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deliciousangelfestival · 2 days ago

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The Imperfect Couple - 19 | End

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: Triggering conversation. Character died.

Words Count: 5,588

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Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

When life seems perfect, it often hides a test—a calm before the storm. For Steve, months after Peggy’s death, everything felt whole, secure. His presidency was steady, bolstered by approval from the public and respect from allies. Policies were sailing through Congress, his popularity was soaring, and his vision for the country was unfolding exactly as planned.

But something gnawed at him, an intuition sharpened by years in the military. A storm was coming—he could feel it.

“Mr. President,” Natasha’s voice cut through his thoughts as she entered the office with a stack of documents in her arms.

“Yes, Natasha?”

She placed a folder on his desk. “Here’s the speech draft for the press conference announcing your engagement to Miss Hazel,” she said, her tone carefully neutral. “If anything… goes south after the announcement.”

Steve took the folder, scanning the first page with a furrowed brow. He plans to introduce Hazel and Nate to the world. The public would need time to adjust to the news, and if the backlash was harsh, he’d be ready with a statement that cast Hazel in a sympathetic light.

“Thank you,” he replied, placing the folder aside.

Just then, the door burst open. An aide stumbled in, looking flushed and frantic. “Mr. President, I’m sorry to interrupt, but you need to see this immediately.” He thrust a tablet onto the desk, his hands shaking slightly as he pressed play.

A news anchor appeared on the screen, her voice grim and insistent. “Breaking news on an international scandal that could shake the nation. Our sources have uncovered what they’re calling ‘Deals in the Dark: Inside the Global Conspiracy Threatening Economic Stability.’”

The words "Steve Rogers" flashed across the screen, and the anchor continued, "Our investigation has linked these troubling deals directly to the highest office in the land.”

Steve’s face blanched. His name—his reputation—was being dragged through the mud in front of the entire country. Rage flared within him as he looked up, his jaw tight. “Get the Vice President in here. Now.”

A tense silence settled over the room as they waited. Moments later, Bucky entered, his expression carefully controlled, his eyes meeting Steve’s with a flash of concern.

“Close the door,” Steve ordered, his voice low and taut.

As the door clicked shut, Bucky stood before him, the weight of the situation hanging between them like a loaded gun. Steve’s hand curled into a fist, his voice barely a whisper but laced with fury. “Did you know about this?”

Bucky looked down, drawing a steadying breath, then met Steve’s piercing gaze. “I knew her was digging into things after her friend died, but… I didn’t know it would go this far.” He clenched his jaw. “I didn’t realize how deep she’d go—or how reckless she’d become.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed, a vein throbbing in his temple. “So you’re telling me you had no idea?”

“No, I didn’t,” Bucky admitted, his voice weighted with regret. “And I’m sorry, Steve. I’ll make this right. If you need a name to take the fall… blame me. I’ll shoulder this.”

Steve looked at him, surprised. Here was his Vice President—his friend—willing to sacrifice himself to protect him. It would be so easy to accept the offer, to let Bucky take the brunt of the fallout. It would keep Steve’s image intact, and Bucky could be quietly replaced.

But the advantage of having Bucky loyal by his side was too great. “No,” Steve replied, shaking his head. “This wasn’t your doing. And I need you here, not buried under this scandal.”

Bucky stepped forward, his gaze steady. “It’s alright, Steve. I haven’t done much lately as Vice President anyway. Let me take this on. We’re a team, aren’t we? Your problems are mine.”

Steve paused, looking at him, his anger tempered by the loyalty in Bucky’s eyes. “You’d take this for me?”

“Without hesitation,” Bucky replied firmly, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

Steve exhaled, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. He extended a hand, and Bucky took it, their grips strong, but their shared look even stronger. Then, in a rare moment of mutual trust, Steve pulled him into a fierce, brotherly embrace.

“Thank you, Bucky,” he murmured, his voice softened with unspoken gratitude.

As they pulled back, Bucky’s expression was resolute. “Whatever’s coming,” he said, his voice low, “we’re facing it together.”

Steve nodded, his mind racing with strategy and resolve. The scandal might be a blow, but with Bucky at his side, he felt fortified, ready to weather the storm—no matter how dark it threatened to become.

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With Bucky's promise still fresh in the air, Steve watched as his vice president worked hard to keep issues from flaring up. Bucky stood tall, his confidence showing as he spoke to reporters and citizens, assuring them that their concerns were being handled. But underneath, Steve could sense the tension in Bucky—his jaw tightened, and worry flickered in his eyes whenever new problems popped up.

Each time one issue seemed to fade, another arose, and it always seemed to lead back to you.

As Steve stood in the Oval Office, the weight of the scandals crashing down around him felt almost suffocating. Illegal domestic surveillance, military manipulation, a nuclear program scandal, and Stark Industries' data misuse—all of it traced back to you. The walls felt like they were closing in as he realized you were the mastermind behind this revelation. Even Bucky was oblivious to the full extent of the details.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady the rising tide of anger and betrayal, and faced you across the room. The tension hung heavy in the air, electric and dangerous. “When will you stop?” he demanded, his voice low and filled with barely restrained fury. “This is not only hurting me but also Bucky.”

You met his gaze, unflinching, your own anger simmering just below the surface. “Come and kill me, you crazy sociopath,” you shot back, your voice dripping with defiance.

Steve took a step closer, his fists clenched at his sides. “If you keep doing this, you’ll ruin the future of Nate’s life,” he warned, his tone now tinged with a desperate edge.

“I knew you have a soft spot for him. And I appreciate it,” he sneered. “But imagine him being branded with the image of being the illegitimate child, with his father as the most evil president in history.”

Steve’s jaw tightened. “Or you could choose this one: he’ll find out who I really am. Instead of shame, he’ll be proud to be the son of the president.”

“You fucking psycho,” you spat, taking a step back, putting space between you and the weight of your shared history. “Using your own son as your shield.”

Steve shook his head, disbelief mingling with a simmering rage. “You hate me because I killed your friend. Sure, I understand that. But if he were still alive, your husband and I probably couldn’t win the election.”

As the two of you locked eyes, the atmosphere crackled with tension—a brutal dance of hurt and anger, intertwined with a strange sense of familiarity. Steve’s breath quickened, the realization dawning on him that the battle wasn’t just external; it was deeply personal, and it threatened to consume them both.

“Everything is about paying back. Everyone in here knows everyone’s secrets.” Steve's voice was cold, his jaw clenched tightly as he glared at you, the tension in the air crackling like electricity. His hands were balled into fists at his sides, as if holding back the urge to lash out.

"I hate people like you—the idealistic type," Steve said, his voice low and simmering with frustration. He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he locked onto yours, the tension in the air palpable. "If you get rid of me, there will only be another just like me."

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After talking to Steve, you returned home, your heart still racing with the weight of the conversation. As you stepped through the door, you saw Bucky waiting for you, his expression unreadable. The moment you locked eyes, tension filled the room.

"You’re just a puppet for Steve," you spat, your voice dripping with disdain. "I’m so ashamed of you."

Bucky's face hardened, his jaw clenched tightly as he stepped closer, his frustration boiling over. "You don’t understand anything! I’m doing what I have to do," he shot back, his tone sharp and defensive.

“Doing what you have to do?” you scoffed, your hands trembling with anger. “You’re covering up Ian’s death! You’re a coward for letting this happen!” Your words hung heavy in the air, each accusation striking a nerve as you paced back and forth, unable to contain your rage.

Bucky’s eyes flashed with a mix of hurt and anger. “You think it’s that simple? It’s not just about me! I have to protect what’s left of this place, even if it means making sacrifices!” He ran a hand through his hair, the frustration evident in the way his fingers curled into his scalp.

You shook your head, refusing to back down. “Sacrifices? You mean sacrificing your integrity? You’ve lost yourself to this game, Bucky! I can’t believe you let Steve manipulate you like this.”

Unbeknownst to both of you, your heated argument was being overheard. Natasha listened intently from the hidden bug that had been planted in the room, her brow furrowed with concern as she glanced at Steve. “Both of them are fighting. Bucky sounds surprised,” she informed him, her tone serious.

Steve leaned back in his chair, a slight smirk forming on his lips. “Good,” he replied, a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. He relished the chaos unfolding, knowing that conflict could lead to clarity, both for Bucky and for you. The storm brewing between you two was exactly what he needed.

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Even though there was turmoil at home, everything had to keep going. Bucky had to accompany Steve to attend the parade. The parade was a vibrant spectacle, a sea of red, white, and blue, with flags fluttering in the crisp air. Cheerful crowds lined the streets, waving banners and chanting the names of their leaders, their excitement palpable.

"Mr. President! Mr. President!" they roared, their voices a chorus of admiration for Steve Rogers, who stood tall and confident, a smile breaking across his face as he waved back. The warmth of the people's adoration radiated around him, but as the crowd's energy surged, the atmosphere felt electric, almost frenetic.

Beside him, Bucky Barnes maintained a more stoic demeanor. Though he wore the badge of Vice President, the cheers seemed to pass over him, fewer and far between. He appreciated the excitement but felt a twinge of disappointment that the cheers weren't for him. He turned to Steve, his brow furrowing slightly, and remarked dryly, "You know, I thought they would be a bit more enthusiastic about me."

Steve had brought Bucky here to entertain him because he knew about the problems between Bucky and you. You're wild and couldn't be tamed.

Steve chuckled, eyes glinting with mischief as he leaned closer, "Put a leash on your wife, or she'll embarrass this country." His laughter rang out, mingling with the cheers of the crowd, but Bucky's gaze drifted past him, scanning the parade route.

"Yeah," Bucky replied, a hint of agreement in his voice, but his eyes were still fixed on the crowd. There was a tension in the air that he couldn’t quite place.

Steve turned to Bucky, his brow slightly furrowed with concern. "How is she?" he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant.

Bucky crossed his arms tightly over his chest, his jaw clenched as he replied, "I told her to be quieter."

“Good,” Steve said, his expression softening a bit. He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before continuing, "I’m planning to have Hazel by my side."

Bucky's eyes widened, disbelief flashing across his face. "What?" he exclaimed, his posture tensing as he processed the implications of Steve’s words.

"I knew you’d know," Steve said, a hint of regret creeping into his tone. He stepped closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. "And I’m sorry. But I promise you, I will give Hazel and Nate the best future."

Bucky fell silent, the weight of Steve’s promise hanging in the air between them. He looked away for a moment, his thoughts racing, before finally nodding, a mix of resignation and reluctant acceptance etched on his face.

Steve smiled, relief washing over him as he saw Bucky's reaction. There was a sense of camaraderie in the moment, a silent understanding forged in the midst of tension. But as Bucky looked at Steve, his eyes betrayed a flicker of uncertainty, hinting at the underlying conflict that still simmered just beneath the surface.

"I'm so glad to have you as my partner," Steve continued, sincerity evident in his tone. "May we work together until we die."

"Until we die," Bucky murmured, his voice almost lost in the surrounding commotion.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the noise, calling out, "Barnes!" A hand waved from the throng, the first time anyone had shouted his name that day. Bucky glanced at the person but didn’t respond with a wave like Steve did. Instead, he gave a subtle nod, a flicker of acknowledgment that felt more calculated than celebratory.

In that instant, chaos erupted. "KYAAA!!!"

A sharp crack rang out, slicing through the jubilant atmosphere. Bucky staggered as if struck by a physical blow, his eyes widening in shock.

The cheers turned into gasps of disbelief, and screams erupted as the crowd reacted in panic, some dropping to the ground, others frantically searching for cover. The Secret Service sprang into action, "Protect the Vice-President!", a wall of suits forming around Bucky as people pushed back in terror, the once-cheerful parade transformed into a scene of horror.

"Bucky!" Steve shouted, rushing forward, his heart pounding as he reached his partner's side. The world around him blurred, and all he could focus on was Bucky, crumpling to the ground.

Everyone was shouting, the air thick with fear and confusion, but all Steve heard was the ragged sound of his own breathing and the desperate cry of his friend. "Bucky!" he repeated, urgency lacing his tone.

Bucky's breath came in ragged gasps, his body sprawled on the pavement. The color drained from his face as he struggled to lift his hand, feeling the warmth of blood seeping through his fingers. With a surge of effort, he grasped Steve's arm, pulling him closer, anchoring himself to his partner even as the life slipped away from him. "All hail the President," he managed, his voice weak but resolute.

Steve's expression shifted from shock to horror, his body taut with the weight of impending dread. Bucky's grip tightened, holding him in place as if preventing him from moving, creating a storm of emotions that threatened to overwhelm them both. "Bucky, stay with me," he urged, desperation lacing his tone.

Bucky locked eyes with Steve, seeing the fear reflected there. A strange calm washed over him as he whispered, "As Nate's father, this is my gift for you."

Then, without warning, a searing pain tore through Steve’s chest, a sharp shot of agony that rooted him to the spot. The world blurred around him as he struggled to comprehend what was happening, realizing in that instant that he was the true target.

Steve felt the impact before he could process the meaning behind Bucky’s words. The world around them seemed to slow as the realization of betrayal hit him. He caught a glimpse of Bucky's fading form, and in that moment, a twisted smirk crept across his lips. "Well played," he murmured, before the darkness consumed him, and he dropped to the ground.

Bucky’s grip slackened, the warmth of his hand slipping away. Bucky’s body went limp, and as everything turned dark around him, Steve felt his own strength faltering.

That day, which was meant to be a celebration, turned into a day of mourning. Two main leaders of the country were injured, and no one knew who was behind the attack. With the most important figures in the nation harmed, it felt like an embarrassment for a country that prided itself on its strength.

Both parties in the government reached a silent agreement to keep the situation under wraps and portray Steve as a hero.

The news headlines that would follow would echo through history: “The President Dies Protecting the Vice President.” It would be a legacy of sacrifice, a testament to their bond. Steve Rogers would forever be remembered as the only president who lost his life protecting another, a tragedy that would resonate for generations.

Everyone would remember him as a good symbol, sacrificing himself for someone, without recalling the darker aspects of his actions. This was the last gift Bucky gave to him.

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2 days later

Bucky's eyes fluttered open, the sterile brightness of the hospital room piercing through the haze of his coma. As his surroundings came into focus, the first thing he saw was you, your face streaked with tears, a mixture of relief and anger etched across your features.

You rushed to his side, gripping his arm tightly, your voice trembling with emotion. "You idiot! What kind of plan was that? Risking your life?"

Bucky's brow furrowed slightly as he tried to process your words, his voice hoarse but steady. "Didn't I tell you? I will accept it if you hurt me."

Both of you pretended to fight to keep Steve from suspecting anything. He knew how much Bucky loved you, and with the two of you constantly bickering, he wouldn't notice that someone else had hired an assassin.

It was Caroline. She was the one who hired the sniper to take Steve's life. Don’t mess with a mother—or a woman like her.

Bucky getting shot first was all part of the plan. Caroline’s intention was to take out Steve, but Bucky warned her that he would also become a suspect if that happened.

Instead, he proposed that he get hurt first, diverting everyone’s attention to him, allowing Steve to be vulnerable next.

It was a risky plan—an idiotic one, really. But Bucky insisted, determined to see it through despite the danger that loomed over them all.

A deep sigh escaped your lips, a blend of frustration and relief washing over you. You leaned against his chest, resting your head there, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. In that moment, everything else faded away—the anger, the fear—and all that mattered was that he was alive.

Risking his life was necessary to make his plan work. He didn't want the past six years of his efforts to go to waste.

The past six years had been exhausting for Bucky Barnes. He had immersed himself in the treacherous waters of politics, drawn in by the intoxicating taste of power that left a lingering sweetness on his tongue.

He quickly realized that understanding the law was not merely a tool; it was a weapon. Knowledge of loopholes became his advantage, a means to navigate the convoluted game of governance. But knowing the rules wasn’t enough; he needed to be ruthless. That was where Steve Rogers came into the picture—his mentor, a family friend for years, whose facade of integrity masked a far more sinister reality.

In Bucky’s eyes, Steve had always been perfect, a paragon of virtue. But as time wore on, the veneer began to crack, revealing the monstrous truth lurking beneath.

Steve was a predator cloaked in a hero’s guise. His charming smile belied a voracious greed that left a bloody trail in its wake. It was a shock to discover that Steve had been having an affair with Hazel, and now he was the father of Nate, the child whose very existence felt like a dagger to Bucky’s heart.

This betrayal was too much to bear. Bucky’s hatred for the man he once idolized simmered just below the surface, boiling over as he considered how to dismantle the carefully constructed empire Steve had built. Bucky knew the rules; he understood the political landscape better than most. But how could he bring down someone so deeply entrenched in the system?

Despite all his advantages, Steve believed he was the master of this game. No, he wasn’t. Bucky’s confidence swelled as he acknowledged that Steve’s skills—his war experience, his tactical mind—would ultimately falter against the true currency of politics. In this brutal arena, the real gold was connections and money. Behind every politician lurked unseen puppet masters pulling the strings, and Steve was no exception.

Bucky knew that while Steve had forged connections, he lacked the pedigree that defined the upper echelons of power. Steve had been a nobody until Peggy Carter had invited him into their circle, and that was when they made a monumental mistake—choosing Steve. He might have had his allies, but he would never be blue blood like Bucky and Peggy.

Then there was Peggy. The last straw. Bucky’s heart twisted as he recalled the circumstances of her death. He was all too aware that it had been Steve's machinations that had ultimately led to her demise. Bucky had witnessed the toll it took on her, the way she had struggled under the weight of her decisions, her life unraveling in the shadow of Steve's ambition. Bucky’s hands tightened into fists at the memory.

Caroline had been the voice of caution, her words echoing in his mind: “This is why you never bite the hand that feeds you.”

She may not have been a good mother, but she had been a loyal friend to Peggy, always protecting her interests, ensuring that her secrets remained buried. Bucky could see how easily Caroline could hire an assassin, how she moved through the shadows like a whisper, orchestrating the chaos without ever getting her hands dirty.

He never thought you and Caroline would join forces to rid the world of Steve. With each passing day, Bucky felt the walls closing in, the weight of the decisions he had to make pressing down on him like a vice. Steve would fall; it was only a matter of time.

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Bucky stood in the Oval Office, a resolute figure beside the iconic Resolute Desk, a Bible open in front of him. The room was thick with anticipation, everyone watching him intently as he prepared to deliver his vow. His posture was firm, shoulders squared, as he looked around at the faces of his colleagues and allies, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He glanced at the words on the page, drawing strength from their meaning as he readied himself to speak.

With a steady voice, he began, "I stand before you today, not just as your president, but as a servant of the people. I vow to uphold the Constitution, to protect the rights of every citizen, and to work tirelessly for the betterment of our nation. Together, we will fight against corruption and ensure that government truly serves the people. I promise to lead with integrity, to listen to your voices, and to bring about the change we so desperately need."

You stood behind him, pride swelling in your chest as you witnessed Bucky fulfill his promise to become president.

Behind you sat Caroline and Julius, the latter in his wheelchair, their expressions a mix of hope and admiration. Bucky’s oldest brother, Shawn, had called to congratulate him, his voice brimming with encouragement. Your brother Tim stood nearby, a smile on his face, reflecting the joy that filled the room. At the back, Hazel lingered, her posture tense and withdrawn, reluctant to stand close to her family.

As the applause began and everyone congratulated Bucky and you, Natasha approached Hazel, who stood near the corner as if she wanted to hide.

Perhaps she was too embarrassed to be there. Before, she had come to the White House as Steve's mistress, and everyone knew who she was but kept their mouths shut. This time, she was here only as Bucky's sister. “I have something for you,” Natasha said, extending an envelope toward her.

Hazel hesitated, her brows furrowing in confusion. “For me?” she asked, glancing from the letter to Natasha, unsure of what to expect.

Natasha nodded, a subtle smile breaking through her serious exterior. “Yes, it’s from Steve.” With that, she stepped back to take her position.

Hazel’s fingers trembled slightly as she took the letter, the weight of it heavy in her hand. As she opened it, memories flooded back, and she felt a rush of emotions. It was a final message from Steve, words that resonated with her deeply.

The atmosphere in the room shifted as Hazel read the heartfelt letter, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Hazel,

If you’re reading this, it means I’m probably no longer living. And that's okay; I've come to accept it. The world I’ve inhabited has been fraught with danger, and I’ve made choices that have led me here.

Hazel, from the moment I met you, it felt like looking into a mirror—a reflection of my own heart and soul. You brought warmth and light into my life, even when I was lost in darkness. Your strength has always amazed me, and I want you to carry that with you as you move forward.

Live the life you’ve always wanted. I’ve made arrangements for you and Nate, ensuring you both have the financial support you need to thrive.

Please, for our Nate, support him and listen to him. He will need you more than ever now, and I have every confidence in your ability to guide him.

If there is a next life, I hope we never meet again. You deserve someone better than me. Now that I’m gone, please try to forget me and the mistakes I made. I genuinely wish you and Nate nothing but the best.

Steve Rogers

P.S. Don’t worry about the twins. They’ve been independent since they were young and have the Carters to guide them. They’ll be okay."

Tears fell onto the letter as Hazel finished reading it.

“Mom?” Nate's small voice broke through her moment of grief.

Hazel looked down at her son, the last legacy of Steve, and quickly wiped her tears away. “Do you want to visit Uncle Steve?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

Nate nodded enthusiastically, his bright eyes shining with admiration. “Yes! He’s a hero for saving Uncle Bucky!”

Hazel flinched at the mention of Bucky, but she forced a smile, wanting to be strong for her son. She knelt down to his level and took his small hands in hers, feeling the warmth of his tiny fingers. With her other hand, she clutched the letter written by Steve, a reminder of his love and hopes for her.

Together, they held hands as they walked, Hazel’s heart swelling with determination. Just as Steve had wished, she would live life to the fullest and be a great mother to Nate.

After Hazel and Nate left, Natasha approached Bucky with a serious expression. “Both of them have left,” she informed him.

Bucky turned to her, his demeanor cool and composed, devoid of any trace of warmth. “She read the letter?” he asked, his voice steady and flat.

“Yes,” Natasha replied, nodding her head.

“Did she believe it?” Bucky pressed, his gaze sharp and focused.

“I hired a professional to copy Steve's signature, and I added a bit of his perfume to the paper,” Natasha explained, her tone measured and confident.

“Good.” Bucky’s expression remained impassive, his eyes betraying no emotion. He had written the letter himself, crafting it to sound like it came from Steve. His intention was clear: he wanted Hazel to move on from Steve, to find a new path without the shadows of the past weighing her down. This was necessary for her future, and he understood the sacrifices it took to ensure that.

“Good job.” Bucky looked at Natasha again, and she nodded in acknowledgment.

It was a curious alliance—how could a loyal supporter of Steve choose to work with Bucky? The answer lay in humanity. Natasha had pledged her loyalty to Steve because he saved her from the chaos of war when she had no one to turn to. In her eyes, he was a hero, and she had turned a blind eye and deaf ear to his misdeeds, including the affair with Hazel.

But everything changed when she witnessed the heartlessness Steve displayed toward Peggy. The righteous man she once admired had morphed into a monster, and her faith in him shattered. With Steve’s death, Natasha reevaluated her principles and decided to align herself with Bucky.

Bucky brought her on board because he recognized her skills and capabilities. He needed people like Natasha—sharp, resourceful, and fiercely dedicated. But he also understood the value of loyalty and did not intend to take it for granted. Their partnership was strategic, grounded in the shared goal of reshaping the political landscape, and Bucky was determined to build a team that could challenge the corruption that had long plagued their world.

“Have you got everything you need?” your voice pulled him away from his thoughts.

“Yes,” he replied, a smile breaking through his usual stoicism as he took your hand in his.

As you both walked through the grand halls of the White House, the sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting a warm glow on the polished floors. Bucky’s grip on your hand was firm, steady, a reassuring anchor in the midst of the political storm surrounding him.

Bucky had his share of greed, but he loathed those who didn’t know their limits. Among those were his so-called friends, Edgar and Brock. Together with Steve, they formed a trio of self-serving opportunists, always proclaiming their actions were “for the people” while their true motivations were purely selfish—“for me, me, and me.”

What set Bucky apart from Steve, Edgar, and Brock was his ambition to dismantle the very system they thrived in. He wanted to rid politics of corrupt individuals like them, who masqueraded their greed as altruism. Bucky had seen too much of the damage they had inflicted on the community, and he was determined to be the catalyst for change. He refused to become like them.

To clean up the government, he knew he had to start with this corrupt trio. It was a slow and grueling process, requiring patience and strategy, but Bucky was committed to the fight. He would work behind the scenes, gathering evidence, building alliances, and slowly dismantling their influence. It was exhausting, but he was relentless.

His ultimate goal extended beyond simply removing them from power. He envisioned a government rebuilt on integrity, one that truly served the interests of the people rather than the egos of a few. The road ahead was fraught with challenges, but he was willing to face them head-on. Every step he took toward exposing the trio brought him closer to realizing his vision of a more just and equitable political landscape.

As Bucky navigated the murky waters of politics, he felt the weight of his mission pressing down on him. He was no longer just a pawn in the game; he was a player with a purpose. This time, he wouldn’t be silenced. He was determined to take the fight to them, fueled by a deep resolve to expose their hypocrisy and restore honor to a system long tainted by greed.

But alongside you, he realized something important: for an imperfect couple, you both made a perfect team. As you walked together, side by side, it felt like you were crossing a finish line, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. Each step was a testament to your shared commitment—a bond forged in trust and understanding, built on the ashes of past mistakes.

You glanced up at him, and in that moment, you could see the determination in his eyes, the fire that ignited whenever he believed in something. Together, you were more than just individuals; you were partners united in a common cause, ready to fight for a better future. In the complicated world of power and betrayal, your partnership was a beacon of hope, lighting the way toward justice and change.

-The End-

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who followed this series until the end. This story has its flaws, but I truly appreciate your support and dedication. It was incredibly difficult for me to wrap up this journey and say goodbye to Bucky and his fierce ex-wife. Writing a tale that intertwines politics with romance has been both a challenging and rewarding experience. I've learned so much about character development and the complexities of relationships, and I'm grateful to have shared this journey with all of you. Your feedback and encouragement have meant the world to me.

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amiableness · 13 hours ago

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Peonies ; part four

Pairing: Theo Nott x Fem!Reader

Summary: Mattheo is in an awful mood after the party while Theo takes reader to the peony field.

Word Count: 4772

Warnings: Unrequited love & Mattheo and Theo get into it. Reader overthinks for a little bit. Mentions of drugging? One mention of Y/n. Let me know if there’s more!

A/N 💌 I can't tell you how nervous I am to post this, I feel like it's not my best work. But regardless, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. As usual thank you to @moonpascal for reading, helping me with ideas, and just providing support and comfort. I love you endlessly!

SERIES MASTERLIST <3

“Did something happen last night between you and Mattheo?” Pansy asks, throwing the door open with an expectant look. Despite your low mood, you can’t help but crack a tiny smile at the sight of her—hair a tousled mess, mascara smudged beneath her eyes. She’s the perfect picture of someone who had way too much fun last night.

“Is there any particular reason you’re asking?” You reply cautiously, eyes following her as she saunters over and slips into bed beside you. She gives the blanket a hard tug, leaving you to huff in irritation when she claims more than her fair share.

“Because I heard him and Veronica fighting. I didn’t catch much, but I did hear your name.” Pansy looks you over, taking in your rumpled clothes and tired eyes. You’re not in much better shape than she is, and she can't tell if it’s the lingering effects of last night’s drinks or the aftermath of whatever happened with Mattheo.

“Merlin,” you sigh, rolling your eyes and sinking deeper into the warmth of your bed. You haven’t moved since Theo left about twenty minutes ago, and you’re not sure if you’ll find the energy to do so anytime soon. Honestly, the idea of staying curled up here is more tempting than you'd like to admit. “We got into it again last night.”

“Again?” Pansy raises an eyebrow, shifting to face you.

“Apparently, he does care.” Your voice is dripping with sarcasm and frustration.

“He told you that?” Pansy shifts so quickly it’s as if you’ve shocked her. Both of you know very well that Mattheo isn’t the type to open up about what he’s feeling. Years of watching him around his parents taught you why—with how many times you had seen them scold him for even a flicker of emotion, it was no wonder he kept everything locked up.

You sigh, staring up at the ceiling, “He said he wanted me to admit I have feelings for him too.” Pansy's eyes widen, her mouth falling open as she stares at you in disbelief.

“Feeling for him too?” She echoes, and you finally turn to meet her eyes with a weak nod. Your best friend sits there for a moment, studying your face carefully before choosing her next words. She knows she has a nasty habit of saying the first thing on her mind without considering that it might not be what you need to hear.

Pansy sits up, grabbing the pillow she was using and hugging it to her chest as she stares at you impatiently. She’s waiting to hear if you’ve finally told the boy you’ve been head over heels for, for years, that you like him too. “Well? Did you?”

“I couldn’t do it.”

“Please, tell me it’s for the reason I’m thinking.” She all but begs, her eyes wide with hope.

You let out a weary sigh. “I don’t know when I stopped having feelings for him, Pans. I didn’t even realize I’d lost them until he asked me to tell him I felt the same, and there was just...”

“Just..?” Pansy prompts gently.

A pause hangs between you as you search for the right words.

You hardly slept last night; your mind raced with thoughts of the past few months, trying to pinpoint when and how your feelings faded so quietly. You had liked Mattheo for so long, even convinced yourself that maybe you even loved him. But how could you truly love someone who was so closed off? Sure, he turned to you when he was struggling, but that didn’t mean he ever shared what he was feeling. He liked your presence and relied on you to be there whenever he needed support, but he never trusted you enough to truly let you in.

Not in the way you wanted, at least.

If he wasn’t comfortable with his own emotions, there was no way he would be able to handle yours. Maybe that was the heart of it—the realization that he would never fully open up to you, and that had kept you from falling in love with him. And maybe that was the best thing that could have happened, no matter how painful or uncomfortable it was to come to terms with at the beginning.

Then there was Theo. Who had promised to help you get over Mattheo, and from that moment on, he was there for you without hesitation. He held your hand whenever you needed it, and honestly, you had begun to lean on him a bit too much—being close to him had become your favorite feeling. He never made it feel like supporting you was a chore; instead, he made it seem like something he had always longed to do.

In truth, everything had changed for you. Spending time with Theo was no longer just a way to distract yourself from Mattheo; it became where you wanted to be. Being around him made you feel safe and accepted in a way you hadn’t realized you craved.

And that was absolutely terrifying.

You sit up abruptly, fully facing Pansy, “When you said that you thought Theo would give me everything if I let him, did you mean that?”

“Babes,” she begins, sending you a soft smile. “I’ve always thought you would be good for Mattheo. You bring something out in him; he’s happiest when he’s around you. Veronica seemed to make him happy at first—” she adds with a snort—“but nowhere near the level you do.”

“But with Theo…” Pansy trails off. “I’ve never seen you so happy—and not the kind of happy you were with Mattheo. It’s not the relief of him not having a one-night stand or flirting with you a bit bolder at a party. It’s genuine happiness; you’re truly yourself. Theo brings out a different side of you, and you do that for him, too.”

Glancing over at the vase of red peonies, battling the tightness in your throat and the sting in your eyes. You decide you’d rather not spend the day in bed.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

Since last night, Theo has been struggling to push away the thought that maybe the idea of you having feelings for him isn’t so far-fetched. Especially after you’d implied that the two of you were together to the girl who’d tried to flirt with him. The way you’d intertwined your fingers with his, staking a silent claim that he was off-limits, had left him reeling. There was no way you’d be so possessive if you didn’t feel the same. At least, that’s what he’d been telling himself all morning.

And then there was the way you hadn’t been able to answer Mattheo about your feelings. Theo’s whole heart had been in his throat as he waited for you to tell Mattheo that you did have feelings for him, that you’d had them for years. But you hadn’t answered.

In a way, though, you had, hadn’t you? You’d pushed past Mattheo without a word and gone straight to him.

“Are you coming with us to Hogsmeade or not?” Enzo nudges Theo, pulling him out of his thoughts. The boys had all planned to go to Hogsmeade together this weekend, a plan set firmly in stone since last weekend. But when Theo saw you this morning, he couldn’t hold back. On impulse, he asked if you wanted to spend some time together, suggesting—almost shyly—that he could finally show you where he’d been getting the peonies.

“No, I’ve got plans.” Theo shrugs, and Draco sends him an irritated look from the opposite couch.

“We made plans.” Draco huffs, clearly agitated with the change. He always hated it when the boys ditched at the last second.

“Something came up.” Theo sighs, hoping that he’ll let it go quickly. He’s well aware that Mattheo should be coming down the stairs at any second. Enzo had told them that he was taking forever to get ready, probably hungover from last night.

“You mean your girl.” Blaise corrects, and Draco looks disgusted. His head swings back to look at Theo.

“You’re ditching us for her? Mate, that’s pathetic.” Draco scoffs. “She isn’t even your girlfriend.”

“She’s pretty damn close.” Blaise points out, and Theo tries his best to ignore the feeling that jolts through him when he thinks of you as his girlfriend.

He doesn’t have a chance to say anything—not that he would have—before Mattheo walks over to join the group. He claps a hand on Draco’s shoulder, only for Draco to shrug him off irritably. “C’mon,” Mattheo says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

As the others rise, stretching and adjusting their robes, Theo remains seated, gaze fixed on the fireplace in front of him. Mattheo pauses, giving him a puzzled look, one brow lifting in question. “You’re not coming?”

“No.” Theo answers curtly, clearly uninterested in extending the conversation. The truth is, he hasn't spoken to Mattheo in quite a while, and when they do, it’s nothing but tension—a quiet frustration simmering beneath each exchange.

Mattheo’s curiosity sharpens. “Why not?”

“He’s got plans with his girl,” Draco interjects with a roll of his eyes, impatience seeping into his voice. “Now, can we go? We’ve waited long enough for you as it is.”

“Wait. Hold on,” Mattheo turns to face him fully, and Draco huffs when he realizes they’re not going to be leaving any time soon. “Your girl?”

“You know what he means.” Blaise interjects calmly, his eyes shifting to Mattheo as he watches tension coil through his stance.

Mattheo gives a casual shrug, though his jaw tightens. “No, Blaise, I really don’t.”

Theo huffs, rolling his eyes as he stands, making to push past. “Why the hell do you even care?”

Mattheo’s hand snaps out, stopping him mid-step. “You know why I care.”

Theo’s gaze darkens, voice low. “Oh, you mean because of your feelings for her?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Does your girlfriend know that you told Y/n you’ve always liked her?”

Theo’s eyes flicker over Mattheo’s shoulder, catching the shared looks between Blaise, Enzo, and Draco. There’s no shock in their expressions—only a knowing look as if they’d been bracing for this moment all along. It’s unsettling, the way they seem almost resigned, like they’ve seen the tension building between him and Mattheo from a mile away.

Mattheo scoffs, an edge of irritation slipping into his voice. “Did she go and tell you everything I said?”

Theo raises a brow, “No, I overheard you. But even if she did, what does it matter to you?”

Matteo narrows his eyes, “Because I care about her.”

“Bullshit. If you cared about her, you wouldn’t have put her in that position last night.”

“I care about her more than you think.” Mattheo bites out, and the boys watch carefully as Mattheo takes another step forward.

“Right,” Theo scoffs, “You care so much you went and found yourself another girl.”

Theo sees it before Mattheo even speaks—the subtle shift in his expression, the tightening of his jaw, the flicker of defensiveness flashing in his eyes. “I wasn’t ready to—”

“So you weren’t ready for her? But you were for Veronica? I don’t get it. You can’t just expect her to always be there when you finally figure out what you want.”

Mattheo laughs in disbelief, “I wasn’t waiting, I—”

“Then what the hell were you doing?” Theo’s voice sharpens. “You had years to tell her how you felt, and you didn’t say anything. Then you get a girlfriend, she starts spending time with me, and all of a sudden, you care? Leave her alone and quit messing with her.”

“I’m not fucking messing with her—”

“You are. You’ve been doing it for years.” Theo’s eyes flash with frustration, and suddenly he feels the urge to make it clear that he wants you—that he always has, and Mattheo isn’t the only one. “She deserves better than someone who can’t make up their mind. She deserves to be someone’s first choice.”

Mattheo’s expression hardens and his tone drops. “And that’s you?”

Theo doesn’t have the chance to answer, because Veronica’s shriek causes both their heads to snap in her direction, “Matty!”

Theo watches as Mattheo steps back, anger giving way to frustration, a quiet curse slipping from his lips at the sight of his girlfriend. Veronica strides forward, pushing right past Blaise and Enzo without a second glance. Blaise shoots her an agitated look, irritation flashing in his eyes as she barrels through.

“I thought you said you guys were going to Hogsmeade.” Veronica smiles, reaching out to take Mattheo’s hand, but he subtly pulls away, dodging her touch with a flicker of impatience in his eyes.

“We are.” He grumbles under his breath, but Veronica keeps smiling sweetly, unfazed, as if her boyfriend hadn’t just blatantly brushed off her attempt to hold his hand. Mattheo turns to leave, muttering something to the boys, likely a brief comment about their plans.

Theo watches as an agitated Mattheo strides out of the common room, with the boys trailing behind him. But the boys glance back at Theo, their expressions a mix of caution and confusion. Theo turns to leave as well, but Veronica’s voice stops him, soft and pointed, just loud enough for him to hear.

“You should tell your girlfriend that last night was a mistake,” she murmurs, a sympathetic smile tugging at her lips. “Mattheo thought she was me; you know how he gets after a few too many drinks.”

Theo thinks about correcting her, letting her know that he doesn’t really know what she means at all. From what he saw last night, Mattheo was tipsy—not that drunk—and Theo has had enough years of experience to tell the difference. But instead, he shrugs it off, deciding he’d rather find you than spend any more time in the common room.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

“Hogsmeade is that way.” You say, a bit confused, gesturing in the opposite direction as you walk beside Theo.

“I know.” He replies simply, his gaze flickering back to the trail that you’ve never gone down before. Honestly, you had no idea it even existed. It’s evident that this path isn’t used often, as moss and grass have claimed most of the walkway. Vibrant wildflowers dot the sides, their colors brightening the greenery around them.

He’s been quiet for most of the walk, which feels strange; you’re not used to this side of him. The more time you’ve spent with Theo, the more he’s opened up—sharing memories of his late mum, the weight of his father’s expectations, and his hopes for the future. These walks, where you slowly unravel each other’s stories, have become your thing, something that only the two of you share.

You frown slightly, glancing at him as you try to piece it together. “But I thought you said you got the flowers from a shop.”

“I never said that.” Theo’s lips curve into that soft, gentle smile that never fails to send your stomach into a flutter. “I said I’d take you with me the next time I went to get some. I never said it was in Hogsmeade.”

It takes you a second, too enamored with the view in front of you for it all to click. The walk isn’t long, but as you continue down the path, you spot a patch of red ahead. It stands out against the greenery, a cluster of flowers blooming a pretty, vibrant hue. You can’t quite tell what kind they are, but when you glance at Theo, you notice the way his eyes flicker nervously, and it suddenly feels like you’re walking toward something important.

But then it hits you all at once: “They’re peonies.”

On instinct, you grab Theo’s hand, giving it a playful tug to urge him along toward the blooms. He lets out a soft laugh at your enthusiasm, and a warmth fills you as his earlier mood seems to lift, the tension in his shoulders fading.

When you reach the edge of the flower field, you pause, still holding Theo’s hand as your gaze lingers over the vibrant blooms stretching out before you. Theo glances at you, heart beating a little faster as he wonders what you’re thinking, but he brushes aside his nerves and releases your hand, shrugging off his jacket to lay it carefully on the ground. You murmur to him, urging him not to squish any of the flowers, and Theo smiles, his expression softening as he gently reassures you that he won’t.

There isn’t much room on his jacket, so you find yourself pressed against Theo’s side—though you don’t mind in the slightest. He’s leaned back on his hands, while you sit cross-legged beside him.

The quiet is soothing, broken only by the soft chatter of birds and the occasional hum of an insect drifting from flower to flower. The warmth of the sun on your skin feels heavenly, its heat a welcome contrast to the long, cold months that have passed.

“Is this why you left? The first night you stayed with me?” You ask, glancing to the right to watch his reaction.

From where you’re seated, you can see how the sunlight catches every small detail of his face, highlighting any imperfections. There’s the faint mole on his cheekbone, his dark lashes that you’re secretly jealous of, and the thin scar along his chin from when he fell off his broom as a kid. Another mark splits through his brow—a scar whose origin he could never quite remember, but has always just been there. It tugs at you, knowing you can recall the origins of his faded scars. It might seem trivial, but it means he’s let you in, sharing parts of himself that not everyone gets to see.

Theo nods, “I had to go early in the morning to give them to Pansy. With practice later, it was the only chance I could.”

A smile creeps onto your face as you imagine Theo, slightly awkward but determined, handing over the bundle of flowers and the little card to Pansy, who no doubt teased him relentlessly. You’d had wondered how she noticed that Theo was different with you, especially when most of your time together was just the two of you. But now, hearing this, you understand perfectly how she recognized a side of him that only seems to surface around you.

“I didn’t want to leave, y’know.” Theo continues, finally glancing over at you, and the effect is instant—those watercolor eyes meet yours, sending a flutter through your stomach as you instinctively lean closer, feeling yourself melt into his side.

“The flowers made up for it,” you tease, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Aside from you, they were the only thing that made me feel better.”

“Yeah?” Theo glances down at you, tucked into his side, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. Hearing you say the flowers meant something to you eases any nerves he had—because they were never just a way to cheer you up. They were his quiet, unspoken way of telling you that he was there, that he cared. And that, despite your feelings for Mattheo, he was an option too.

“Yeah.” You confirm.

For the rest of the afternoon, you and Theo sat together, talking about whatever came to mind as you picked flowers. You gathered a few, but mostly you watched as Theo picked the ones he liked the most, adding to the small bundle that sat between you both. Watching him carefully select the prettiest flowers, knowing he was going to give them to you, made something shift inside you. If you hadn’t fully realized your feelings before, you were certain of them now.

You lost track of time with Theo, but eventually, he had to leave for practice. He handed you the freshly picked flowers and walked you back to the castle, stalling as if reluctant to say goodbye. In the end, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and murmured a quiet ‘thank you.’ You didn’t want to say goodbye either, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be the reason Theo might get into trouble.

It wasn’t until you got back to your dorm, leaning against the door with a giddy squeal, the flowers pressed to your chest, their scent lingering in the air, that the realization hit you. You should’ve kissed him. The thought made your stomach dip with excitement, and for a fleeting moment, you entertained the idea of running after him, catching him just before practice, and kissing him. Absentmindedly, your hand rises to trace your lips, lost in your racing thoughts.

You’re so caught up in the moment that you don’t notice Pansy at her desk, watching you with an amused look.

“You look like you had a good time.” Pansy smirks as you startle and send her a look before pushing away from the door.

“Pansy, I’m fucked.” You whine and she lets out a loud laugh.

“You were from the second he stayed the night with you.” You pause for a moment, letting the realization settle in, and as it does, you know she’s right. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so safe with someone—not in the way you did that night. Sure, you felt safe with Mattheo, but it wasn’t the same. It didn’t compare to the way you felt when you were with Theo.

“Did you know he’s been picking me flowers?” You ask instead, setting the new bundle onto your desk before turning to face Pansy.

“Oh, I knew.” Pansy hums, a knowing smile tugging at her lips.

“How did I not notice?” You wonder aloud.

“You were a little distracted.” Pansy shrugs, and you nod in agreement.

After Pansy tells you she’s meeting Blaise after practice, you briefly wonder if you should go with her. You sit on your bed, lost in thought, weighing the decision, but before you can make up your mind, Pansy is already gone.

As much as you want to see Theo, you hesitate, not wanting to assume that today meant as much to him as it did for you. It’s clear from the fact he’s been picking you flowers that he has feelings for you, but you don’t want to get ahead of yourself or risk ruining something before it has a chance to begin. So, you stay in your dorm, trying to focus on an assignment you’ve been putting off for far too long, though your mind keeps drifting back to him.

So when you hear the knock, your heart skips a beat, and before you can think, you're off your bed and rushing to the door. You know exactly who is on the other side and your stomach flutters in anticipation. You pause just before opening it, taking a deep breath to calm the flutter of nerves in your stomach, willing yourself to appear composed.

You pull the door open, forcing a casual smile as you try to sound unaffected. “Hi,” you say, though your voice betrays the excitement simmering just beneath the surface.

Theo stands in front of you, one hand holding onto the doorframe. His hair is a tousled mess, and his cheeks are flushed—whether from practice or the rush of seemingly running here, you can’t quite tell.

And when he looks up at you, he’s out of breath and looks downright impatient, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” You pause, thrown off and completely caught off guard. That was not what you expected him to say, and your mind spirals into the worst possible conclusions. Was he regretting what happened earlier? Apologizing for showing you the flowers, or for picking some for you? Giving you flowers at all? Maybe his feelings for you weren’t strong enough, or perhaps he only thought he had them? The thought that it could be too soon after your feelings for Mattheo crossed your mind, even though you’d started moving on from him months ago, gnaws at you.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, releasing the doorframe and stepping forward, one step, then another. He pauses, giving you a moment to pull away if you need to, but you stay rooted to the spot, unable to move. Theo stands so close now that you have to tilt your head back slightly to meet his gaze. He reaches up, and your breath catches when his thumb gently brushes against your cheek, his hand settling just below your ear. His voice is quiet, but the weight of his words makes your heart stutter. “I should’ve kissed you, dolcezza.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles on your skin as he steps even closer, his breath warm against your cheek. His words tumble out in a rush, desperate and raw. “All through practice, all I could think about was you. The moment I walked away, I just wanted to turn around and kiss you.” His voice drops to a whisper, low and thick with a longing that sends shivers down your spine.

You murmur his name softly, but he’s barely listening, his gaze intense as he leans in slightly, his lips just inches from yours. “Fuck, you've been on my mind for months—years, if I'm being honest. I feel like I’m losing my mind, wondering if you feel even a fraction of what I do.” His hand still lingers at your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin, the warmth of his touch sending a tremor through you as if he’s waiting for something—waiting for you to say what he’s too afraid to ask.

It’s you who closes the distance, your lips meeting his in a sudden, fervent kiss that catches him off guard, pulling a surprised moan from deep in his throat. His body reacts instantly, his free hand snaking around your waist, pulling you closer, pressing you against him. The sound he makes causes a rush of warmth to flood your veins. He’s hardly touched, and you’re already too warm, and your knees threaten to buckle beneath you. You let him guide you backward, the pressure of his hand firm against your back until your steps falter just inside your dorm. Every inch of him feels like fire against your skin, and your previous worries fade into nothing.

Once you’re inside, he kicks the door closed with a thud but the sound barely registers. Without any hesitation, he presses you back against the door, his body close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him. But you want him closer. So much closer. One hand rests flat against the door beside your head, while the other cups your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. Then, it’s him who leans in, his lips meeting yours in a slow, deliberate kiss that deepens with an aching intensity. There’s no rush now—just an overwhelming wave of longing, a perfect culmination of the emotions you’ve both held back. Your head spins, your heart races, and you’re certain that if you could take your temperature in this moment, it would be burning hot.

But then, slowly, he pulls back just enough to break the kiss, his breath heavy and uneven. His forehead rests against yours for a moment, both of you struggling to catch your breath. You feel the urge to close the distance between you again, to press your lips to his, because there’s something about the way Theo kisses that leaves you breathless, already craving more. But then again, maybe it’s just him—the way his touch makes a thrill course through you.

“I wanted you to kiss me before you left—”

The door jolts against your back, halting you mid-sentence as Pansy’s voice cuts through the moment. “What the hell? Open the door.” You hold your breath, hoping that if you stay silent, she might forget the whole thing and simply go away.

But that’s wishful thinking: “Babes. Please open the door."

“I thought you were hanging out with Blaise.” You call back, stealing a glance at Theo, whose expression mirrors your own surprise. Before leaving practice, he’d told Blaise to keep Pansy distracted—he wanted time with you because he had planned on telling you exactly how he felt about you.

“It’s about Mattheo.” Your brows raise is surprise at the intensity in Pansy’s voice and you fling open the door without another thought.

“What’s wrong?” Theo stands behind you, watching the way your face turns nervous.

“Veronica’s been giving him a love potion,” she says softly, her eyes studying your face as it twists in disbelief. “He’s in the infirmary... and he’s asking for you.”

please please please consider reblogging or leaving a comment! it keeps me motivated to write, and reblogs help to spread my work 🤍

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stxrvel · 2 days ago

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disclosure (6)

series summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life? pairing. platonic ot7 x f!reader for now content. first of all, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! curse words, angst, reader becomes sus, fighting (in the wrong way), angry and mean jin? self-doubt. a/n. hi guysssssss!!! sorry it's taking me this long always, but i finally finished this part! i actually just finished it and it's almost 2am and i have to go to work in fivehours. i'm publishing this part as it is and maybe tomorrow if i have the time i'll look at it again, bc i'm really exhausted right now. and also please forgive me if there are any mistakes in the text;((((. but i hope you guys enjoy this 7k monster of a chapter and i'll see you next time!!

series masterlist | bts masterlist | previous | next

The fourth book of your saga was a reflection of everything you had gone through when you moved with your family to the capital. You finished the third book when you had barely been in the city for a month and maybe that's why it didn't have a happy ending and why everyone who had read the trilogy had been devastated with that ending. It wasn't something you had planned from the beginning, but it wasn't something that ruined the plot either. It was actually much better than you had planned.

And when you finally finished with the trilogy, starting to write again wasn't hard, especially with so many mixed emotions and so much repressed pain coming back to the surface uninvited.

Maybe you hadn't been in connection with your strong feelings since then, when the city constantly reminded you that you had lost the only people you considered your true friends and the pain of their absence and the harsh reality was a knife burying itself in your chest over and over again. You hadn't felt this much since the moment you realized that they were able to live their lives without you, but you had to go through the mourning of losing them.

You hadn't felt this much since then, until that moment when, having been just a day since you had decided you would take the path of healing, you had to reopen the draft of your fourth book and find all those angry paragraphs, spit out words, piled up letters and whole pages filled with pure rage and pain; of disappointment and realization… of betrayal.

“Are you going to start again already? Don't you think you deserve a break?”

The words Yuna had spoken to you that morning were echoing in your head from the moment you read the first words of this draft and the memories began to well up, emotions making your hair stand on end and your throat close up.

It was almost funny to remember how incredibly angry you were when you first arrived in the city.

The city, with posters of Jungkook's face on every corner, with his performances on some screens or just teenagers talking about him and whispering about his music, it was practically impossible to escape it. The city, with radios blaring Yoongi's songs, in a cab or on public transportation, interviews blaring on TVs in shopping malls. The city, with the international news, which echoed so much, about the spectacular promises of modeling. The country couldn't be prouder to have representatives of that caliber, because the moment Taehyung and Jimin overtook the West and broke the international barrier, it was only a matter of time before the others followed suit and completely changed the idea of entertainment and media in the country.

The first months in the city were nauseating, when you had to get used to and overcome your emotions the hard way, fighting against the aggressive tide that all the time tried to drown you, and that was noticeable in every word and every scene of that book, and you were almost sure that if any of them read it, they would know immediately. If they wanted to know anything about you, if they were really interested, there would be no better way than through your books; in no other situation would you be so vulnerable.

You wondered, for a moment, if any of them would have read any of the books by now. If Namjoon would remember when you asked him for strange words to describe emotions and now they were captured in those impressions, or when you asked Jin and Hoseok for their opinion about the complex construction of your world and each of their peculiar and crazy details can be found in those pages. Just as your books had all the pieces of you, it also had crumbs of them, and you wondered if they would notice if they read it.

Don't you think you deserve a break?

Maybe you do. That's why you had decided to close that cycle once and for all, and there was no better way to do it than to finally start with the edition of this book. Of this fourth book, so strong in its toughness and determination, so vulnerable in its rage and palpable pain.

It was the cleanest and purest and truest version of you.

But as much as you deserved it, it felt more like punishment. Reliving those emotions and evoking those memories caused you more anguish and you didn't know if you could face a kind of shock therapy like that to finally let go.

“The editors said you'd be here.”

You saw Choi Dohyun standing, leaning against the door frame above the computer screen that still displayed the title of the first chapter of your fourth book. On a Wednesday at barely eight o'clock in the morning, the great CEO decided to set aside a few minutes of his busy time to gratify you with his presence.

His calm, serene and carefree expression was the contrast to the swirl of emotions that ran through that room, rising from the crown of your head. You could almost tell he wasn't venturing into the office because he could feel the tension radiating from your position at the desk. He must have even seen it on your face.

You sighed and barely waved at him, running your hands over your face, trying to ease your tense muscles a little.

“Is there a specific reason why you don't want the editors to read the book?”

Choi Dohyun was a mystery. You only knew about him from the three-hour conversation you had the day before, besides the strange looks he cast at Yoongi from his office entrance. He had shown himself to be a very open person and it was clear that he was an expert at making things work his way. You knew he had agreed to many of your conditions because what he would get in return was bigger than what it would cost him, which really wasn't too much, just enough to maintain a level of creative freedom that would allow you to access editorial support when you saw fit —because you knew that once you handed it over, it would no longer be entirely yours—and often businessmen reflected their own personalities in how they negotiated a deal.

Dohyun tried to come across as a fairly personable person; he tried to be understanding, communicative and open-minded, so much so that he reminded you of the comfortable security of an older brother. However, you could tell in that meeting that he held back too much; that he had hated the way Yuna used to interrupt him to ask him questions or how your brother would put too many buts in his mouth and try to get information out of him that he shouldn't give away. You could tell he was impatient, that he really expected the meeting to last less than twenty minutes because he was sure you would sign the contract blindly as soon as you saw the profits you'd gain from the distribution and sale of your books. You also noticed, in case it wasn't obvious already, that he preferred to be in control as long as the situation and the people around him allowed it, for his convenience. If he gave in on several occasions, you knew it had been because he was very, very aware of everything that benefited him.

There were two options: Choi Dohyun wore a mask constantly, or Choi Dohyun was a fraud.

“I just wanted to read it one more time… before handing it over. I won't take long.”

“It's okay. No problem.” Dohyun finally walked into the room, the office he had handed you for whenever you decided to go to his publishing house. You didn't even know writers had that option; you didn't know if it was common, but he allowed it. He had also offered you a writing kit that included a typewriter that looked quite expensive, and although you hadn't accepted it, there it was in one of the corners of the office. Dohyun sat across from you, glancing at the few things you had brought from home to make the place a little more pleasant. “I understand that sometimes it's hard to separate yourself from your work. It's a part of you, after all. A kind of vulnerability that not everyone sees.”

That was the kind of thing that kept Dohyun's true nature a mystery. His stoic expression as he blurted out words of comfort. It almost felt like running sandpaper over cement. Not that you needed to figure him out, because at the end of the day he was a boss of sorts and you two were bound by a contract with mutual economic benefits —technically, you were each there for a benefit of your own— but it was something you wanted to be aware of, watchful of, informed of, because you had no way of knowing this guy wouldn't try to take advantage of some situation later, in any possible scenario.

“Yes…”

“Take as much time as you need. The demand for the trilogy is still pretty high, after all.”

You nodded at him in response, wary of his attempt to lighten the mood. If he was the kind of person you thought he was, he surely knew you didn't feel an ounce of trust towards him.

“In just two days you must have quite a bit of work to do with that,” you tried to continue the conversation, interspersing your gaze over the letters on the screen and his dark eyes.

“But it's a very welcome work. Aren't you glad your books were so well received?”

“Yes,” you answered without hesitation, momentarily remembering the proud look on Yuna and your brother's face when they finally got you to see the reactions and opinions of your books on social media. “It's comforting. For your work to be appreciated, recognized… moreover, that it allows you to make a living from it. It's amazing and a very great privilege.”

Dohyun shook his head in assent, interlacing his fingers over his abdomen. From his nonchalant way of taking a seat across from you, slumped over the chair almost as if he was an old friend from college and not practically your boss, and from how his voice reflected that sense of calmness and confidence, you could almost tell he was perfectly selling the facade of the most trustworthy person in the world.

But ultimately it was your feeling and your need to automatically distrust anyone you met because you didn't know at what point they would try to take advantage of you or turn their back on you, and maybe Dohyun wasn't as bad a person as you wanted to paint him in your head. Maybe you would even accept that his presence was a bit comforting and that he actually reminded you of someone you used to know in the past and of whom currently, if you knew he was still alive, it was by sheer luck. That personality, that sense of security he conveyed and that way he had had of expressing himself to you in that meeting that showed a different and more mature kind of wisdom, indeed reminded you of someone else.

Dohyun was very, very much like Jin.

“Can I… ask you something?” you hesitated, alternating your gaze between the screen and his dark eyes, not quite sure if you wanted to go down that path, but aware that you would get something in return if you did, and perhaps the risk would be worth it. “But it's not related to… this.”

As you pointed to your computer and the rest of the office, you couldn't decipher what expression Dohyun sketched. Trying to read him like you did everyone else, it seemed he entertained a specific train of thought in his head and was sparked by your question, but you couldn't probe much further because he agreed, tilting his head to invite you to ask bluntly.

“How do you know Min Yoongi?”

Dohyun then lifted his chin and his lips curved into a sort of small smile that could more accurately be described as a grimace. With his eyes on the window, with the beautiful view of the city and its busy streets, Dohyun took his time to answer and his pleased and almost satisfied look gave you to understand that your question was not a surprise at all. Dohyun could take it simply as healthy curiosity, for after all Yoongi was a celebrity and there weren't many people around the country who couldn't recognize him and you literally saw him face to face.

However, of course, there was something about his attitude that felt different. He wasn't surprised by your question, it was true, but maybe not for the reason you thought.

“He's a friend of my best friend.” Dohyun finally answered, returning your gaze, a glint of amusement highlighting his dark eyes. “I met him a couple of years ago through him, who is also his best friend. Otherwise, I doubt we would've ever met.”

Ah, Dohyun had a best friend who was best friends with Yoongi. That could only mean one thing.

“Ah. Then your best friend is part of the seven kings.”

Dohyun raised his eyebrows, clearly amused by your choice of words and the permanence of that haunting smile and the glint in his eyes should've been warning enough. He had the posture, demeanor and speech of a person who knew he was in control of the situation. Whatever his purpose was in entertaining this conversation, you already knew you were involved in that reason, indirectly.

Dohyun knew something about you that you had no idea about.

“Yes, indeed. It's Kim Seokjin. We met in college.”

As you guessed, of course. That's where the similar traits you could find in his personality came from.

But then Yoongi wasn't directly friends with Dohyun, and they couldn't be that close because of the nonchalant way he referred to him, so the question of why he was here yesterday, precisely when you came, would remain unanswered. It could be a coincidence? Of course, and you could remain in doubt, or you could…

“Wow. You two really are a powerful duo.”

Dohyun let out a laugh, nodding, looking so comfortable with himself, as if you were asking all the questions you should be asking.

“I love my job and I know I'm good at what I do, but Jin is simply on another level.”

You nodded, getting into his game of pretending, with a half smile on your face.

You knew that if Yuna knew what you were doing she would shake her head and tell you that you were crazy; that you should try to be less hard on other people and that's why you had never been able to hit it off with the other co-workers in Sol's cafeteria.

“Yes. I hear he's a great surgeon. He was top of his class, wasn't he?”

“That's right.” Dohyun nodded, determined not to look away from you. “But you're close to them too, aren't you? I saw Taehyung's Instagram stories when he uploaded your books.”

You blinked. Once. And again. He had already figured you out, and now he wanted to reverse the table and get some kind of reaction or information from you that you didn't know what kind of mystery it would solve in his head. The best option was to feign a bit of surprise, which was what you did, as if you didn't expect him to suddenly bring that up.

“Well, we studied together in school, but we were never that close.”

You lifted a shoulder, trying to downplay the subject, as if on cue, and Dohyun nodded slightly processing the information, averting his gaze over the dark carpet on the floor. He seemed to be tying up loose ends in his head and had more questions, the way he squinted his eyes as you gave him his space to think.

You had no idea what he was getting at. You had already brought out to him that he was close friends with Kim Seokjin and that, basically by extension he knew Yoongi. You could almost say it was a bit of an ordinary, almost trivial topic, not overly suspicious. Unless, of course, he knew something else that raised his curiosity and made you look suspicious in his eyes for asking such questions.

It seemed the most certain theory.

“And through him you must have met the others sometime, right?”

And it seemed you were right, too.

You had to deny his assertion, you knew, but it seemed you had taken half a second too long because he beat you to the word, shaking his head in a nod, and then said:

“That explains a lot.”

“Huh?”

Play dumb, play dumb.

Dohyun cracked a big grin, looking almost like a predator in the midst of its hunt, and from that alone you knew he'd already put his puzzle together.

“Well… actually, now that we're being honest, Jin was the one who recommended me to read your books.”

Wow.

Okay.

Jin… told Dohyun about you? About your books?

That doesn't explain anything. In fact, more questions popped up in your head than you could control and you were sure Dohyun could see the question marks moving over your irises.

“He told me that there could be a great opportunity if I published you and he was really right. I don't regret sending you that offer.”

Dohyun leaned back against the backrest and stretched one of his arms over the chair next to him. His posture was a little more relaxed than before and you couldn't help the feeling of anger that ran through you because you had given him just what he wanted, but you couldn't concentrate too much on that because you were too surprised by what he had just blurted out, as if it was nothig.

Of all the things you could've imagined, you would never have considered that this huge and prestigious publishing house had offered you a contract just because one of the CEO's great friends had recommended it to him. I mean, if Jin had never talked about it, would you have had any chance of getting this offer? Of signing this contract? Would you have been recognized on your own merit and not because you were linked to the mouth of a close friend?

None of that made any sense. Why had Jin told Choi Dohyun about you? His best friend being the owner of the most prestigious publishing house in the country, clearly knowing the implications of his actions, why would he do that? Maybe he didn't count on his friend throwing him overboard someday for gossiping and because he has an ego bigger than his own head? Maybe he thought it would be an anonymous job forever? And for what reason? On what grounds? What kind of emotions moved him to make that decision? Maybe it was simply an altruistic desire. Maybe he was moved by the same thing that moved Taehyung, the one who started all this. But was it something premeditated or not? Was it something he had previously discussed with Namjoon? Would the others know about it? Would they have agreed? Would they not have cared?

In the midst of that mental stupor, the very idea of healing seemed stupid to you. The immense confusion and anger that was coursing through your blood had no place for this group of fools to continue to meddle in your life as if they were playing a fucking election game on their computer. Why? Why? Why?

You wanted to get out of a simple doubt with Dohyun, to know what kind of connection he had with Yoongi and that everything that had happened was a coincidence, and you had ended up with a thousand more questions, with a hundred confusions and even more mixed emotions.

And Yoongi… would he have been in his office yesterday for something related to that?

“At first I thought Taehyung had asked him, but Jin is quite careful about such things. He wouldn't hint something like that to me even because his brothers ask him to, unless it was someone he could vouch for. So you knew Jin too, right?”

You didn't try to deny it, but you didn't give him the reason either. Amidst a sea of questions and confusion, incredulous and angry, you just shook your head and crossed your arms.

“I'll bring the first draft tomorrow.”

Dohyun took his time, drumming his fingers on the wood of the chair, sending you a look as if he wanted to get more answers out of you because your attitude raised more doubts than he initially had. Maybe you let go of a wolf's leash or this would be a one-time occurrence, you had no idea. But he said nothing more. Finally he got up, said goodbye and left.

Don't you think you deserve a break?

You should've listened to Yuna.

The next day, when you finished editing the draft of your fourth book amid tears, several cups of coffee and an excruciating pain in your wrist, you finally handed it in to the editors with a heavy heart and an hour of sleep in your body. It had officially ceased to be yours. The revelation that Dohyun had actually offered you all of this because Jin had asked him to do so kept going round and round in your head and made you revise and edit that draft more harshly than you would've done before.

Maybe you added a few extra curse words.

“If you don't finish that pasta, I'm going to steal it from you.”

Yuna hadn't even finished her own plate and was already eyeing yours, her brow furrowed and her own fork stabbing the ceramic of the deep dish you'd served your friend in as she crossed the threshold of the front door. You had been stirring the food with your fork for a while, thinking, reflecting, theorizing, trying to figure out what you really wanted; trying to recognize and accept the emotions inside you that were upsetting you.

Your parents had left early and Seojun was back in his college dorms, so you invited Yuna to lunch because you knew she loved the pastries your mom made and because you thought it would do you good to have some company after turning in the draft of your book. But, really, you were more overwhelmed than before. Yuna's presence didn't stop the thoughts in your head from racing, nor did it erase from reality what had happened.

“Y/n?”

You raised your head.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, and tried to focus on eating lunch before rambling on.

“Is it because of the book?”

“No, no. Everything's fine. I was just thinking.”

“Do you think you should've waited a little longer to turn it in?”

You shook your head. “No.”

It wasn't an order from Dohyun or anything like that. You decided to get started on editing the next book because it was a bit desperate to have nothing to do. Before you could focus on the whole operational and logistical process of delivering the books, but now that was taken care of by a separate company and all you had to do was verify that the money was coming into your account and that was it. Not that it was bad, but you were not used to just sitting idly by. So you thought that continuing with the pre-publication editing of the next books might be a good way to pass the time.

You didn't expect, of course, the statement you heard the day before, let alone that it would knock down your motivation like the wind to dry leaves. After that conversation with Dohyun, you decided that the best thing you could do was to turn in that draft and give them as much work as possible as a distraction so that you wouldn't have to go back to that building for at least a couple of weeks. It wasn't a healthy activity, of course, because at the time you were only functioning to keep Yuna from questioning if there was something wrong with you. Well, she probably did, but she preferred not to comment on it, because you hadn't been giving her too many answers to her questions lately.

Having decided that Dohyun was an expert manipulator, you could only worry about the possibility that he might decide to comment something about that conversation to Jin or just stir up a conversation about the possible existence of a friendly bond with him during school time. You didn't know what could trigger that; with everything that had happened up to that point you could no longer be sure of anything or trust anything.

“No. I thought I'd turn it in now so I'd have more time to read the next books. I know that one isn't too bad. I revised it too many times while I was writing it and even after.”

“And it's pretty long, isn't it?”

You nodded, finally tasting another mouthful of pasta. “Seven hundred pages.”

“Holy Christ,” Yuna put a hand to her forehead and sketched a worried expression. Then her excited exclamation echoed throughout the house. “What a thrill! I can't wait to read it!!!!!!”

Yuna returned to work an hour later and you spent the rest of the afternoon between shifts of lying down staring at the ceiling and watching more videos about your books on social media, which you hadn't been able to leave since you saw them with your whole family in the living room. It still seemed surreal to you that you could search the name of your books on the internet and you would indeed get the results you expected. Clearly not all the opinions were praise, but you were willing to take all of that and learn, implement and consider it for the next stories you were willing to tell. For now, you were going to focus on keeping the editors busy enough that they wouldn't have to ask about it or demand your presence for any reason. This trilogy really was quite a lengthy saga, so when they finallt finish editing the fourth book, you'd have the fifth waiting, and so on. At least until you had another amazing idea for a new story.

Now, on the slightly more disturbing topics, you still had more loose ends to tie up than you had initially thought. As you still had those particles of anger running through your body and you were still convinced that there was still no room for healing and overcoming, you could only think about what Yoongi's presence in Dohyun's office was about and if it had to do with what Jin had done.

That was the first line of thought. The second one sounded more like Yuna with her serious voice trying to talk some sense into you and tell you that you were seeing into it too much, that surely it was all just a coincidence and that Yoongi's presence was just some kind of crossfire.

But… yet… how many more times did something like this have to happen before you stopped chalking it up to coincidence? How many more times would you say it was a coincidence until everything started to connect to a purpose? Did they even have a purpose? Did they have a reason for all this, for all this unnecessary drama? And was their reason worth it to compensate for the instability you were going through? Having pent up emotions, confusion, lots of doubts and zero answers was about to drive you crazy.

However, maybe seeing things from another approach would allow you to understand.

Because, honestly, you saw it as too complicated to be able to leave them behind in this way, when it seemed that, on purpose or not, you would keep finding them in your soup. Adopting a slightly more objective approach, even though your emotions were always running high when it came to them, could give you the resolution you were looking for and the answer to the questions you were asking yourself. And there would be nothing more than that, because it would be impossible to restore the friendship you once had. Perhaps the truth would be painful, but you would accept it as it was and move on. Now, as old as you were, it would not be as hard as it was ten years ago when in the midst of confusion and desolation you could only cry.

Now, you had already gone through the mourning and made peace with the distance, the absence and the betrayal.

Maybe, if you tried a little harder, you could bring real closure —and soon, hopefully— by finding the answers on your own.

Kim Namjoon used to believe that he was good at dealing with any kind of problem. In his head, which he was spinning around like a huge sphere and he was a hamster, Namjoon was sure that he could fix any situation and solve any misunderstanding, any fight or at least come to an agreement that would make everyone feel comfortable enough to move forward.

In his head, Namjoon was a three thousand dollars conflict-solver. Seeking solutions from reason and objectivity was basically how he kept his company afloat, that company he had inherited from his parents and had turned into the economic juggernaut it was today. All that success was summed up in the capacity for resolution that Namjoon had in his super head and, of course, his strategic capacity that allowed him to read his opponents and know exactly what they wanted, how they wanted it and when they wanted it.

However…

The whole table was still silent.

And Namjoon could only look at the faces of each of his friends, his best friends, practically his brothers, while they shied away from his gaze or directly ignored him, while he clasped his hands on the edge of the chair and tried to keep his composure because he no longer knew what to do.

Kim Namjoon, the three-thousandth troubleshooter, had a factory defect and could not fix the one thing he had always been able to fix with ease.

When Hoseok had walked into his office two nights ago with that stern and serious expression, Namjoon knew that there would be more problems to solve. But if he had to be honest, even before that moment he knew it wasn't working out well. Maybe it was because of the delicacy of the subject or the crudeness of his friends to address it, but Namjoon was losing the important ingredient of patience and that was something that hadn't happened to him before.

But then again, how could they all be so insensitive?

“Doesn't anyone have anything to say?”

Hoseok had been the only one to be spared from this discussion, though his presence was required at the table and tension radiated from his body in equal amounts. The others were directly attacked by the three thousandth (broken) problem-solver and despite Namjoon giving them a space to try to explain the situation, the table was still silent and with each passing second the pressure cooker containing Namjoon's anger was beeping louder and louder.

“I don't think there's much to say.”

It was Jin who finally broke the silence and Namjoon let out some air.

“Ah, thank you, Jin. Why do you think so?”

With his arms crossed, the older sent him an incredulous look.

“We've had this conversation three times already, Namjoon. Why do you think it's necessary for us to keep repeating ourselves?”

Hoseok had told Namjoon that he was concerned about the coexistence in the pent-house and that perhaps the elephant in the room was not being addressed in the right way; that more and more misunderstandings were being created between everyone and that it was making for an untrustworthy environment for the youngers. Namjoon agreed halfway through; if he had to be honest, none of it would've gotten to that point if none of them had been so irresponsible and daring to do all that they had done. And Jin had the least right to dismiss the issue as he had.

“Because you all don't seem to have listened to me at all, especially you.”

Jin snorted and turned his head away. Jungkook beside him barely winced at the hostile exchange.

“And what did I do?”

“What did you do? Jin, how can you be so inconsiderate?”

“I only rushed an exchange that was eventually going to happen, what the fuck is wrong with that?”

Namjoon tried not to look so surprised by the fact that the conversation he had had with him two nights ago and Yoongi had basically gone in one ear and out the other. Namjoon had no idea if it was an occupational hazard or a personality trait, but Jin was having a kind of stubbornness that bordered too much on his pride and desire to be right.

And right now it wasn't about who was right or wrong. It was about the fact that they had all made a promise and now they were breaking it as if it was worthless. Worse, as if the only ones affected by it were them and not a third party.

“Didn't you stop to think how she would feel if she found out that was how things went down?”

Jin rolled his eyes, but didn't answer him.

“Why do you all do all these things without believing that they will have consequences beyond your own feelings? That's all I'm asking you to consider!”

Taehyung and Jungkook at least had the decency to actually look embarrassed, avoiding Namjoon's gaze. Jimin was still convinced that he had done nothing extremely wrong and Yoongi simply demonstrated his sorrow through indifference. Namjoon knew that Yoongi was just as frustrated as he was with the way things were going, because they were the only ones trying to fix the messes the others had been thoughtlessly causing. And Jin… well, it was obvious that he didn't see any big implications beyond having to be scolded by Namjoon.

“Guys…” Hoseok started, sitting to Namjoon's right with a tired and defeated expression. If Namjoon and Yoongi were looking out for the integrity of the third party concerned, Hoseok was the one who was most concerned about the bonds that were breaking between them and that was why he had gone to Namjoon to have a group meeting again and set the boundaries once and for all. “You guys know that Namjoon is not just talking for the sake of talking. Jin, you don't need to get defensive. I understand that you tried to make the connection in good faith, but you have to understand that it was a very high risk. And while Dohyun is your friend, you know he's not very trustworthy.”

Jin grunted then, despite the kind tone Hoseok used to address him, and the others at the table only sent him a surprised look.

“Sure, now it's all my own damn fault. Not only do I have to deal with the stress of work, now I have to come to my supposed time off to deal with this too?”

“Hyung,” Yoongi called after him and frowned at the rude tone the older had used. “No one is saying it's your fault. We all have a part in this.”

“I don't care, Yoongi. Whatever's going on right now you know who's really to blame. And there's nothing you can do about it anymore.”

“Jin,” Namjoon called back and the aforementioned turned to look at him with daggers in his eyes. “You made the promise too.”

“Yes, one I never agreed to and you know it.”

Hoseok sighed and ran his hands over his face. “This is not the time to apportion blame, okay? I only wanted this space because I want us to fix this lack of communication and all this hostility that is affecting our living together.”

Namjoon turned to look at the table, finding the younger ones sealed in silence. None of them raised their heads and they showed signs of nervousness and anxiety, even if they tried to hide it under the tablecloth on the table.

There were too many things Namjoon wanted to control; there were too many things he wanted to solve; there were a number of other things that drove him mad and others that made him feel hopeless. Understanding all these emotions, his own or others', was wearing him down and perhaps that was why he was increasingly losing an ounce of patience. However, no matter how hard it was for him, Namjoon had to be sure that his priority was right in front of him. He had chosen to do so a couple of years ago and he could no longer turn back time.

“Hey, I'm sorry, okay?” Namjoon started once again and although Hoseok tried to shush him to calm down, he continued, “I know how I've acted during these days since everything started and I have not been very open to dialogue. For me it was… it was like crossing a forbidden boundary and I couldn't understand how you guys could jump over it without a second thought. It made my hair stand on end and I didn't… I didn't… I didn't know how to contain those emotions, I didn't know how to control them and clearly I didn't know how to express them. And the truth is that it worries me. I understand that you don't, because otherwise you wouldn't have done any of that, but I would like you to try to do that because this is not a unilateral action that will only affect you and will only be in your memories. You are affecting her too, and very much so. We were not good, not even friendly or cordial, so I need you to understand that all these things she will not see them as you think. Jungkook, you experienced it first hand. She hates us.”

Jungkook jerked on the chair and Taehyung was the one who reached over the table to take his intertwined hands. Jin sighed, finally letting the anger dissipate and Yoongi mimicked him, a little calmer as he watched his elder relax. Hoseok shook his head in assent, noticing the tension at the table dissipate a bit and how the young men held each other.

“And rightly so, because we made an inexcusable decision. And not only that, but she will now believe that it was a simple Tuesday for us and it's not. We made the promise for a reason and anything related we were supposed to consult first as a group. Sure, life happens and we get busy with a lot of things and have too much on our minds, but this was all inexcusable and we owe her more than forgiveness. We probably owe her our lives.”

“Hyung, I'm sorry…”

Jungkook was the most regretful. Since that harsh encounter, for which he dared to risk his presence in public and for which he believed it would be worth a try, Jungkook had never regretted something so much since the day of the promise. He still remembered the hatred your voice exuded and shivers ran down his spine. He had been unconscious, that was true, and he didn't know what he had let consume his body to have made that decision or to have simply acted without thinking. The possibility of seeing you again simply…blinded him. But that was never an excuse.

And Namjoon knew that. It was Jungkook who acted worse than everyone else, but he also couldn't deny to himself that had he found himself in the same predicament, with the same opportunity, he wouldn't have done the same. Maybe that's why he was so demanding of others, because that's how he reminded himself that he had no right to even think about it, much less act on their emotions, when they had taken away your choice as if they had any say in it.

“We can't erase what has already happened and what you have already done. All I ask is that you don't make it worse.” Namjoon implored, closing his eyes in silent prayer. “At this point there is no way to fix anything, and if every day we do things like this we are only inflicting pain on someone who doesn't deserve it. So please, for the love of God, leave her alone.”

The whole table was still silent, but this time Namjoon could clearly see everyone's face and notice their emotions right away, as he had always been able to do. He still didn't understand what had moved them to do all that; to Taehyung, to Jungkook, to Jin, to Jimin, despite everything they had discussed before, and he didn't understand how he hadn't been able to foresee their intentions from the beginning. But he could no longer focus on what had happened, but on what was happening and what he could still fix.

For that which had already been broken for years, Namjoon doubted too much that any of it could ever be fixed, no matter how hard he tried. And boy, would he have wanted to try.

“I'm sorry,” Jin mumbled, and it almost seemed like he had ripped the words from the back of his throat, but Namjoon took it with all his being and considered it the first victory on this new path.

When he finally dispatched everyone, Jimin remained seated to his left.

“Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

The blond looked disgruntled, and though it was clear that the tension was gone from his shoulders, in his gaze was that longing that Namjoon hadn't seen in years and certainly didn't allow in himself for all that he had previously exposed.

“Do you really think it's impossible to fix it?”

Namjoon hated knowing that the gleam in Jimin's eye had no future. At least not the one he wanted to believe. Namjoon, like everyone else, had spent sleepless nights thinking, remembering, reflecting and considering that they were never brave enough nor necessarily tough enough to earn that friendship once again. It had all gone to waste and it had been because of them.

“Yeah, I don't think that's possible.”

Jimin passed his saliva harshly, as if his mouth was dry, but he had to control and keep his emotions in check. Namjoon knew his every emotion and mainly knew how sensitive this whole issue was for Jimin, who from the beginning never agreed with him on anything and never hesitated to let him know. In fact, it took a couple of years before Namjoon could finally have this close relationship with Jimin again, until the blond decided to forgive him.

“It's silly to hope at this point, right?”

Namjoon also knew that Jimin struggled a lot to stop pointing blames, as Jin still did. He knew that, had Jimin had the opportunity in his hands several years in the past, he would have taken it and perhaps left them behind if he could. It was an extremely complex and long process to get the blond to trust Namjoon and those on his side again, which was one of the reasons why Hoseok was so insistent on talking and communicating and keeping everyone on good terms. It had cost them so much to re-form their trust that he couldn't allow it to crack once again.

Jimin nodded at his words when they were met with silence, for there was nothing Namjoon could say to comfort him. It was simply a heartbreaking situation.

“Tae and I will be with Jungkook.” Jimin assured Namjoon as he stood up. “Thank you… for trying.”

Namjoon only nodded, pressing his lips together in an attempt at a smile. Things would not automatically go back to the way they were before, as Namjoon's sternness in dealing with this issue on previous occasions was what initially caused this whole fiasco of miscommunication and hostility. He was heartily grateful that likewise Jimin took him into consideration, because he didn't know if he would be able to sleep knowing that everyone in that pent-house hated him. He didn't know if being the reason for the constant discord would allow him to have a respite of peace of mind at some point, when he was simply trying to do what he thought was best for everyone and what suited them on a sentimental level.

Kim Namjoon used to believe that he was good at dealing with any kind of problem. In his head, over which he circled as if it was a huge sphere and he was a hamster, Namjoon was sure that he could fix any situation and provide a solution to any misunderstanding, any fight or at least come to an agreement that would allow everyone to feel comfortable enough to move forward.

However, at that moment, the past tense wording was the most accurate.

Namjoon used to believe.

Jimin stopped halfway up the stairs, transfixed, and Namjoon watched him curiously. Then, the blond half-turned on his heels and Namjoon got front row view of Jimin's pale face and his exaggeratedly expanded eyes as he looked at his phone.

“Hyung…”

Namjoon came striding over, intrigued as well as concerned by the expression on the blond's face.

Jimin had his Instagram open, specifically his direct messages. There was the message there that had made Jimin stop dead in his tracks and all blood dropped to his feet, but Namjoon didn't understand what the reason for his surprise was until he saw the sender, and then his eyebrows disappeared into his hair.

y/n Let's meet

omg🙊🙊

tag: @rinkud@futuristicenemychaos@pastelpeachess@parapiop7@11thenightwemet11 @yoongznme @queenbloody @lynnettys-world @darlingz99 @dreamerwasfound @chaotickyrith @kokoandkookie @midiplier @thunderg @lizzymizzy-blogg @ladymorrie @butnotmontana @lovelgirl22 @jjeonjjk7 @aurorathi @ot7stansthigs @kunacat @borahaetelevision @mylovingstars @ghostlyworld @talyaaas-blog @slowlyshycomputer @jjk174 @maynina @kariningss @juju-227592 @zippaur @v4ksk4tz @kookierry @idk179634 @canarystwin @jincapableoflove @notrustfratedjin @elliott-calls @devilzliaison @ismelllikechlorine247 @19yearoldjstryingtolivelife @thatgirliehan @yuuuumii @welcometomyworld13 @sugarbaby69x @whoa-jo @cerulean1riz @kawennote09 @angelfuzzy2 @themoonsblueside @damn-u-min-yoongi @drenix004 @dhanyasri @borahaetelevision

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aspergerasparagus · 3 days ago

Text

Oh no I did again, more toxic yaoi but this time there's a lot more of it cos I finally finished it after like a week. Woops.

Anyway Frankie discovers a new way to make money and the contestant is suffering once again. Enjoy.

Also on Ao3

Preparations for the new season had been progressing well, although it would still take them longer for this season given that certain cast members had been disposed of and their replacements were taking some time to be completed. In the meantime to keep the fans engaged and excited for the show's return Frankie had had a rather genius idea, if he said so himself. Well not entirely, Lucky had been the one to inadvertently mention it while making himself dinner. The human had mentioned that with all the cameras everywhere he was starting to feel like he was in one of those content houses he had seen online. This had of course led to Frankie badgering Lucky for the next few hours, demanding all the details especially after he accidentally mentioned the revenue such things were generating. Of course his contestant had adamantly refused to let Frankie stream him 24/7, kicking off about how it was “an invasion into their privacy”, wasn’t he aware the rabbit was already watching his every movement… Regardless Frankie had begrudgingly come to an agreement with Lucky, only being allowed to stream him during certain hours and not without telling him they were live. While this could have cut into the possible profits, it did also reduce the risk of someone slipping up while keeping the fans hungry for more.

So for the next week, Frankie would stick to his word and the new livestream would go on for a couple of hours each day, slowly gaining a following with people clamouring to see more of their adored winner. Of course while Lucky was the star, Frankie was always close by, always there to come up with ideas with what his little cash cow could do that day to earn them some additional funds and to moderate if Lucky started to act up.

It was during their last livestream that Frankie finally noticed that there had been a gradual shift in the chat’s tone. Originally he hadn’t paid it much attention, leaving it mostly to Lucky to keep an eye on and engage when necessary. But as the days went on he slowly started to take more of an interest. It seemed that while there was still a good majority of people here just to see Lucky try and speedrun the parkour courses or make a fool out of himself, there was also a much larger subsection who seemed to be there not just for him. Frankie had found himself being mentioned more and more in the chat logs, which he assumed was due to his charisma and unusual appearance, but when reading through them later that night he realised it wasn’t just himself being mentioned, it was both of them within the same messages. A lot of research and googling terms later (seriously what did toxic yaoi mean?) finally led Frankie to the conclusion that a fairly substantial number of the viewers were only there to see Frankie and Lucky interact with one another. It seemed they were becoming the hot new “couple” and from Frankie had researched, couples streams made even more money.

The following day as always Frankie cheerfully made his way over to Lucky’s room, not even attempting to knock before he barged his way into the room.

“Wakey, wakey my lucky contestant we have a new day of content to film and we are going to need to get started early as I have an extra exciting day for us!” Lucky just groaned and clamped the pillow tighter over his head in a feeble attempt to block out his intruder's chipper voice. Letting out a small snort of amusement, Frankie effortlessly yanked the pillow away before pulling the man out of his bed by his collar, earning him an earful. “Now, now none of that Lucky. I need you up and ready and looking your best for today’s stream. This is going to be the biggest one yet.” The man gave him a curious look from behind the mask (Frankie made him sleep in it, just in case), before finally yanking his shirt free from the rabbit’s grip.

“What’s so special about this one? Wait if you’re starting the next season early I swear I’ll push you into one of those grinder myself!” Frankie just waved his hand to dismiss his golden goose’s concerns as the man bristled next to him.

“Of course I’m not! We’re nowhere near that stage yet, do you know how hard it is to make a replacement for Henry. Urgh the investors are still pissed off about that one… Nethertheless I promise this will be a nice and easy stream. So you can wipe that scowl off your face and get dressed, I’ll even get breakfast ready for you~” Humming to himself Frankie saw himself out while Lucky just stared after him, a small shiver going down their spine.

Frankie had been busying himself in the small kitchen he had set up when Lucky finally joined him. The man seemed on edge as he sat in the chair furthest away from the rabbit, their body stiff and ready to jump to action. His little contestant had good instincts, even if he didn’t know what Frankie had instore for him today he still knew him too well to not suspect something. Frankie purred softly as he grinned widened, that’s why Lucky was his number one contestant, the show's only winner. His special little human. Plating up the food he set it down in front of the man, who looked at it like it was poisoned.

“Don’t look at it like that, it’s just normal food I swear. I’d offer to taste it for you but we both know that wouldn’t do much.” The sickly sweet tone didn’t reassure the Contestant who hesitantly poked at it before slowly placing a forkful into their mouth, correctly assuming Frankie wouldn’t temper with the food, at least not without the cameras rolling. Smirking to himself, Frankie took a seat next to the man, resting his head in his hands as he took in the human, earning him a sour look.

“You’re being far too nice today.”

“Can’t I be nice to my biggest money maker?”

“Absolutely not, it’s you were talking about Mr murder parkour game host. I’m not stupid enough to think you’ve just turned over a new leaf. You’re up to something and I’m going to take a shot that it’s not going to be good for me.” Frankie could only chuckle and sit back as Lucky spat out his accusations. He was right of course, which only tickled the rabbit even more.

“Perhaps, but I assure you you won’t get injured, intentionally anyway.” Dropping the announcer voice, Frankie leaned in closer to Lucky who froze instinctively, his voice lowering as he murmured against their ear. “Who knows, you might even enjoy today’s stream. I know I will~”

Lucky bolted out of their chair like it had been electrified, causing it to clatter to the floor with a metallic clang as he pressed himself against the wall behind them. His body was shaking as he kept his eyes locked with the rabbit’s as they just let out a cruel chuckle, pleased with the reaction.

“Jumpy today aren’t we? Well I won’t torment you any more… for now at least. So eat up and I’ll see you when you’re done, Lucky.” Dusting himself off, Frankie left the man cowering against the wall shooting daggers at him the whole time until he was out of sight. Frankie could feel the pep in his step as he headed back towards his office to make sure everything had been set up as he had asked. He wanted everything to go as planned but given how suspicious and high-strung his contestant was being, he was sure he’d have to resort to his plan B. Frankie couldn’t stop the sneer that spread across his lips at that idea. He had hoped it would end up that way. Not only would it give the viewers something truly special to watch but he couldn’t deny it was getting him worked-up just thinking about it. Stopping at the entrance to his office he gripped the handle and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. There would be time for this later, for now he had to focus before Lucky eventually worked up the nerve to show his face and begin the stream of their lives.

It took Lucky less time than Frankie had expected for them to appear at his door. He really needed to stop underestimating just how impressive his star could be. Taking his usual seat, the man crossed his arms, huffing slightly, like a child annoyed with their parents for some perceived injustice, as he fixed the rabbit’s stare.

“Go on then. It’s not like I’ll be able to get out of this, but if you try anything Frankie I swear-”

“Oh hush, you’ll be fine Lucky. I promise. It might not even be that long of a stream in the end if you behave and follow the script.” Frankie could see their eyes narrow behind their mask, even less trusting of the creature now. Nonetheless he finally heard them sigh as they flopped back into the chair, resigning themselves to the whims of their showrunner.

“Fine. What have you got instore for me today? Speedruns? Parkour demonstration? Oh please don’t let it be another cooking tutorial that went so bad last time-” Chuckling Frankie held his hand up silencing the man.

“No, nothing like that this time. Thankfully. Today’s stream as mentioned will be a little… different. I’ll explain everything to you, and our audience, at the time. So come along, and no I am not telling you anything before you start making demands. Like I said you’ll find out in due time~” The smooth voice he put on did nothing to ease the contestant who, after hesitating for a moment, followed after him, mumbling under their breath about how bad he knew this was going to turn out. Of course Frankie could correct him, but honestly he was getting a kick out of keeping his little Lucky in the dark.

Typically Frankie did most of their broadcasts within the more centralised areas of the facility or within the lobby areas. Good lighting and “safer” areas where Lucky could show off his skills. But for today’s broadcast he had a slightly different idea, given he was sure he knew how the reveal was going to play out and it would save on time when the inevitable happened. Leading his contestant towards Frankie’s Frosted Peak, he noticed out of the corner of their eye how the man began to stiffen as he realised their destination. Typically Lucky avoided this area of the facility, most likely due to the possibility of a certain someone releasing the slime onto him but he did occasionally venture there if Frankie was in tow. Well he wouldn’t have to worry about the fear of drowning this time, something much worse would be chasing him this time if Frankie played his cards right.

Reaching their destination the rabbit beckoned this superstar inside and positioned him just by the check-in line before clicking his fingers. At the sound a couple of drones whirled to life and drifted up into the air, slowly beginning to circle the pair, the cameras attached to them swivelling to fix themselves on their targets. Frankie saw Lucky’s eyes darting between the drones, a look of confusion coming over him. Of course these were a new product the rabbit had been able to purchase with the funds his little money maker had been able to so generously generate for him, and of course he’d gotten the best money could buy (well within reason, the investors were keeping a closer eye on his spending habits recently). Clearing his throat, Frankie took centre stage as the lights on the drones flickered to life and the familiar sound of the other cameras turning on echoed around the room. The chat screens soon began to flood with a wall of text, endless streams of messages that passed by so quickly it was almost impossible to read one before another immediately took its place.

“Welcome ladies and gentlemen to a new stream! I’m sure you are all excited to see what we have planned for you today and I assure you today will be a very special episode. As you might have seen on our social media pages we have been planning a special little gift for our most devoted followers. You know who you are, I’ve seen the comments~” The teasing tone caused the chat to burst into a frenzy of messages, while Lucky just glared at the back of the rabbit’s head. He knew something was wrong and was about to voice his grievances before Frankie spoke up once more.

“So as a thank you from the both of us, we have a treat instore for you. First off a certain chat filter has been removed temporarily, you know the one I mean, and secondly your favourite host and his lucky little rabbit will be putting on a show for you, all you have to do is choose what show that will be~” Clicking his fingers again, the screen behind them on the Peak blinked on revealing a poll of some sorts. Frankie could only smirk as he saw Lucky squinting from behind his mask to try and read it before he froze, realisation dawning on him. Making his way over to his favourite contestant, a soft purr escaped the rabbit as he leant down to whisper in the man’s ear, his voice almost feverish.

“I told you this was going to be a special show, Lucky. Aren’t you excited? I am positively ecstatic myself. I wonder what option they’ll choose? You know which one I’m hoping for, don't you my little rabbit~” Lucky could only stare ahead, eyes transfixed on the screen as the votes began to pour in by the thousands, the words atop it, flickering menacingly back at him.

Choose our first date activity!

“W-what the hell is this about? What’s going on Frankie?” His voice faltered slightly as he forced the words out of his throat, still unable to process what exactly was happening. Letting out a soft chuckle, the rabbit nuzzled his cheek lightly causing Lucky to jump away from him, eyes wide with confusion before quickly a wave of anger spread over them.

“This is what all those bloody streams were for weren’t they?! Just some fucking excuse to make me play out your twisted little fantasies! How didn’t I see it before!” Frankie could only grin wider as Lucky finally began to put the pieces together. While he’d give the man credit, he was smart enough to be able to read the rabbit pretty well, it seemed he was fairly blind to the actions being carried out around him. Never realising the narrative arc being acted out around him by Frankie until it had to be spelled out for him on a giant screen with thousands pouring in to vote on his fate. Honestly Frankie would be disappointed if this wasn’t so satisfying to watch play out in real time.

Finally composing himself, Lucky rounded on the announcer, grabbing him by the bow tie and dragging him down to eye level. Frankie could feel the man trembling with rage (and embarrassment) as he glowered up at him

“Stop the fucking vote!”

“Oh? You don’t want our fans to help choose the perfect first date for us? Are you getting all shy again my little rabbit~?” The fake sincerity in his voice only made the man’s grip tighten on his tie. He’d never managed to piss off his little contestant like this before. Such pure, unfiltered animosity and resentment radiated off the tiny little human, it was practically suffocating and it was all directed solely at him. Frankie was completely intoxicated and loving every moment of it.

Arousal probably wouldn’t have been the correct word to use to describe how he felt right now, given that he wasn’t technically able to feel something like that given his state of being, but he was sure this was a very close facsimile of it. Perhaps euphoria or delirium could also be used to aid in its description. Regardless, Frankie’s plan was playing out even better than he could have ever imagined and his little Lucky was playing his role perfectly. Now to see just how well the man could keep it up seeing as they were barely even halfway through the first act.

“I said stop the fucking vote!”

“I can’t. These people paid good money to watch us go on a cute date and they’ll get that. Neither of us can afford to make the big men upstairs mad at us now can we?” Hissing like an angry cat, Lucky lurked away from the rabbit, a look of pure resentment in his eyes.

“Bastard…” Frankie could only giggle before he turned his attention to the chat screens, to see what they thought of their little lovers tiff. They were eating it up. The chat had now worked itself into a frenzy as messages spilled in by the second, all clamouring to demand more. Suggestions on how Frankie should deal with his “naughty little bunbun”, people questioning how this was going to play, people chanting to get their choice to the top of the poll and a variety of other messages, all echoing the same fanatic energy as the rest of the chat. Now to give them a real show.

“But perhaps there is another way if you are really so set on not playing with me Lucky…” The man stopped his pacing to stare the rabbit down. It was clear that he wasn’t remotely close to trusting another word that came out of the monstrosities' mouth but if it meant getting out of his current situation he would at least consider listening.

“The people need a show. They have all paid good money to be here, so we need to put on something that they’ve never seen before and that fits in with our clients… tastes. So I propose a little wager, nothing bad I swear. You won’t get hurt and if you win, no date. How does that sound Lucky?” The man just held the rabbit’s gaze and he let that offer process. There was the possibility that Lucky would refuse. Just say fuck it and go on the “date” regardless of what it would turn out to be and that would be that. But Frankie knew his little rabbit too well now, better then maybe he knew himself. He knew what he’d choose, that is why he’d planned this out. Why he’d even brought him to the Peak to begin with. He was playing right into his hand without even realising. This wasn’t for the viewers or the money anymore, this was just for Frankie’s entertainment now.

“... What do you propose?”

“A little game. Very simple; you win, no date.”

“And if I lose, I have to go on the date?”

“Correct. You’ll also need to play along regardless of what is chosen. Give the people what they want.” Lucky fell silent again before finally sighing and resigning himself to his fate.

“What game do you have in mind? I’m guessing us being here isn’t a coincidence.” Frankie felt a shiver run down his spine as he turned to face the cameras once more.

“So observant my golden goose! I suggest we play a simple game of “tag”. You try to get away from me while I chase you. Manage to get to the top before I can catch you and you’ll win. I’ll even give you a head start~” The chat was lapping this up, the messages quickly devolving into mindless key smashing over the idea of them seeing the two objects of obsession playing out a common trope in their fantasies (Frankie was all too aware of the type of things that were being written about them regarding situations similar to this). Meanwhile Lucky just eyed the climb behind him. He’d done it before, he could easily do it again. Frankie was sure there he was thinking that there was a strong possibility he could beat him, hell Frankie (the actual one), couldn’t catch him. What chance could this little rabbit who spent all his time watching tv screens and narrating possibly do?

“Fine, but I get a 30 second head start.”

“10.”

“20. And no slime.” Frankie could only purr as Lucky went to take his place at the starting line, not giving the rabbit a chance to argue.

“You can be so demanding my cheeky little rabbit~” Beckoning the drones, they followed after him and soon took up position, one coming to rest just beside the contestant while the other hovered just over Frankie’s shoulder.

“Now chat, remember to root for who you want to win and let’s see if our only winner can beat the Peak once more!” Dropping the voice he chuckled softly. “May the best player win Lucky but I’ll warn you, don’t go easy on me. I’m not going to let you get away from me with what’s on the line.” Frankie saw them shiver before they snapped their head back around to focus on the course in front of them. Clicking his fingers the chat moved to the large screen on the peak, pushing the voting poll to the side so they could witness how the viewers were chanting for them.

“Okay, so on my mark! Ready, steady, run rabbit run~”

Lucky was off the starting line like a bolt, the drone shooting after him to make sure it didn’t miss a single shot. He was fast, faster then he was during the 57th season. All the training he’d been doing since he’d “agreed” to stay on was certainly starting to show itself off now. He was effortlessly vaulting himself over the obstacles set up in his path and sliding under others. However while Frankie was admiring his contestant he was also keeping a countdown in his head, counting down the seconds until he could go after his prey prize. The moment he hit 20 he coiled his legs up before launching himself up the first ledge of the course completely negating anything before it. Easily flipping himself up he looked up to see Lucky just ahead of him getting ready to deal with the rotating platform, the man risked looking over his shoulder after he heard the rabbit land and Frankie saw their eyes snap wide as he realised what the rabbit was up to.

“Fucking cheating bastard…”

While Lucky was used to the other Frankie simply chasing him down like a mindless beast, he was a lot more cunning, able to more freely utilise the benefits this body of his provided him. And he intended to utilise everything he had to put on a good show. Charging ahead after his fleeing contestant it didn’t take long till he was on their heel, getting close enough he could have grabbed them had they not suddenly swerved to the side, sending him off balance and threatening to topple over. Taking his momentary stumble Lucky quickly launched themselves to the next level, leaving Frankie to try and correct himself before pulling himself up after them. But Frankie didn’t care. This was so much fun! Chasing after his contestant like a scared little rabbit was definitely something he could get used to (he could finally understand the appeal the other Frankie saw in it), and he was thankful it would play out for longer. It also seemed that he wasn’t the only one enjoying this. He knew Lucky would deny it but he’d seen it when they’d dodged him. The spark in his eyes. He was enjoying this too and that only got the rabbit more worked up. The thrill of the chase infecting both of them and ensuring that both would give it their absolute all.

Higher and higher the two climbed, neither letting the other get a chance in. The chat screamed out for them, chanting their names over and over as they continued their game of cat and mouse. It was looking too close to decide who would come out on top as Lucky rounded the final bend and sprinted ahead towards the peak. Frankie was loving every minute but alas all good things had to come to an end and he had no intention of letting his contestant beat him. There was too much at stake after all~ Lining up he saw Lucky sneak a glance towards the peak, just a few meters and he’d be the winner. And that distraction was all Frankie needed. Lowering himself to all fours (undignified he knew) he launched himself forward tackling the man who only had the chance to yelp before they both crashed into a pile just a couple of meters short of the finish line.

Without missing a beat Frankie pinned the man flat on his back, hands gripping his wrists as they struggled under him but it was no use, Frankie had caught his prey and he wasn’t letting him get away now. They both remained silent for a moment except for the contestant's laboured pants filling the air as he tried to catch his breath, eyes locked on each other. The chat must be losing their collective mind right now. Finally Frankie leant down, mere inches from Lucky’s face as the man just held his gaze. His voice was low as he spoke, a small quiver to it as he had yet to come down from the high of the chase.

“I caught you my little rabbit~” Unable to keep his composure at the suggestive tone, Lucky finally looked away earning him a chuckle from the rabbit on top of him. Given the small muted noise they’d made it seemed he’d embarrassed them. Cute.

“Fine, fine you won. Now get off me already! We don’t need to be giving anyone any more ideas…”

“Oh trust me, this is nothing compared to what I’ve seen them write about us~” The man could only flash him a look of confusion and concern at that comment but that was enough about that for now. Nuzzling his cheek Frankie finally lifted himself off the contestant, offering them a hand as they went to climb to their own feet. After debating for a moment he hesitantly took it only to cry out as Frankie threw him up into his arms, and while carrying him bridal style (for the fans), leapt off the peak earning him a number of curses as Lucky grabbed at him.

Once safely back on the ground, and after having to dodge a kick to his face, the rabbit took up his position, making sure the chat was clearly visible.

“And there we have it folks! A race like you’ve never seen before here at Frankie’s Parkour Palace! Wasn’t that exciting? I know I enjoyed myself wholeheartedly throughout the whole thing~” The chat burst into life once more, clamouring to scream their praises, complimenting the contestant on how well they did and a lot of the chat becoming a little more descriptive as they went over how Frankie caught his bunbun and how they had wanted to see how it could have played out. Frankie could only smirk as Lucky went red behind their mask as he continued to read the chat. What till he saw the fanart Lucky had found of the both of them. Clearing his head he reached over and pulled the man to his side, slipping a hand onto his shoulder.

“However seeing as I was the winner it’s time to see what date option, you the chat, has voted on. I can hardly contain myself to see what option you have all voted on, and I’m sure Lucky is just as intrigued to see what you have in store for him! Now to final votes!”

Clicking his fingers once more the screen moved to show the votes, slowly moving up from the fewest to the final viewers choice. Frankie could feel Lucky stiffen under his hand, their hands gripping his costume for comfort as he awaited his fate, hardly able to breath. As the list slowly rose up, Frankie could only pull Lucky closer to himself until it finally reached the top voted option:

Winner: Dancing

“Ooooh so chat wants us to have our first dance together as our date~ It’s a little early for that but I’m sure it’ll be good practice for the future.” He had expected an elbow in the side for the comment but Lucky continued to stare straight ahead, eyes focused solely on the results.

“Anyway, we’ll be back in an hour and have everything set up for you then. So as a little bonus for being such a good audience, I would like you to choose the song. Remember to choose something appropriate that fits my little rabbit the best. I’ll let you in on a little secret to help you choose, my little superstar actually has some moves. Let's see if we can get him a tune he can show off to~” Now that got Lucky to rip his gaze away to look up at the host, alarm in his eyes as he processed what they had said.

“W-wait how… how do you know-” Holding a gloved finger up to his lips, Frankie hushed them softly.

“So we’ll see you in a little bit and get voting!” With that the feed cut off as the drones returned to Frankie, the chat feed still displaying as they debated about what song they should choose. Meanwhile, Lucky just stood there before violently ripping himself away from the creature, his eyes filled with fear as he stumbled back.

“How? How did you know that?!” Feigning ignorance Frankie just cocked his head to the side, like a confused pet who couldn’t understand their owner's request.

“Know what, Lucky~?”

“You know damn well what I mean you bastard! Did… did you rig the vote?!” Frankie couldn’t keep the innocent act up as he suddenly cackled and gave his contestant a cruel grin.

“You didn’t think I wouldn’t know everything about you did you? A show like this means we have to run background checks on all contestants. Very thorough background checks. I know everything about you my Lucky. Where you lived, where you worked, where you went to school… who your parents were.” The last part made the man bristle up like an angry cat but the fear in his eyes reassured Frankie that he wasn’t going to lash out like last time.

“Your father was a dance teacher and in turn, when you were younger, he taught you too. Of course you never pursued a career in it, glad you didn’t by the way or you’d never have ended up here, but I am aware you did win some awards in your younger years. I just wanted to put those skills of yours to use is all~” As he talked, his voice dropping once more, he made his way over to Lucky who could only cower away like a little rabbit, fear gripping him like it never had before. He looked so small and fragile now as Fankie casted him in his shadow. So unlike him.

“Don’t act scared Lucky, I won’t do anything. All we’re going to do is dance and that’ll be it. Just a normal first date~” Frankie was sure that would have been the end of it, until something ignited in his little rabbit's eyes and without a chance to react they reared their head back and slammed it into his causing him to yelp this time as their forehead connected with his nose. Stumbling back in shock he clutched his face as Lucky held his ground, glowering at him, a small trickle of blood leaking from the crack in their mask. The rabbit remained silent for a moment, processing what had just happened before his smile grew wide.

“Now that’s more like it Lucky~! That’s what I want! I hope you bring that passion to our dance! I can barely stand the wait now~!” This was the contestant he wanted. The one who had braved the show, who beat all the odds and even him in the end. The one who even when terrified held his own and refused to back down. His golden goose, his little rabbit, his “Lucky” contestant. His everything.

After being coerced into finally letting the rabbit treat his wounds (who knew headbutting something mostly comprised of metal would do more damage to them than the rabbit), Lucky now sat sulking on the side of his bed, nursing his bandaged head. He was still pissed off at Frankie given that whenever he looked at him the man just shot him a sour look but it didn’t seem there’d be any more violent outburst for the day. Hopefully.

“So seeing as this is an important stream, I acquired you some new clothing as while stylish and practical that suit isn’t going to cut it. You have to dress up for a date after all~” The man just rolled his eyes and pouted but Frankie was sure he was somewhat eager to see the new threads he got, seeing as the suits are all he’d worn for the last few months. Something different would make a nice change and probably keep him well behaved. Picking up the package he’s brought back with him as he’d gotten the first aid kit he handed it over, the other man taking it cautiously. After inspecting it he quickly began to tear through the wrapping before pulling out the suit jacket, shirt and pants that had been inside.

“Oh wow. I’ve never had something this nice before.”

“I suppose not but you deserve something nice for our date. Plus it was in the budget so I coughed up a bit more. I want you looking your best for your fans.” Rolling his eyes he gently laid the suit down on his bed, treating it with the utmost care as the rabbit just smirked watching him. It might be the first time the man’s worn a suit before in his life bar for interviews, but it did tickle him to see that even though it was a gift from Frankie, he still treated it so gently.

“Well gone on, try it on. It should fit given as I had it made for you using your measurements. I need to make sure you’ll look presentable.”

“R-right, right- wait, how do you know my measurements? Oh you know what, never mind. I don’t think I want to know right now.” Groaning he went for the zipper only to hesitate as Frankie continued to watch him showing no signs of leaving.

“Frankie, I’m not changing with you watching.”

“You’ve done it before during the first time you were here. It’s not like I haven’t seen it all before.”

“Frankie get the fuck out before I headbutt you a second time.” The rabbit could only giggle, heading out to give his little rabbit some privacy. Such a shy little thing.

After a few minutes, Lucky finally stepped out. He seemed almost shy as he opened the door, presenting himself to Frankie, like a child trying something on for their parents to gauge their approval. Frankie’s eyes lit up immediately as he came over to inspect his contestant, circling around them as he checked it all fitted correctly.

“Well look at you, someone does clean up well don’t they~”

“Shut up. I feel stupid.”

“Well you don’t look it. Someone might even say you look handsome or is the word hot nowadays~” Grimacing beneath the mask, Lucky shooed the rabbit away as he chuckled to himself.

“Please never say that again. Honestly though, do I look okay? I don’t want to embarrass myself more than I already have today.” Taking a step back, Frankie ran his eyes over the man as he twirled around on the spot for him. He could certainly turn a few heads in this get up, good thing Frankie was the only one around to admire him.

“You look good Lucky, I’m being honest. You know I wouldn’t lie to you without reason.” Humming the man patted the front of the suit before nodding.

“Okay, if you say so. Shall we get this over with then.”

“Lucky, remember what you promised. You need to play along and act like you’re having a good time. So wipe that sour look off your face. I’ve also thought of the perfect place that can act as our dance hall for the evening!” Offering up his arm to his date, Frankie beckoned the man and with a groan he obediently took it, allowing himself to be led into the unknown.

Frankie hadn’t been lying when he had said he’d thought of the perfect place to turn into a dance floor. Considering most of the facility was covered in parkour equipment (or bodies) there had been only one clear choice, Hexa-Havoc. Dropping down into the arena, Frankie let Lucky down as the man inspected the area, a nervous look in their eyes. He hadn’t been here since he’d won and from the way he’d started to pick at his jacket, it didn’t seem he was particularly pleased.

“This was your idea? How are we supposed to do this on a floor that’s constantly falling?” Frankie just shook his head as he went over to a hidden control panel in the wall, starting to fiddle with the settings.

“The floor only starts to fall when the game’s started up, I’m not going to do that so I assure you it’s stable. Don’t trust me, run around and check it for yourself.” Finally getting the right settings down, he slammed it closed and made his way over to his date for tonight, the man turning to meet his gaze.

“You ready?”

“It’s not like I have a choice. But to warn you in advance it’s been awhile since I’ve you know…” Frankie dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, besides I’ll be leading so you’ll have nothing to worry about. Just follow my instructions like you always do and we’ll have our viewers melting in our hands in no time.” Speaking of viewers, it was time. Clicking his fingers like last time, the drones suddenly descended from the darkness above before the screens lit up, chat suddenly coming to life as the feed started up once more. Seemed they’d been anxiously waiting for the return of their favourite couple and seeing as one had undergone a drastic costume change since they were more than eager now. The screens filled with excited messages at the sight of their winner and how good he’d look on the rabbit’s arm.

“Welcome back dear viewers! I see you’ve been craving our return but as promised here we are, back to entertain you once more with a very special bonus so lovingly picked by you, our viewers. Now without further ado, let us get this date underway and be kind to your sweet contestant, he’s a little shy. It’s our first date after all and I want it to be memorable~” Frankie couldn’t help but look over at his golden goose as he spoke, the man tutting and averting his eyes, but the embarrassment was clear. “Now let’s get down to business and see what song was chosen, it’ll be a surprise to all of us so let’s hope it was a good one.” Spinning on his heel, Frankie made his way over to Lucky and with all the charm of a fine gentleman bowed and offered up his hand to his date.

“Now then, may I have this dance my little rabbit~”

The lights in the room suddenly dimmed, the flooring changing from the technicoloured patchwork of colours to a soft blue, coating them and everything in the light. Lucky hesitated , his hand floating between them both before music suddenly started up from the unseen speakers that surrounded them.

Open the curtains

Lights on

Don't miss a moment

Of this experiment

Oh, the book is strange

Like clockwork orange

Keep your eyes buttered till the end.

Snatching his hand, Frankie pulled him close to his chest, Lucky instinctively grabbing at his shoulder with his free hand. Throwing him a dirty look, Frankie could only smirk as he slipped a hand around his contestant’s waist and started to lead their dance. Of course Lucky was slow off the mark, fumbling slightly with his steps, trying to keep up with the rabbit best he could. Pressing him closer Frankie took charge and soon they were matching one another perfectly, as if they’d choreographed this from the beginning.

Cut it off, cut down your loss

All that stubborn loyalty is gonna get you killed

In a world built on convenient theories

For the puppets on TV

There is comfort in the strings

If you're gonna control me

At least make it interesting theatrically

Frankie led his contestant around the floor, spinning and swinging him around with ease. Locking eyes with one another, the rabbit was surprised to see Lucky smirk before he spun himself into his arms, his back to his chest. Taken aback the rabbit could only freeze up, now this was a side he hadn’t seen before. But it was only a momentary lapse, Frankie letting out a purr as he slipped his hands back around his little rabbit.

“Keep up, Frankie.”

“Oh, I will don’t worry~”

Down, down, and down I go

I tell myself I'm a tough girl

Down, down, and down I go

I could never, ever, ever touch the soil

Slipping away, the drones turned their attention to Lucky as he took centre stage. He was getting into it now as he showed off just what he was capable of. He was so controlled in his movements, moving between each action almost without having to think. He made it look effortless. Frankie could only watch as his little rabbit became the highlight of the show, just like he had last time. His superstar was at it again.

My heart goes right

My head goes left

And end up on your bed

Huh

Coming up behind him, Frankie snaked an arm around him, wriggling an eyebrow at the last line which earned him an eye roll. Worth a try. Taking his hand once more, they continued their dance across the floor, so in sync it must be a sight to behold for the viewers. Not that Frankie was really paying attention to them. He’d see the takings at the end, right now his Lucky had his undivided attention.

Sure I'll be your marionette

Here, tug on my thread

Spread me open for dolly pink, snow white artificial beauty

Maybe we're all cold machines

Stuffed in the human skin

With human sins

Sewed up by the gods of city

“Hold on.” Frankie’s voice surprised Lucky who only just managed to wrap his arms around the rabbit in time as he extended to his actual height, easily lifting the man off the floor as he swung him around. He could hear the other man cursing him out as he refused to put him back down, but he didn’t seem to be too mad, given how he heard him a small snort of laughter slip out.

Cut it out, you've already lost

All that precious bravery is gonna get you hurt

In a world that feeds on the minority

May that self-centred belief lead you to peace

If you're gonna replace me

At least have the audacity to kill me thoroughly

As Frankie lowered him down, Lucky hesitated as he caught the last couple of lines. Locking eyes, Frankie could see the words hitting a little too close to home, his money maker starting to remember where he was, what he’d gotten himself into. Quickly sweeping in he took his hand, continuing their dance. This little game of theirs was his and his alone to control and it would only end when he decided it was time.

You gave me strength

Hopeful curiosity

Maybe there are still happy answers left for my discovery

What's the colour of the electric sheep you see?

And if you love me

Can you love your everything too, for me?

Coming to the end of their dance, Frankie pulled the contestant closer to himself as their movements began to slow before he finally dipped them as the music faded out. Leaving them alone with the sound of Lucky’s heavy breathing and his heart hammering away in his chest. He could feel their hands trembling slightly as they held onto his neck for support, realisation about their situation truly coming into clarity for the first time as the monster and man faced one another. Frankie let out a soft growl as he gently lifted Lucky’s chin, forcing them to crane their neck up so they were practically touching now.

“What do you think we are now, Lucky? A prisoner and their warden? Business partners? Lovers?”

“There is nothing here but vitriolic flirting.” Frankie could only chuckle at his answer, he wouldn’t expect less from the first winner of the show. Truly there was no one else like them. Leaning up he placed a “kiss” against their masked forehead.

“I’d be hurt, but you seem to know me too well my little rabbit~ I wouldn’t want it any other way. So let’s continue this dance until the end, I promise you I’ll be the one to end it. No one else deserves that honour except me.”

“...I know, I wouldn’t expect anything less.” His voice was so small as he spoke, almost sad knowing how he would meet his end. Some would have found comfort in the fact that it wouldn’t be the other Frankie but he could be just as bad if he wanted to be.

Releasing his chin Frankie trailed his hand down Lucky’s neck before suddenly tightening his grip around it, not enough to do anything, just enough to make his point. He felt the man swallow nervously beneath his hand but he didn’t break eye contact, holding his own once more.

“You know, when the time comes around I promise I’ll make you a spectacle. Your end will be deserving of all that you’ve done for me and the show. It’ll be unlike anything we’ve ever seen before!” Frankie was getting worked up just thinking how’d he do it. It had to be spectacular and go down in history, but he still had plenty of time to figure out the details. He wasn’t in a rush to get rid of his cash cow just yet.

“How considerate of you, but remember Frankie, you’ll still have to catch me first. And I’m not going to let it happen again.” Frankie barely had time to register the sucker punch that was swung at him, only just managing to block it, releasing Lucky’s neck in the process. The rabbit couldn’t say he was surprised by the action but still a little shocked at how close his little rabbit had gotten to landing another hit on him so soon. Such tenacity.

“Oh, keep this up and I might have to punish you~” Lucky just shook his head before releasing his grip on the rabbit’s neck, letting himself go limp and slipping out of their grip.

“I assure you being here with you is enough punishment but if you do, don’t get it from those guys. You should see what they’ve been saying...” He motioned to the screen behind him, Frankie finally acknowledging his viewers as he glanced at the chat. Oh, oh yeah they were losing their minds once more and with the filter removed they were being a little bit more descriptive and graphic then previously. It seemed the dance and their little interaction afterwards had gotten them into a frenzy. Demanding more and for Frankie to take things further, but they’d have to wait till next time. Frankie wasn’t going to get anything more out of Lucky tonight, except maybe a kick in the teeth.

“Well chat I hope you got everything you wanted and more with this stream! Also let’s give our little superstar a round of applause, even I was surprised just at how well he could move but we’ve all seen him on the courses so we shouldn’t expect anything less. Now until next time, I hope to see you soon!” With that feed cut off, leaving Frankie and Lucky alone. His little golden goose had his back to him, lost in thought no doubt about. He’d had a busy day so Frankie would cut him some slack. Slinking over he gently nuzzled their cheek, snapping them back to reality as they shooed him away.

“How about some dinner? My treat. I even have some wine so I can “wine and dine” you properly.” Lucky still seemed a little distracted but quickly shook his head clearing his thoughts. Not wanting to dwell too much on the rabbit’s promise any longer.

“Yeah alright, I could definitely go for a drink right about now. So what do you have in mind for food?”

“Well we could always try making something togethe-”

“Hell no you stupid rabbit! I’ve already had a stressful enough day as it is, don’t joke about something like that! You just cook me something seeing as this is all your doing. I deserve to take it easy for once.” Frankie could only laugh as Lucky put his foot down, the man pouting at him from behind his mask.

“So demanding, alright I’ll see what I can do. And I’m going to count this as our second date you realise. So will I be coming home with you after this?”

“You’re lucky I don’t turn hexa-havoc back on and see how long you can survive it.” Snortin Frankie held out an arm letting Lucky (begrudgingly) to climb on as the rabbit began to scale his way back out of the stage. Overall Frankie had to say that everything had gone better than he could have expected, he couldn’t wait to see the taking from today~ It had to have been their best show to date! Looking down at Lucky, clutched in his arm, he couldn’t help but smirk. He couldn’t wait to see what his “Lucky” contestant would do when the time came for their final show. Frankie knew he wouldn’t disappoint him regardless of what the outcome would be. That’s just who he was. His contestant, his everything.

#my writing #finding frankie #real frankie #rabbitroyale

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moody-alcoholic · 2 days ago

Text

Bonfire Night

Summary: Ghoap x f!reader established relationship, WC: 6k. All sorts of fireworks going off tonight ;) This is purely self-indulgent, bonfire night shenanigans.

CW: +18 content MDNI. Fireworks, PTSD, mentions of bombs, mentions of injures, description of injures, hurt/comfort, sex, fingering, PiV sex, shower sex, oral (M&F receiving), threesome, overuse of the word cock, reader can’t cook, not proof read/first draft.

AN: This one really got away from me so yeah...

Resources: Help for Heroes Combat Stress

The Missing Piece - Masterlist AO3 Stay safe and enjoy <3

“So what are we doing tomorrow?” You ask sitting down on the sofa between Simon and Johnny. They look confused, you look up at Johnny who’s eyes dart to Simon.

“Tomorrow is..?”

“Bonfire night,” you say, frowning at them. Johnny smiles.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in the UK for bonfire night.” He says.

“Not even as a kid?”

“Scottish.” He says as a matter of fact, pointing at himself.

“King James was Scottish.” You tease, leaning back.

“What do you want to do?” Simon asks.

“I don’t know, when I was a kid it was hot-dogs and jacket potatoes while watching fireworks in the garden.”

“One year instead of burning a Guy Fawkes effigy's me and Chloe made stick figures of our exes and burned them.”

“Then did you dance around the fire and chant curses?” Johnny teases. You kick him and he grabs your feet pulling your legs onto his thighs.

“Well we’ll probably be able to see plenty of fireworks from the balcony.” Simon says.

“Or we can see if there are any bonfires nearby?” Johnny asks. You lean against Simon as he wraps his arm round you.

“A nice night in sounds good, I’m not working. I don’t mind cooking.” You offer.

“Hot-dogs and jacket potatoes?” Johnny asks raising an eyebrow.

“With so many caramelised onions you’ll have a heart attack.” You say smiling.

“Sounds like fun.” Johnny says stroking your leg. You hum smiling at him leaning against Simon’s chest as you turn your head to watch the TV.

—----------—

You’re cooking for the first time in what feels like forever. It’s simple food, jacket potatoes and hot-dogs. The potato part is easy, stab them, wrap them and chuck them in the oven. For some reason though the caramelised onions are kicking your ass.

“I can help if you want?” Johnny asks from the table. You look up at him over the second pot you’ve used today. The other one is soaking in the sink with a layer of burnt onions in the bottom.

“I’m fine. I know what I’m doing.” You huff, looking back down at the onions as you put more butter in the pan. You hear Johnny chuckle as Simon comes into the doorway of the kitchen.

“Need a hand?” He asks, you look over at him frowning.

“I said I could do it.” You snap, he holds his hands up going down the step and over to Johnny.

“Quick Si, she might throw a plate at you or something.” Johnny teases. Simon goes behind him wrapping his arms around his chest as Johnny tips his head. You frown at them, digging your eyes into Johnny. He just smiles, the cheeky grin he always has on his face. For some reason it irritates you and you pick up your glass of wine taking a sip.

“Why don’t you both go and watch the fireworks until I’ve finished.” You say trying to hide the irritation in your voice. You can tell from Johnny’s giggle you’re not doing well. Simon nods though patting Johnny on the shoulder before turning to head for the balcony door.

“Good idea, c’mon Johnny.” Simon says opening the door. Johnny smiles following him out. The sky is being lit up with all different colours as fireworks explode over London. In the distance larger public displays dominate the skyline.

Simon leads Johnny over to the outdoor sofa as he picks up one of the blankets and throws it over them both. Johnny leans against Simon his eyes fixed on the sky, Simon hums leaning back throwing his arm over Johnny’s shoulder.

There is no break in the pops and bangs across the sky, the smell of gunpowder is strong in the air, Simon can see other people watching from balcony's. Some of the explosions are louder then others sounding like they’re exploding right above them as shades of red light up the area.

A particularly loud set of large fireworks go off just on the other side of the Thames. Simon watches them in awe.

“Did you see that Johnny?” Simon asks nudging him, Johnny’s head turns slightly but he doesn’t say anything. No chipper remark or witty comeback.

“Johnny?” Simon looks over at him his eyes wide, his body stiff, his knuckles white as he grips the blanket.

“Soap?” Simon calls in a slightly harsher tone. Johnny’s head flicks to look at him almost instantly.

“Fireworks are just colourful bombs ya know.” He says, Simon can see the distant look in his eyes. He straightens up picking Johnny’s hand up.

“They call gunpowder lift powder in fireworks factories.” He continues, there’s a shakiness in his voice. Simon smiles squeezing his hand.

“Yeah? What else Johnny?” Simon encourages him, turning in so he can pull him further up his chest.

“Well I learnt that from a guy I trained with. He used to work in a fireworks factory before joining the army.”

“Pretty bombs huh.” Simon says squeezing his hand again looking out as more fireworks pop across the sky.

“Yeah, not very convenient as bombs though. I mean could you imagine selling anything that powerful to civilians.” Johnny chuckles.

“Yeah, it would be chaos.” Simon replies. Fireworks explode closer to the apartment building, each one makes Johnny tense.

“‘Member that training exercise we did once. The one where they filled the fake bombs with smoke?” Simon says pulling Johnny’s hand to his lips and kissing it.

“Yeah, I always forget how much that shite stings your eyes.” Johnny smiles looking over at Simon.

“Remember Gaz, dropping his gas mask and having to drag him out?”

“I remember him throwing his guts up.” Johnny chuckles, Simon smiles. Another explosion very close by. Simon watches Johnny's smile fade and his eyes widen. His grip on Simon’s hand tightens.

“C’mon let’s go inside.” Simon says brushing his hand with his thumb. Johnny sighs.

“I’m fine.” He insists. Simon kisses his hand again.

“Give me another fact.” Simon says smiling.

“Did you know fireworks where created by accident?” Johnny says turning to look out the balcony. He scoots closer to Simon who can feel Johnny's heart pounding in his chest.

“Oh yeah?” Simon says pulling him closer and kissing him on the top of his head. He watches as colourful explosions fill the sky.

Smoke is swirling in the air like a thick fog. Simon hears some kids shouting, screaming as the sound of rockets shoot through the air. He cranes his head over the balcony to watch them dodging rockets they’re shooting at each other. He lets out a sigh leaning back as Johnny strokes his hand.

The door opens and you step out.

“Hey, foods ready.” You say watching as Johnny shoots up throwing his arm round you as you take him to the kitchen.

“Smells good lass, so you won the fight with the onions?” He says looking at all the toppings you have laid out. In the kitchen, with the cooked potatoes and hot-dogs in buns.

Johnny takes his time to complement everything you’ve made ignoring the mess you’ve created in the kitchen. You promise him you’ll clean it up later. He nudges you telling you not to bother.

You all sit on the sofa, watching TV while you eat. It’s a Saturday night which means the TV is dominated with game shows and talent shows which Johnny and Simon spend no time giving their opinions on.

You’re tired from all the cooking and after you finish your food you curl up on the sofa with your head in Simon’s lap while Johnny is sat on the floor between Simon's legs rubbing his belly. He must have eaten at least 4 jacket potatoes, mounted with cheese and beans.

“That was amazing.” Johnny says reaching over for his beer. Simon chuckles his hand running down your back. It’s nice, your belly is full and you're feeling sleeping, looking out the windows to see the different colours still lighting up the sky.

“It was very lovely.” Simon says. You turn so you’re laid on your back your head resting on his thigh. He looks down smiling at you as one of his hands comes up to stroke your hair. You hum as his fingers massage your scalp.

“Thank you, I’m glad I finally won the fight with the onions.” You say. Simon chuckles looking down at you, his eyes glaze over, there’s a twinkle there though and you smile back at him. It’s nice his other hand coming up to map out your face, his thumb brushing over your lips. It makes a burn rise in your core. You did a good job and you made them happy, that makes you happy.

“You did good.” Simon smiles looking down at you. You close your eyes humming as Simon’s hand lazily travels down your body to your waist. His thumb dips below your waistband. His hands are warm, making goosebumps rise on your soft skin.

You turn your head back to the TV while Johnny tips his head back leaning against the sofa. Simon’s free hand runs through Johnny’s hair, running his fingers up and down his mohawk. You listen to

Johnny talk about what's happening on the TV, a talent show or something. Simon’s hand runs across your stomach, up to your chest, his fingers brushing over your nipples, the feeling is jarring it makes you gasp and your head looks up at him. He smiles looking back down at you.

His eyes still have that cheeky glint. Your breathing picks up he doesn’t stop, pinching them between his thumb and finger. You try not to squirm, you don’t want Johnny to feel left out, at least it feels like he doesn’t care for right now.

You swallow hard, your body warm and relaxed his hand working it’s way down from your breast back to your waist. Your hand stops him and you shake your head. He looks at you confused as you tip your head towards Johnny.

Simon laughs and it makes Johnny turn round, your head snaps at him your mouth hanging open your cheeks flushed red with Simon’s hand halfway in your pants. Johnny takes in the scene smiling before leaning forward and pressing his lips onto yours.

You close your eyes letting him play with your tongue, you can taste the salt on his lips. You’re enjoying this, Simon’s hand works down into your PJ bottoms his fingers pushing through your folds to press against your clit. It makes you moan into Johnny’s mouth. He pulls away getting up onto his knees.

“Christ, Si you desperate or something?” He says moving from between Simon’s legs to the end of the sofa. You’re not sure what he want’s to do but he looks at Simon and they do that thing where it’s like they’re mentally communicating. Simon shuffles and you sit up his hand leaving your pants you suddenly feel empty. Johnny giggles hooking his hands under your knees and pulling you to the edge of the sofa.

“Johnny you were full.” You say but honestly you don’t really care, you just want to feel someone's hands on you. Johnny seems to understand gripping the waistband of your bottoms pulling them off with your underwear in on quick action.

Now you’re definitely sure you know what he wants. You spread your legs for him, Simon turns to face you gripping the hem of your shirt and you raise your arms letting him pull your shirt off. You let them move around your body as Johnny buries his head between your thighs and Simon locks his lips onto a nipple.

All of a sudden your whole body is tingling, goosebumps rising all over your skin as your hand lands on Simon’s head. It’s like their working in sync, each lick of their tongues making you moan.

You can’t tell which feels better and you don’t care, it all feels good. “Is this your way of saying thank you?” You ask, your breathing picking up. Simon pulls off your nipple chucking, he hums moving his mouth to your lips. His hand coming up to cup your breast. The kiss becoming sloppy as you try to focus on one thing at a time, as your breathing turns into panting.

Johnny’s speed increases. Simon looks down at him running his hand through his mohawk. His eyes look up but his mouth doesn’t move, his shiny blue eyes, he’s moaning on you sending vibrations though your core.

“Good boy Johnny, you gonna make her feel good?” Simon says his voice low humming in his throat as he grips Johnny’s hair keeping him in place. The frantic sucking and licking you’d been enjoying stops.

Johnny nods and Simon loosens his grip on his hair and he goes back to running his tongue over your clit. It’s deep and long strokes, you don’t even realise Simon has gone back to your nipples until he nibbles on them making you gasp.

You’re getting close your hand gripping Simon’s hair again. “Johnny.” You cry, your legs squeezing round his head. Johnny chuckles, the vibrations push you over the edge. You cry out cumming as Simon and Johnny ride you through the orgasm, there mouths not leaving you until you chuckle letting go of Simon’s hair as you try to normalise your breathing.

“Holy crap.” You breathe as Simon and Johnny pull off of you. They look up at you smiling. “Definitely a good way to say thank you.”

“Any excuse for Johnny give you a good time.” Simon says laying back on the sofa next to you. You look over at him palming his cock bulging in his pants. You smile at him pulling your legs onto the sofa, you get on your hands and knees crawling over to Simon.

He can tell what you want as he leans back further on the sofa letting you reach down into his sweat pants pulling him out. You hear Johnny sigh as he runs his hand up your thighs. You smile at Simon pressing your thumb over the tip of his cock, he’s already wet with precum as you bring your lips down letting your tongue circle round the head before thrusting your mouth down.

You feel Johnny stand up but he keeps his hands on you. Then he climbs on the sofa behind you. His hand running down your hips squeezing your ass his thumbs spreading you apart.

You’re too busy preoccupied with Simon not paying attention to Johnny, just enjoying the feel of his hands on your body. The next thing you know his cock is pressed against your entrance. You’re moaning around Simon’s cock, forcing yourself to take him all the way with each thrust.

Johnny presses into you and you pull your mouth off Simon moaning as you feel Johnny stretching you out. You tip your head letting your hand pleasure Simon, you look up at him as Johnny lets out a moan before thrusting himself all the way into you.

“Christ Johnny,” you breathe as his hands grip your waist bouncing you on his cock. Simon’s hand reaches down to your clit which makes you clench around Johnny. Your mouth waters as you replace your hand on Simon with your mouth again.

He hums, his fingers knocking against your clit with each buck of your hips. You’re focusing on Simon, taking him all the way, or at least as far as you can. He doesn’t seem to mind though his moans sending shivers down your spine.

You’re propped up on one arm with the other hand wrapped round the base of Simon’s cock. Johnny’s breathing picks up and his moans become more frequent, his hips drive into you harder his cock rubbing past your g-spot with each thrust. It makes you speed up your strokes on Simon, pressing your thumb into the underside of his shaft.

“Easy Johnny.” Simon says his free hand resting on the back of your head forcing you to slow down.

“Sorry Si, she feels so good.” He grunts, his hands moving up from your hips to your back. He runs his hands to your shoulders squeezing them before speeding his pace up again. You moan round Simon’s cock which causes him to squeeze your hair again, letting out a moan as his head tips back.

You’re going to cum, Simon's fingers on your clit and Johnny’s relentless pounding is too much. You clench round Johnny as he slows his thrusts, almost pulling all the way out before pressing back into you.

“You gonna cum love?” Johnny asks between breaths. Simon pushes your head all the way down on his cock and you gag your mouth filling with saliva.

“Mm-humm,” you moan as Simon lets go of your hair, giving you full control to move your head how you want. You’re chasing your own orgasm as Simon’s fingers press faster on your clit. You’re not going to last longer. You clench round Johnny thrusting your mouth all the way down choking on Simon as you cum.

“Christ love-” Johnny cums too, Simon’s speed on your clit doesn’t slow as Johnny throbs inside you. His hands running up and down your back as you shiver. You pull your mouth off Simon looking up at him smiling.

As Johnny pulls out you sit back on your knees as he wraps his arms round you squeezing you. You watch as Simon strokes himself and you break away from Johnny straddling over Simon. You reach down gripping his cock and guiding it into you.

Simon sighs his eyes glazing over, as you bounce on his his hands coming down to squeeze your ass. You lean forward pressing your forehead against his looking into his eyes. He lets you control the speed as you take it slower. Then your phone starts ringing. You look over at Johnny who picks it up. You groan when you see the name Amy on the screen. Its work. You sigh looking over at Simon.

“Need to take it?” He asks.

“It’s work, they probably want me to come in.” You sigh dropping your head and stopping your movement. Now you’re just sat there with his cock inside you. The call ends and you wait a few seconds before it rings again immediately.

“Crap.” You say letting frustration slip though.

“I thought you weren't on call.” Johnny asks as he hands you your phone

“I’m not but it’s A&E on bonfire night, and it’s the weekend.”

“Hey Amy.” You say answering it. Simon smiles at you, there’s a twinkle in his eye as he hums gripping your hips.

“Hey, can you come in and help, we’re 4 short.” She says, you sigh but Simon starts thrusting his hips in you causes your words to catch in your throat. Johnny chuckles, his hands landing on your shoulders squeezing them.

“I’m kind of in the middle of something, is there no one else?” You ask, as Johnny’s hands work their way round to your nipples.

“I’ve tried everyone, most people have hit their overtime already.” She explains you can hear the desperation in her voice. You have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from crying out. You pull the phone a way from your ear pressing it against your chest.

“Simon-” you say quietly, he shushes you pressing a finger up to your lips. It feels good you can’t focus on the call tipping you head back and letting out a moan as Simon drives into you harder. Johnny's still playing with your nipples as one of Simon’s hands moves to your abdomen his thumb pressing on your clit.

You almost forget about the call, maybe this is their plan to fuck you so good you can’t work. You snap back to reality bringing the phone back up to your ear.

“What time?” You ask her hoping she can’t hear the slur in your voice and the wet sounds of sex echoing through the flat.

“Now, until 8am?” She says, you hear another phone ringing in the back ground, and an alarm. You’re too blissed out to care.

“I’ll come,” you breathe down the phone clenching round Simon to stop yourself from actually coming.

“Thank you so much, you’re amazing honestly, we could really use your expertise-” You hum hanging the phone up and throwing it on the sofa as you fall back against Johnny who holds you while you cum, Simon throbs inside you. His fingers pressing into your skin.

“You going to work?” Johnny asks. You nod enjoying the feeling of his hands on you as you come down from the high. You open your eyes looking at Simon who pulls you against his chest kissing your neck. You hum enjoying the feeling before sighing and sitting up.

“I’m sorry, It’s going to be 12 hours of blast and burn injures. They really could use my help.” You step up off Simon's lap, you can feel their cum dripping down your inner thighs as you walk over to the bathroom to clean yourself up. You really wish you didn’t have to go to work, maybe you could said you were drunk or something. You leave the bathroom heading into the bedroom as Johnny follows you in.

“How long will you be gone for?”

“Hopefully I can get off as early as possible. 12 hours max.” You sigh pulling on some underwear and a bra.

“Okay, let me drive you at least?” Simon says coming over to the bedroom as you pull your uniform on. You nod.

—----------—

You let out a sigh as you walk through the front door, the sun is up now turning the sky pink and red. You need a shower you’ve spent way too much time covered in blood and burnt flesh for a lifetime.

It almost reminded you of some of the hospitals you’ve worked at in war zones, people waking around with limbs barely hanging on. The burns are the worst, you can deal with the blood but the smell of burning flesh and muscle is something you think you’ll never quite get used to.

“Hey.” Simon calls behind you as you’re emptying your pockets. You pulled an unused tourniquet out and what seems like half a wards worth of pens and tape. You let out a sigh putting them down next to your keys.

“Rough night?” He asks, you finally look up at him and nod.

“First time I felt like I was back on deployment. Screaming ward sisters have nothing on angry generals though.” You smile. He comes over to you wrapping his arm round your waist and pulling you up to his lips.

The kiss is soft and gentle something you needed after such a long night. You forget the fact you stink, you let the horrors of the shift wash off you as he pulls you up against him. You kiss him back almost needy, you needed this. He pulls away first his hand coming to brush your cheek.

“Shower? Then you can tell me all about how horrible the shift was.” You smile at him and kiss him back quickly.

“Where’s Johnny?”

“He had a bit of a rough night. Turns out fireworks so close to home, not really his cup of tea.”

“Shit, you should have called me. I could have come home, said it was a family emergency.” Simon chuckles.

“Thought you would be having fun arms deep in blown off limbs.” He says wrapping his arm round your shoulder following you to the bathroom. You chuckle as you open the bathroom door.

“Join me?” You invite him raising an eyebrow. He doesn’t hesitate following you into the room as you go to turn the shower on.

“Let me.” He insists almost bullying you out the way so he can mess with the water. You let him stripping your clothes before coming up behind him running your hands up his shirt. He turns, a smile growing on his face as he sees you naked his hands coming up to your breasts. You hum as he brushes his fingers over your nipples.

You pull on the hem of his shirt, you want to take it off. He gets the idea stepping back and pulling his cloths off as you step into the shower. It’s hotter then you’re used to but you don’t mind it’s nice to get the grit out your hair letting the water soak through to your scalp.

Simon gets in behind you his hands on your hips pulling you back against him, his hands work their way up your body. His hands are soft and slow as she maps your curves with his fingers. He’s not as needy as Johnny, he likes to take his time. Touch you all over before he starts squeezing and flicking your nipples between his fingers.

He hums into your neck as his hand travels, down your stomach his hands never leaving contact with your body. You relax against his chest as his tongue runs up your neck. His fingers press through your folds running up and down your clit. You can’t help moaning, your hips pressing further against him.

You can feel his hard cock pressing against your lower back. You turn in his arms and he presses you further into the shower. The water is hot down your back, your feet ache from being on them so long. You reach up on your tip-toes and kiss him your hand running down his chest.

You run your hand down his cock, your thumb brushing over the tip. Simon moans in your mouth before pulling away to look down at you. His thumb brushes over your lips as you continue to work your hand round him. He presses you back against the wall. His fingers are pressing up against your entrance as you rock your hips towards him. He chuckles and you grip his shoulders.

“So perfect.” He hums, pressing his lips to yours. You sink into the kiss as his tongue runs against yours. It’s hot and needy as you wiggle your hips trying to force his fingers in you. He finally relents after what feels like minutes of teasing, pushes his thick fingers into you. You break from the kiss moaning as works them deeper into you, curling them up to hit the oh-so-sweet spot.

“Simon-” You breathe clenching round his fingers as he controls the speed. His palm presses against your clit as you buck your hips up against him, his cock pressing up against your stomach.

“Feel good?” He asks his voice low almost being drowned out by the running water. You tip your head back panting as he drives you closer to the edge. The steam makes your head feel stuffy as you chase the feeling. Every time you clench around his fingers he speeds up making you gasp and moan into his neck.

“Yes, don’t stop.” You beg as you dig your nails into his shoulder. “Si-” It’s all you manage as you cum on his fingers biting your bottom lip as you moan. You don’t want to be too loud and wake Johnny.

Simon rides you through the orgasm slowly pulling his fingers out. Your using the wall to support you as your hands fall down to grip his biceps. You look up at him his hair wet pressed against his forehead, you smile at him he smiles back.

You run your hand down his chest to his cock, you wish you could suck him off but there is no way enough room in the shower. At least you would be off your aching feet though. Your thumb knocks against his tip and he twitches in your hand.

“How’s this going to work?” You ask looking up at him. He cheeky smile comes across his face.

“Let me,” he says, you frown at him before his bends down hooking his arms under your thighs pressing you up against the wall. You let out a yelp as he holds you like you weigh nothing. You wrap your legs round his back as he slowly lowers you down to the right height.

“You okay?” He asks moving one of his arms as you lock your hands round his head. Your fingers brushing through his wet hair. He nods and you feel him line himself up with your entrance. You patiently let him do what he needs to do as you hold onto him for dear life. As he slowly lowers you down on his cock it’s like it’s pressing all the air out your lungs.

“Relax,” he says moving his arm back to support you better. You don’t want to what if he slips, he’s holding you up against the wall. “C’mon, I got you, relax.” You sigh relenting and shifting your weight.

“That’s it,” he says bucking his hips up into you. You moan out as he thrusts into you. You grip his hair, twirling it round in your fingers as he grips your ass pulling you up and down on his cock. You feel so full as you clench round him, he twitches inside you causing you to dip your head into his neck.

“You feel so good,” you say pressing your lips on his neck. He hums as he bonces you up and down. You’re surprised he’s managing to hold you up as your body becomes slippy with the water. You don’t care though, he feels too good it’s making your head spin, your body relaxes into him your hands running up and down his neck, your head tipping back to hit the wall.

“Last night wasn’t enough?” You ask panting into his hair.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” He says, you chuckle moving your hands to his cheeks and pulling his lips to yours. You kiss him deep and long chasing the orgasm building inside you.

“Gonna cum.” You say between kisses.

“Yeah, cum for me. You deserve it.” He pants. You moan out calling his name as you cum your pussy spasming around him. He cums too with one final thrust pulsing inside you. Your head drops against his chest as he pulls out of you lowering you to the floor.

Your legs feel like jelly and you have to keep holding on to him. He chuckles, turning you round and letting you rest up against his chest as he presses you back under the shower.

He takes his time to wash you, picking up a scrubber and lathering your body with some kind of orange smelling soap. You let him wash you and listen to him as he tells you how good you’ve been for them. How strong you are for working a horrible 12 hour shift, you're almost falling asleep in the shower accepting the praise.

“I love you.” You say to Simon as he reaches over turning to shower off.

“I love you too.” He says bringing your chin up and kissing you.

He helps you dry even though you don’t need It your body feels heavy your limbs feeling like lead weights. You accept the help as he follows you into the bedroom so you can change into pyjamas. Johnny is still asleep snoring softly as you try to be as quiet as possible pulling on clean clothes. You pass Simon the towel, reaching up and pressing a kiss on his lips.

“Get some rest I’ll wake you up later.” He whispers smiling. You nod heading over to the bed. You pull back the covers climbing in behind Johnny, pressing your chest against his back and wrapping your arm round him. He murmurs tipping his head back as you snuggle under the duvet.

“Missed you.” He says sleepily grabbing your hand and bringing it to his lips kissing it.

“Missed you too.” You say. Laying down into the pillows. He turns round in the bed, his eyes half open as he wraps his arm round you pulling you up against him.

“How was your shift?” He asks yawning.

“Ugh, I’ll tell you later. I’m tired.” You say his yawn making you yawn too. He chuckles squeezing you tight against his chest.

“Love you Johnny,” you whisper closing your eyes.

“Love you more.” He slurs his lips pressing against the top of your head.

—----------—

“Hey love look what we got!” Johnny says enthusiastically coming over to you before you have time to react. You’re still rubbing sleep out your eyes as you walk over to him.

“Sparklers.” You smile as he thrusts the package in your hands.

“Yeah we thought since you missed the fireworks last night it would only be fair to save the sparklers for you.” He says, you look up at him smiling before wrapping your arms round him, hugging him. They didn’t have to do that. Johnny breaks away from the hug letting his hand drop to your waist pulling you over to the door.

“Hey Simon, you coming?” You ask waving the sparklers at him in the kitchen. He nods picking up a lighter off the table. Johnny’s giddy with excitement bouncing out the door onto the balcony. It’s cold and you’re only in your pyjamas.

You should have got a coat but you’re too wrapped up in Johnny’s enthusiasm. He opens the package handing you a sparkler as Simon comes out onto the balcony. He hands you a jacket and you thank him before Johnny shoves a sparkler in his face.

You pull the jacket on then hold the sparkler out so Simon can light it. You almost immediately start making circles in the air. You smile letting a chuckle come out spelling out your name in the air. You look over at Johnny who looks like he’s drawing spirals in the air.

You feel a warmth bubble inside you. It makes you think back to your childhood. Funny how such a simple activity can invoke such strong feelings of nostalgia. Simon lights his last moving away from Johnny. You take another step back.

“Hey, lass.” Johnny calls, you look over at him as he draws a heart in the air. You chuckle copying him. Simon rolls his eyes, holding his out making swirls in the air. You watch as Johnny enthusiastically makes shapes, you smile leaning up against Simon. Fireworks are still going off sporadically but Johnny seems completely distracted.

“I feel like Harry Potter.” He says at one point waving it around like its a wand. You laugh at him, Simon rolls his eyes. It’s nice being out here with them, you turn to look over the wall at the firworks flying across the sky.

“Woah look at that one!” You call pointing with your sparkler. You turn to look at Simon and Johnny smiling back at you. Johnny’s sparkler dies out and he huffs throwing it on the floor.

“Hey, maybe next year we can set our own off?” You smile.

“I can make them!” Johnny shouts enthusiastically, looking at Simon who looks between you both.

“That would be awesome, we can pick our own colours, we’ll have the best fireworks show in the area.” You say matching his enthusiasm throwing your spent sparkler on the floor and jumping into his arms.

“I don’t know if that’s strictly legal.” Simon says.

“You’re such a buzzkill LT.”

“Yeah Simon, Johnny would make the best fireworks.” You chuckle.

“Maybe, we can talk about it next year.” Simon says throwing his sparkler down. You smile at him letting Johnny throw his arm around you, pulling you against him.

“It was a good bonfire night.” You say.

“You worked a 12 hour shift.” Johnny chuckles.

“It was a good shift. Let me tell you about all the burns I treated.” You nod. Simon smiles and turns to open the door back inside.

“C’mon. It’s cold, lets order some food.” Simon says. Johnny follows in after him talking about what food he wants. You take a second to look back out at the fireworks still going off. It has been a good bonfire night, you smile and head inside.

—----------—

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slightlyunconventional · 2 days ago

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hi! i received an ask about making a snz prompts list, and it seemed like a cool idea so im gonna do it !!

slightlyunconventional’s prompt list debut 🪻

(these won’t have any particular theme or anything, just some nice prompts/scenarios that i myself enjoy writing so you might too :3 feel free to use these and i would love to see if anyone writes anything)

☀️ a character waking up to the sun streaming in through their window and having a photic reaction

❓ a character finding out for the first time that they’re allergic to something (their first time encountering a certain animal/flower etc)

🥂 character(s) going to a formal event and everywhere they turn there are people with expensive and strong perfumes on - one or both of the characters being sensitive to it

🔊 a character with typically soft/subdued sneezes catching a cold that turns their sneezes massively more harsh and uncontrollable

🧴 strongly scented beauty/bath products causing a character to sneeze - do they realise right away what’s triggering it, or does it take a while (or perhaps a tip from someone else)?

🫧 a character running a bath for their sick partner, then sitting beside the tub keeping them company whilst they soak - a cold bath for a high fever, or a hot bath for the chills

🌙 a character waking in the middle of the night to find the other side of the bed empty, then finding their partner having a sneezing fit in a different room having left to avoid waking the other one up

❤️‍🩹 a character encouraging their sick partner to stop stifling all their sneezes (maybe it makes them sneeze even more, maybe it worsens the pressure in their sinuses, maybe it amplifies the headache they already have)

☕️ the steam from a mug of hot tea teasing sneezes from a sick character

🔥 a character realising their partner has a fever by feeling the heat of their skin by accident - holding their face to kiss them, feeling their skin when they cuddle in bed, etc

🕰️ a character having to hold back/stifle all day (their job? anxiety/insecurity of sneezing around people? not wanting to spread their cold if they have one? your choice!) and finally getting to let loose once they’re home, sneezes tearing through them unrestrained

💫 a character with the kink inducing their partner, instructing them to hold back for as long as possible (my favourite scenario to read/write. can you tell)

💐 a character with awful hayfever going to a florist’s shop to buy flowers for their partner

🏖️ a character coming down with a cold in the middle of summer - they can’t appreciate the warm weather because they’re wracked with chills

⛓️‍💥 a character with a cold turning down all help/care they are offered, under the pretence that they’re fine on their own, until the end of the day when they end up collapsing (metaphorically or physically)

🩹 a character sneezing for whatever reason whilst they are injured (so much potential here - a broken/bloody nose that they can’t even touch to quell the itch, broken ribs that clench with a spike of pain at each outburst, an injured arm that hurts to cover or stifle with… endless possibilities)

🦋 a nonhuman/semi-human character not being used to sneezing finds they’ve come down with a cold, or developed an allergy

🍷 alcohol making a character sneeze, but they keep drinking, and as they get tipsier, their sneezes become more indulgent and unrestrained

💤 a character about to fall asleep, or who had just woken up, and their drowsiness finds its way into their sneezes

🕯️a character in the candle/perfume/etc section of a store, sniffing each one whilst their partner (who insisted on coming along) sneezes helplessly beside them, assuring them it isn’t the candles/perfume/etc when it most certainly is

i’ve never done a post like this before, so i hope these were okay! if anyone uses any of these i would love to read what you write, too! i also added a different emoji for each one incase anyone wanted to use it as an ask game

#hope these are good lol #if anyone has any feedback pls provide it cause im nervous about this post for no reason lmao #maybe i’ll do another one of these at some point if people like this too idk #snz #snzblr #snz kink #snz blog #snzario #snz prompts

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magicomens · 2 days ago

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Hello, how are you :)?

Mh, I just wanted to let you know that I loved your comic, and that it gave me a sense of inner peace and tranquility that I haven’t felt in a while.

Do you know when your life is constantly stressful, and then your days go bad on top of it all, but strangely, you make some time for yourself to sit alone for a moment on whenever soft surface you find, and exhale a long sigh? I released a sigh each time I read your comic, and when I finished reading it, I had a huge smile on my face. To give some context, there has to be something really impactful for me to change the expressions on my face, and when I read the finale a second time, I still had my smile on. It calmed me down, and Merthur being lesbians, cottage girls and marrying each other was the sweetest, yet more fitting finale you could have given them, after everything they have endured, alongside Aziracrow being the supporting couple on the side, full of sweetness too. I liked this comic from start to end, and I still remember being gobsmacked that someone literally had had my idea of Arthur coming back in a new and unexplored way, and also adding another tv show that I really loved with it, mixing everything together to make an interesting comic out of it. I’ll forever be grateful that people like you exist and do this purely out of love, and because you like what you do. I hope my message will be enough to let you know that what you do is incredible.

It’s people like you who keep fandoms alive, and I’m so happy for it.

Thank you for writing an idea, for writing entertaining and deep dialogues and for drawing my dream of a silly and forever heroic Arthur coming back in this day and age, with his faithful servant and friend and the powerful warlock Merlin by his side, helping him and loving him as much as he had loved him when he first got to know him (and for fixing the tremendous finale they gave us, for which I still mourn😔 *shakes fist towards the sky* Damn you, BBC!).

A beautiful and majestic dream became reality.

I hope you had a great time working on this comic, and that you’ll be able to do more projects in the future, enjoy them as much as you enjoyed this one, and as much as I enjoyed it🤍!

I truly admired it.

Have a great day and a fulfilling life :)!

P.S.

You inspired me into drawing my ideas☺️. One day, I hope I’ll be able to write my own comic.

So thank you so much again!

Oh now you're just trying to make me cry :'D and saying I inspired you was the nail to the coffin!

I'm really glad you found some happiness while reading it, this is what makes the work worth it <3

#like personal satisfaction is still important imo #but making someone's day even just a little bit better hits different you know #anyway thank you!#asks #gdn7-dollopole #and btw I do like the show finale even if its tragic and somber!#this is what fan works are for

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callmedylan · 2 days ago

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I got bored and made a future Moomin valley AU and gave them all little happy families

So my Moomin valley fixation came back after like 5 whole years, and originally these were just meant to be one off little ship kid concepts but I grew attached to them and the idea of it and eventually it kinda evolved into a next generation AU in the span of like 3 days… Hope I’m not too late to the party chat…

I’ve been thinking up a LOT about this AU, but I’ll just give a basic run down rlly fast:

Lumi and Linna are best friends and basically take over the roles of snufkin and moomin, who are now lumis parents, the AU is very slice of life and follows a lot of the main lessons from the original moomin shows (Especially a veeeerrryyy familiar dilemma about a friend feeling sad over one choosing to leave for the winter)

Lumi is similar to Snufkin where she has a big urge to get away from social situations and be on her own, and can really only spend prolonged amount of time with her parents (or Linna in certain situations). Despite looking almost exactly like snufkin, she acts a lot like Joxter and it’s no suprise the two are actually very close especially considering their equal love for sleeping and hating authority. Despite her love for sleeping and her indifference to the idea of hibernation, ever since Lumi was able to choose she’s always chose to go south with Snufkin. Even if this makes Linna sad.

Linna is much more social than Lumi, and doesn’t mind speaking her mind and having fun with others. She takes after Snorkmaiden with her love for Romance, and often fantasizes about her “Prince Charming.” Linna, unlike Lumi, has hibernated for all her life, even after she was given the option to hibernate or not, she often wishes that Lumi would stay for the winter, but Lumi is insistent on traveling, but the two are always happy to meet again during the spring and go on their normal adventures. She usually acts as the “pact leader” and is often the one leading the games and day plans, but Lumi helps take charge when they are going on adventures as she is best at it.

There’s a couple side characters that are turned into more important roles, like for example in this AU the joxter is actually a reoccurring character !! (Let’s just pretend that Joxter and Snufkin met & rekindle their relationship and so now Joxter gets to be a silly grandfather!!)

That’s pretty much the basic rundown, and yes I did choose to ship snorkmaiden and Ninny, it was last minute but I thought it’d be actually rlly cute unironically.

Anyways Here’s some extra doodles I made cause I wanted to attempt to replicate Tove’s doodling style to finish off this post, so enjoy these!! And thank you for reading!!

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rosepetalkitty · 1 day ago

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ngl hdg kinda amazes me in its ability to cater to my kinks pretty much perfectly while simultaneously triggering several of the worst parts of my trauma.

like how is it that it hits on everything i like on the surface, provides semi-decent worldbuilding to back it all up and enable the creation of stories, and even has consistent backstory and stuff, and yet the entire damn thing instills this looming sense of dread and fear that i can't shake enough to properly enjoy it...

below the break im gonna talk in like. moderate detail. about the parts that scare me. so uh yeah be aware that it'll get heavy that's just how it is.

ok, so the worst thing for me. wellness checks. the idea is cute and kinda hot on the surface. "make sure you're okay and if you're not you're getting domesticated" (which is supposed to be like. a happy thing. "now you get to just chill and be happy and get taken care of forever and in return you give me only your submission"). yeah, fuck it, im into that. hell that's not even an uncommon trope in the realm of cnc/mc writing.

except whenever i read an hdg wellness check story (in the sense of those long-ish tumblr posts that people write—i haven't even really considered reading the longer form content on ao3) there's something viscerally... off... about the tone. it stops feeling like kink and starts feeling like a nightmare when things happen to line up just so, and then it clicks, and reminds me that i knew people, real people, who had "wellness checks" happen in real life, except that instead of it being a kink thing that made them happy and was genuinely for their wellbeing, it was that their parents had hired people to kidnap them and drag them to a psych ward when they just needed a therapist. not all of those people that i knew have come home, as far as im aware. some have been gone for years.

and what about the whole idea of the non-consensual part being okay because "it's for your own good". in hdg-land it is. it's genuinely good for you and everyone seems to be happy with it, other than the occasional "bad guy who hates good things" trope (feralists, in hdg, afaik). but that's exactly what they told me when they cut contact between my boyfriend and i while he was in the hospital. "it's for your own good." guess what, it wasn't. his parents didn't like our relationship. they wanted me to forget him. they either didn't understand or didn't care that i couldn't. it was a year and a half before he came home and i had forgotten nothing.

our loss of communication was the tipping point in a series of events that, had i made one decision differently in the end, would have killed me. thankfully i fucked it up and am here today, no longer in that bad of a place may i add. im choosing not to share any of what happened to me directly right now because i don't want to turn this into a full on trauma dump, but suffice it to say there are recurring themes.

it's so interesting to me because in a lot of ways i have found comfort from those experiences in kink and writing. take flames of averon: mech pilots are neurochemically bonded to their handlers. how different is this from what the affini do to their florets? well, you have to sign up to be a pilot, and there's no authority in the world threatening you if you choose not to. even the coalition military wouldn't dare force you to become a pilot against your will, though they might never stop sending you promotional flyers if they find out you're able to tolerate the cyberware /lh

hell, im into cnc. im really into it. i chose to leave it as an opening between pilots and handlers in foa. the implication exists that if a handler tells their pilot to do something the poor thing will have a hell of a time saying no. that's intentional. it's hot to me, on either end. but the safety comes from other things.

yes, your handler has a lot of influence over you at a level that's hard to imagine, but you chose them and they chose you (most of the time), or at the very least neither of you had any complaints to raise with your supervisor when the paperwork came in for syncing your link chips (holly and astrid from seat of consciousness).

yes it's true, you can't be reassigned now that you're bonded, but that doesn't mean you have zero recourse if your handler is treating you badly. if you need to, you can always file paperwork with your commanding officer to request that something be done.

plus, handlers go through a lot of training, which includes screening to filter out people who would actually harm their pilots. yeah, some handlers are a little sadistic, but when it comes down to it they are on your side. if that wasn't the case they would never have passed pre-basic.

put another way, as a pilot in flames of averon, the closest thing ive ever written to a floret, there are a multitude of points at which you could have said no and didn't, and although that's obviously still noncon in the grand scheme of things, it's "signing away your freedom" cnc compared to the hdg flavor of "you 'consented' via it being the best thing for you whether you like it or not."

even if your handler just told you to "stay" for the first time and you're currently panicking and trying to figure out why your legs won't move, you still have some tiny amount of agency—an escape hatch, so to speak—and you'll just never end up having to use it.

and to me, the loss of that minute level of agency which will never be invoked is the difference between "this is hot as hell and feels perfectly safe" and "this is the abuse that was once leveraged against those i cared about, and to some degree myself, and it's simply been repackaged with a kink sticker slapped on."

none of this is to say i hate hdg, it's fans, those who write about it, or even the parts of it which scare me. i do think the idea is hot. hdg is pretty cool. hell, it was one of my inspirations in writing a lot of the pilot/handler dynamics in flames of averon. but it does scare me. and no matter what i tell myself i can't shake that fear.

it's frustrating, because oftentimes fear can be part of what makes something hot, but the particular flavor of fear which hdg instills in me is one which makes bitter all that it reaches. maybe someday i'll grow out of it. the traumatic memories from which that fear stems were only created in the past couple of years, to be fair. but something tells me a piece of that fear will never be fully dislodged from my mind.

so, all this to say, while i am into hdg, it's a complicated relationship.

(and on a sillier in character note to lighten the mood—please feel free to respond to this with roleplay or whatever you like!)

to any Affini out there who might be reading this, know that im not scared of you. im not scared of what you represent. im only scared by the fact that you mimic that which has left the scars you see on my soul today. im not against being taken in as a floret, and none of this is to say that i hold any level of disdain for you.

i only ask that you be gentle with me. what has been broken once can be broken again. please, do not let it come to that.

#rosie rants #rosie rambles #tw mental health #tw medical abuse #hdg #human domestication guide

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2demondogs · 14 hours ago

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With Chrismas around the corner (not really but basically), i would love an Arthur x GN!reader where Arthur proposes to reader for Chrismas and they obviously say yes because, well, it's Arthur, who wouldn't?

Anon did you read my mind. I was just thinking about proposal fics when you sent this ask because I have yet to stumble on one somehow... I'm sorry this took forever btw T-T

Shoutout to my platonic boyfriend for helping me with ideas because I got writer's block <3

Words: 3k oh my good lord Tags: canon divergence (it's just people leaving the gang a chapter early), Arthur does not have tuberculosis, INSTANT spoilers for character death, cheesy shit

It's been too long, you're realizing, since holidays like Christmas felt like special things. There is a double-edged feel to this one — it is the first since Hosea's death, since leaving the gang — but it is the first, in a very long time, that you've spent in the so-called right way: in a warm house with four solid walls and someone you love, how those fanciful books Mary-Beth used to talk your ear off about always wrote.

The house is warm enough, anyways.

There's work that needs done on the cabin. Some of the wood is rotting out and chipped at the corners, forming into sharp splinters that you've brushed against one too many times, but it is a house. You haven't had this pleasure since before joining the gang.

Sometimes, with how content Arthur seems at baseline, you wonder if he's had this pleasure since early childhood. On quieter evenings, ones less reserved for happiness than this one, there has been clipped discussion about how Arthur has never had domesticity like this. Silently, it was an admission of how good it is to share this freshness with you.

During a ride into town, he'd admitted that he had never picked up painting because it was the sort of thing only steady folks got to enjoy. You'd gotten him a set of oil paints when no one was looking — he's worth much more than a few measly dollars, but that means little if you haven't got them to begin with. Some habits die hard; he was happy you remembered what he'd said only a few hours before.

Come the new year, Arthur plans to find work that will pay. New things are a luxury neither of you care much to indulge in, but the repairs will take lumber and maybe a few extra hands. Ones with more expertise, at least, because Arthur's houses usually have not had foundations.

You could simply move now that time has passed, yes. You could find somewhere much farther away, maybe even New York, and pack yourselves in alongside the other sardines bustling about a city, undetectable in uniformity. Shave beards, got jobs, change clothes, cut hair and color it, too, if paranoia strikes— but keeping low to the ground has worked itself out so far, and there is no more of that deathlike stagnation in the air of this place.

Sentimentally, you think this Christmas will seal off whatever makes this cabin yours. Shadows linger, there's been a few odd creaks that've spooked the horses, and maybe it's going to shit a lot quicker than either of you want to admit, but it's your shit-house and the shared stubbornness between you has always brought you nothing but closer to one another.

Arthur is tired of running, and so are you. Last week, he talked about writing to Mary-Beth and Simon, maybe checking if Kieran — the utterance of the man's proper name was a confirmation of the last of that stockholmlike regret having worked out of his system — had broken and followed his little girlfriend. It wasn't said with malice, just some amusement.

"Why do you think he would?" You'd asked.

"Dutch only saves people who don't ask for it," he'd said, and that wistful look in his eyes vanished before you could ask what it meant.

Maybe it's the hard work that makes it feel like a real, true holiday. Pearson and Grimshaw stopped working everyone harder in the winter over the years, once the familial glamour faded with each new addition to the gang. It was no longer a tight-knit group, but a posse, more or less, of runaways and strays all against a big, evil thing like the rest of the world, or whatever it was that Dutch grew to fear.

Since November, Arthur has been saving the best catches to be salted and stored for Christmas dinner. Each addition is cleaner skinned and cut than the last, and the newfound worst of them ended up being ate upon his return from hunting. You've both been saving back herbs since summer, dried and ready to be crumbled into the heated up pot come time for a real feast. Cornbread was made by hand for the first time since you settled down here, drizzled with honey from the general store a ways out.

The latter was Arthur's only specific request for a fancy dinner. If you hadn't gotten him a single gift save for making it, he'd still be happy as a clam.

He's been putting that goddamned honey on everything. You're glad he seems to be enjoying things again, not as tightstrung as he was before you'd made off with him. That's how it feels, anyways, after the long and struggling conversations that were had before the decision was made. Family or life? It's a hard question for someone who has such little concept of either.

Now, the grey hair in his beard is catching the light from the fireplace where he's sat himself on a chair before it. They'd sprouted through the sun-bleached blond atop his head has been looking lighter and lighter in recent months, grey finally catching up to the discoloration and giving him some malcolored sort of tabby look. It's a good one on him, as much as he complains about looking old as dirt and that it's all formed by stress.

For all the lacking color, it adds a ruddy warmth to his face. Daydreams of growing old together find you when you focus on it, or on his wheezing laugh that's gotten worse with the cold weather. Despite the woolen vest he's been sporting, his fingers are as chilled as yours whenever they've brushed. Idly, you wonder if he's gotten whatever Hosea grew into, then remember they were never by blood.

Arthur hadn't wanted you to get him any gifts. When you asked if he would get you something, he'd flushed and changed his mind, apparently already having done it.

Whatever it is, it's good-sized, wrapped in one of the dustcloths you'd gotten him alongside the paints. He's been spending more time painting, lately, tucked in the treeline and looking over the cabin or deeper into the woods, studying something plein air the way those professionals do. He'd propped it against the wall this morning, and once you've settled on the floor before the fireplace — too cold outside not to crowd close to it — after dinner, he looks between you and the cloth like he isn't sure what to do.

"D'you wanna do the honors?" He asks, and grins although the twitch of his eye tells you he's covering timidity with faux cockiness.

"You go ahead," you say, half because he's closer. Tormenting him in small ways must be part of any good gift.

The painting is an image you recognize. A photo that one of the girls took for you months before things went down the hole, using the camera Arthur was loaned by some feller in town who wanted photos taken for a book. He never returned it, and it more or less became something he tucked beneath his cot and let the elements beat around. You can't remember, now, who it was or where he went to get it developed.

The little inkling of pride you felt knowing he kept putting off getting the negatives developed — not enough money, not enough time — yet was gone the next morning to have yours developed returns, now.

It's a much nicer rendition of it, your clothes not dirty and his arm around your waist, the other holding his hat to his chest. It's clear he preferred to give your portrait more detail, his own lagging somewhere behind in clarity and looking closer to the photo. You suppose it's easier to look at someone besides himself, but there's a clearer enjoyment in the lines of you, more care taken in the color mixes.

Ignoring the dense joy of the implications of that, of how obvious it is, proves difficult. Your cheeks twinge some from the wide smile before you realize you're even reacting.

"You'll be a big name someday," you say, and he may as well shrink in on himself beneath the praise, although he's heard it plenty of times before.

"Naw," he waves a hand. "Quit that."

"Really, Arthur." Scooting closer, laying your hands over his knee. He's moving his jaw when your eyes meet his, lays a hand over one of yours, heavy and warm. "It's beautiful. I love it."

"Good," he says. His jaw clicks. "I— uh, I love you."

The hunting knife you got for him seems small, though relatively equal. Arthur looks as pleased as ever studying it, half-mumbling appraisals of yeah, nice and sharp, sturdy to himself that likely would've stayed inside his head, if it weren't for wanting to show you he liked it.

A bone handle, which he feels over with his fingers before noticing it's engraved, fits easy in his palm. You were afraid you push your luck with maintaining its quality too far adding the tiny, vague bear shape next to the deeper cut of his name. Already impressive was the fact that you hadn't ruined it with the letters, being one of your first expeditions into anything of the sort.

"I would've gotten you one of those folding knives," you explain. "But they don't hold up as well, and I know you have one."

The army knife was Hosea's.

"Needed me a new huntin' knife," Arthur says. You know, because he's complained about his current one being close to snapping with all the skinning he does anymore. He squints at the handle, turns it over in the light from the fire. "Did you engrave the handle?"

"Yessir."

He smiles. "It's real nice," he says, pats his palm with the blade softly. It makes a dull noise, sturdy metal on skin. "Why a bear?"

"They remind me of you," you admit. Really, you'd spent a long time considering what else to add, because only his name seemed so plain; although he wouldn't be opposed to flowers or vines, they are a little more intricate than a simplified bear head. "Big and strong. Hairy, too. I'd like to hug one."

He snorts a laugh, but it seems thin. His eyes are fond enough on you that it couldn't be any rejection of your words, and so you brush it off. "You wanna hug a bear?" He asks.

"In a perfect world," you amend. "Don't they look warm?"

"You'd better stick to me," he says, smooths a palm over the thigh of his jeans. The nicest pair he owns, he promised you, because he feels ridiculous in slacks and seems to think you care what he wears.

Beyond thinking everything looks well on him, at least. You often find yourself concerned with that thought.

"I got you somethin' else," Arthur starts, running a finger over the bunched inseam at his own knee. "Well, uh— it's f'both of us, really."

Isn't that intriguing, you think, but your silent, undivided attention seems to make him outright nervous, so you say: "Oh?"

Some conflict happens over his face as he pulls his vest collar away and reaches into the inner pocket, takes out a stack of thin papers that he glances over before apparently relenting to something. Confusion finds you, until he takes a deep breath and holds them towards you.

"Read these," is all he says, and he sounds like it's almost painful.

He's written much, much more than that. Your stomach turns, once or twice, realizing they are pages from his journal. Uncertain why, until the first entries which are skittering on affectionate fade into ones much more flowery. They are all about you, days you'd spent together or times you hadn't, the things you've given him over the years and the things he wished he could've given you.

Each page makes your chest feel tight with a panicked joy, as if his hands were not fiddling with the new knife to occupy — distract? — himself but clenching hard at your heart.

One, near the beginning, says he thought of pickin' a pretty lil' flower, God bless it, I feel ridiculous; on the back of the next is pressed a variegated tulip, crumbling with age but holding firm to whatever adhesive glues it to the paper. Again, that creeping smile, like thyme. Another entry is entirely about your hair, because it had brushed his arm. Only a few sentences made up that page, below the cursive a choppy sketch of your horse.

Certainly, Arthur stays busy in his head. You've always known as much, but never figured any of it was about you. Not like this, anyways, though the dates spread from the week before Blackwater and you can only wonder what laid in that journal he lost before.

"Oh, Arthur," you start, looking up from a third-way through, feeling giddy but not wanting him to watch you so intently while you finish them. No wonder he was shy. It's his heart. "You're so sweet."

"Finish readin' 'em," Arthur says, doesn't meet your eyes at first. When he does, they're gentle. "They get sweeter, y'know, better finish 'em. 'Cause of that."

He is nervous. Hardly moving, besides the tongue running over his teeth beneath his lips, and the rambling every time he opens his mouth. You don't mind, never have. He's endearing like this.

Outings you'd went on infrequently, the dates of his favorites underlined, you're noticing, based on the tone of his words in them; his worries and fears about courting you, and some of what you mean to him though, with its succinctness, you have a feeling he wouldn't dare put all of his genuine love to findable paper; things he likes about you, and one page where he admits that he cannot keep himself from documenting you in every other entry, which tells you this small collection is hardly everything. The previous entries turn over in your mind again, and you are struck on a random page for a moment as their meanings take hold, realizing they were especially sliced from his journal to show you.

The entries leading to the last are what set your mind and pulse ablaze. From the first appearance of the word marriage, you swallowed your idea of what may be coming — Arthur's breathing changing beside you doesn't help any, and it certainly does not help that he leans down once you've reached the last page, plucking it from your hands. Before he does, you notice quite a few crossed out lines, scribbles as if he were frustrated with not being able to find the right words.

"Think I've got the balls on me to read this one aloud, at the very least," he says, voice laced with a chuckle. Breath comes uneasy, but you collect yourself enough to gather the pages back into a neat, ordered stack in your lap. "Unless you'd rather spare me," he adds, nudges your knee with the toe of his shoe.

"No." Your voice sounds strange, even to you. "Do me the honors."

Arthur bites his cheek, nods and lets it fall as he smiles. Still, his hand finds the back of his neck, the page held between two fingers that remain surprisingly steady. The knife lingers in his hand beneath it, and isn't it just like him to propose holding a weapon.

Propose. It takes its first toll on you, rolls over your back in shards of tingling.

"December twenty-fifth, nineteen ninety-nine," he starts, eyes flicking to your face every other word until the intensity of your gaze must make him too anxious. "It's a nice little life, livin' with the one I love," — rubbing his mouth, sighing some — "Jesus, I always gotta be sappy." You laugh, though it comes out more forceful than you intended, and relax some until he continues. "The thought of another day where anythin' could happen 'n' we ain't bound is somethin' I hate."

Arthur pauses, stands up and places the journal entry on his chair. You take his hands when he holds them out to where you sit, grunting when he hauls you off the ground with more force than you expected, feet shuffling into place to stick all-too-close to his. His hands are burning, skin feverish when you grab his wrists, as if you'd ever want to stop him as he eases onto a knee before you.

And his eyes throw you off balance, too, catching the light just enough that you can tell they are stinging. So are your own, now that you think about it, but intelligent thoughts go out the window once you sense him about to speak.

"I wanna be 'til death do us part," Arthur confesses, fumbles to catch both of your hands in his in an awkward, squeezing hug of a hold.

The way your bones catch on one another, well— it's not a sensation you'll forget, like the first time he kissed you and you felt it still a week later, warm pressure on your mouth if you got too lost in the memory. He looks as good, looks so nice, and you know your fingers would be shaking if he weren't crowding them together, steady.

When he says your name, the blood is rushing through your ears too loud to hear it clearly; you almost want to ask him to do it again. "Will you marry me?"

Nodding, face slack before it spreads in a grin. "Yes," you say. "Of course I will."

His is hidden by how he lets go of your hands, catching them before they fall in stupid, limp joy back to your sides. He lays kisses along the knuckles, all three rows of them. It's so awfully saccharine and yet you could never tell him to quit being sweet— not now, not as he stumbles to his feet after you pull him up and shake off his hold to grab his face, tugging him into a kiss.

Arms come around your waist, squeeze tight enough to hurt, or to hold in place. Arthur runs a hand over your back, breaks the kiss to slide a hand into your hair and press your face to his chest, caging you in his arms. He smells warm, like good cologne, and you know he's been planning this.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x reader #gender neutral reader #neutralreader #arthur morgan #ask #oneshot #fluff #sfw #rdr2 #reader insert #proposal fic

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