#IF I HAD THE COURAGE TO TAG MY OTHER MUTUALS I WOULD

[silver-queen]

@inkycolors

You think your fandom is niche, try being obsessed with your besties oc

[hangmanssunnies]

Heat To Boil

Summary: After a failed Tinder date, you go to hang out with your friend Jake "Hangman" Seresin. When you get to his house, you unexpectedly find him with a baby, and it is a sight that rewires something in your head. Jake needs a baby of his own. Right now — like yesterday, actually. And that is a task you would be more than willing to help with; now, you just need to find the courage to bring it up.

Pairings: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Word count: 9k

AO3 Link

Warnings: 18+ Only, Friends to lovers, baby fever, smut, P in V, Oral, Hangman with a baby (deserves its own warning)

Author's note: The attorneys at work keep bringing their babies in and letting me hold them, and @top-hhun has done absolutely nothing to discourage the subsequent baby fever I've been dealing with. Anyways, that's where this fic came from. I hope you enjoy this. My inbox is always open if you want to let me know your thoughts. Reblogs with your thoughts, opinions, and tags are gold to me. I love reading through them.

You had become friends with Jake unexpectedly some years ago, hitting it off at your mutual friend's wedding. Part of you had, of course, hoped the attractive blonde aviator would be interested in you, maybe in a romantic sense, but it never came to fruition. He shipped out the week after the wedding, but the easy rapport you carried with him started with sharing jokes about how trashed other people got at the reception, and eventually developing into a true and close friendship. 

It was for the best because the more you got to know Jake, it became clear to you that he didn't want the same things that you did. He was focused on his career and didn't have time for a partner. When he did talk about settling down, it was never in an authentic way, more joking that he was waiting to swoop in if Coyote's marriage fell apart or that his Mama would set him up with a nice southern belle who wanted to give her twelve grandkids. Jake would claim he was too busy for a relationship, away from home too much to be steady. However, none of that seemed to stop him from finding time for you, which is probably why you hadn't been able to completely repress your feelings for him despite some valiant efforts. 

Just today, after a failed lunch date with someone from Tinder, you texted Jake disheartened. He hadn't hesitated first to ask if you were okay and then invited you over for dinner to tell him all about it. He had even promised to cook you whatever you wanted. A special treat guaranteed to make you feel better, considering Jake's superb culinary skills. 

You walk into Jake's house without knocking or ringing the bell, knowing he left the door unlocked in anticipation of your arrival. After securing the front door's lock into place, you toe off your shoes, making sure to set them neatly in line with the others there. Jake's home is clean and tidy, just like it always is; the organization of the entry is no exception. You know from the smells and sounds wafting towards you that he must still be cooking, which is odd because he's almost always done by the time you show up. 

Venturing further into the house you see him, standing in the kitchen, with a baby strapped to his chest. It's an unexpected sight, and you're frozen by it. Jake's in a casual white teeshirt, jeans, and a dark navy blue sling with a camo pattern wrapped tightly around him, securing a tiny infant in place against his broad chest. His hair is fluffy like it often is on his days off, and the golden strands fall across his forehead. Seeing it like this always creates an instinctual desire to run your fingers through it. However, you can hardly even process that thought because you're so distracted by the bundle on his chest. Music is playing on his record player, and he is humming along. 

Jake suddenly stops the humming, and the prep he is doing, looking down at the baby. After a pause, a smile pulls at the edges of his lips, his eyes crinkle before he drops a kiss on the infant's head. And it's like everything is right. Jake with a baby seems so natural. The fact that he exists any other way than with a baby in his arms every day feels wrong. Your heart starts beating harder in your chest, and a thought pops into your head, instantly taking deep root: Jake needs a baby of his own. Right now — like yesterday, actually. 

You don't know what sound you must have made, but Jake looks up and finally notices you standing in the hallway. He doesn't appear at all startled as a wide grin spreads across his face as he greets you, "Howdy there, Doll!"  

"You have a baby," you say stupidly in an entirely delayed response. 

"Yeah, this little guy is Jackson. Coyote and the Mrs wanted a date day, so I offered to watch the baby for them. They were supposed to be here two hours ago to pick him up, but I'm sure they just got caught up." Jake laughs and presses another kiss to Jackson's head. Before continuing on, "I hope you don't mind."

"No, I don't mind," you manage to breathe out, unable to tear your eyes off Jake or even pretend you're not staring. He quirks an eyebrow at you but otherwise doesn't comment. After he gestures for you to join him, he returns to the cutting board in front of him. You are transfixed; when you sit down at the bar in the kitchen, it occurs to you that you should probably say something and not just stare like an idiot. "Do you want me to take him?"

"I think he is just fine here," Jake says, examining the sleeping baby strapped to his chest again. Jackson has hardly moved since you showed up, clearly passed out, not disturbed by the music or any of the kitchen sounds. 

"At least let me help finish cooking then?" You request. 

"No, Ma'am. Bubba and I have this dinner taken care of. I did pick up that wine you like from the store. Maybe you can open it up for us?" 

Entering the kitchen, you pull out two wine glasses from a cabinet. Opening the fridge you see your preferred wine stocked, as well as a few of your other favorite drinks stored there. Warmth blooms in your chest that Jake picked up things for you when he was at the store last. It was touching that he would take care to buy something he would never touch but getting it anyway just to have beverages you prefer on hand. After pouring the wine, you set one glass next to Jake's cutting board, making sure it's in easy reach for him. 

"Thank you," he says appreciatively. You sigh and lean against him, pressing your face into the bicep of his arm, careful not to disturb Jackson or the sling as you do. Closing your eyes, you breathe him in, looking for the subtle cedar scent of his cologne to soothe you. However, only a hint of it tickles your nose, the cedar not as strong as it usually is. Today, Jake smells more like clean laundry and his natural musk than anything else. You are surprised to find it still does the trick in helping settle your nerves, though. Jake hums but doesn't protest your closeness, instead asking, "Long day?" 

You don't answer with words, just humming noncommittally against his arm. You leave your face pressed there for a moment longer. "Not enough wine to talk about it yet," you eventually say into his arm before pulling away. Settling on the other side of the counter again, you take a long drink of the wine you poured. Deciding to admire Jake again, you ask, "How was your day?"

"It was pretty good. Javy dropped Jackson off this morning. We had tummy time, went on a walk, and to the grocery store to get things for dinner. Then we got a little cranky, so we rocked in the lazy boy for a while." You took a moment to picture Jake doing these activities and can't decide which is most swoon worthy. Jake is always swoon worthy, of course, but knowing that he was caring for a baby while doing it feels like an extra kick to the stomach or maybe ovaries. 

"And?" You ask him, taking another drink of your wine and pillowing your face on your palm. 

"And what?" Jake asks. 

"What else did you and Jackson do today? I want to hear every detail." 

Jake gives into your request easily. Starting his description of the day over, he tells you how even though he has babysat before, the Machados were still anxious to leave Jackson alone here when they dropped him off that morning. Jake told you about tummy time, which toys they liked and which were uninteresting. How long their walk was, and what they saw. He told you about the old woman who fawned over them in the store and how they helped her with getting her groceries to the car. It was endearing that Jake used the first person plural 'we' as if he and Jackson were a team with equal agency in their day's activities. It was especially cute when Jake told you about the tantrum they had thrown earlier in the afternoon as if he had been crying right along with his godson. 

Just as dinner was finished and you were setting the table, Jackson woke up and started to get fussy. Jake cooed to the baby affectionately, leaving to the guest room, where Javy had stuffed almost a car full of supplies for Jake to watch Jackson. Some of the just-in-case supplies included toys and clothes Jackson wouldn't even be able to use until he was at least a year old.  

When Jake comes back, both he and Jackson are wearing different clothes. Jake is in a soft green shirt and sweats, while Jackson is now wearing a giraffe onesie. He has the baby propped on his hip and doesn't offer you any explanation aside from that they had an accident. Then he sees that you have plated and set everything for dinner at the dining room table, and he offers a soft thank you. 

You watch as he balances Jackson on his hip and starts following the written out directions for making a bottle that's taped to his fridge. Jake isn't someone who struggles, and you know that this is something that he is fully capable of doing, but you also can't help but think that it would be easier for him if he had two free hands. So, you gently pull Jackson from his arms and into your own instead. 

The baby blinks up at you, his eyes still soft and sleepy. He babbles a bit of nonsense but otherwise makes no protest at you. Jackson has the same brown eyes and skin tone as his father. Even with his chubby cheeks, you can tell that the little boy is going to be Coyote's mini-me. The similarities in their appearance are so close it's like the universe had just hit copy and paste. 

He is so cute you can't stop the grin that stretches across your lips when Jackson snuggles into you. One of his hands starts grabbing at your shirt's fabric while he absently gnaws at his other one. The little boy completely steals your attention as you walk around the living room and dining room with him. Asking him how he feels about his day with his Uncle Jake, pausing for his babbling like they were real answers. Jake comes up behind you several minutes later, setting a steady hand on the small of your back.

 "Here, let me take him," Jake mutters practically in your ear while reaching for Jackson. 

"No," you protest, turning away from Jake's reach. "You've had him all day. I've only gotten to hold him for a few minutes." 

"Now, darling," Jake drawls. 

"Don't darling me."

"Doll," He says 

"Don't Doll me either." You snap, though the aggression of it is completely manufactured. 

"Fine, fine," Jake says, holding his hands up. "You can have him for a few more minutes, but then it's my turn again."  

"How is that fair?" 

"It's fair because he is my godson." 

You pout at Jake, and he pouts back." I can't believe you're going to be a baby hog like this. Don't you know sharing is caring?" 

"Jackson isn't a rental car, sweetheart. Can't just hand him out to anybody."

"So what? You don't trust me with him?" 

"No," Jake says, suddenly dropping all of his dry, teasing tone. "Of course, I trust you with him. Of course, I trust you."

Jake steps closer when he says this, crowding a bit into your personal space. His sea glass green eyes hold you in place, and you don't think you imagine that they flick downwards, that he has his sights set on your lips, that Jake could be considering kissing you. However, a breath later, he is swooping Jackson out of your arms and into his own, quickly back peddling. 

"You can have the baby back after I feed him, okay? I don't want to risk him throwing up on that pretty blouse you've got on." 

"Kidnaper! Baby Snatcher!" You half gasp, half yell, and start to chase after Jake as he runs away, holding Jackson close and carefully but still managing to evade you.  

You're both laughing, and Jackson has started joyfully screeching as well when the doorbell rings, startling all three of you. Jake hands Jackson to you wordlessly before going to check who's at the door. It only takes a minute for him to come back with Coyote in tow. Who immediately rushes to sweep his baby from your arms and press kisses all over his cherub face. 

After Javy examined his son to ensure nothing was out of sorts, he handed Jackson back to you to hold while he and Jake packed up all of his stuff and moved the car seat. This was only after he made a sly comment about how good you looked with a baby in your arms, though. 

When you are alone with Jackson again, you take a moment to admire yourself in the mirror hanging on the wall. It wasn't such a hard thing for you to imagine holding a baby, and it looking normal, like something right, especially when you start to picture one with Jake's features or one that would take more after you, possibly even some sweet mix. The feeling of casual want that started from seeing Jake when you first arrived suddenly twists into an unexpected ache and intense need. 

You expect it to let up, but it doesn't. Rather, the feeling smolders in you, burning hotter and hotter until it feels slightly consuming. Seeing Jake hug and kiss Jackson goodbye, promising they would spend another day together soon, nearly does you in. Heating your feelings from a low simmer to a roaring boil. 

When you and Jake finally sit down to actually have dinner, it gets a little hotter with every sip of wine you take. Every time that Jake smiles and his eyes crinkle around the edges, the way he asks about your failed date with the perfect mix of sympathy and care, even the way he reheated dinner, all adds to the fire. As Jake is starting to put away the leftovers from dinner, refusing to let you help, you can't keep it in anymore, and you boil over. 

"Jackson was so precious," you say, casually swirling the bit of drink you have left around in the glass.  

"Little mans is so fun. I love him. It's always a treat to babysit," 

"You were really great with him today." 

"Aw, thanks Doll. Now, what do you want to do with the rest of the night? Play a game, watch a movie? We can do anything you want."

"Anything I want?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jake says easily as he pops the lids of his pyrex container into place.  

"I want a baby." You say in a quick breath. You nearly slap your hand over your mouth in horror that had just jumped out of your mouth. You really haven't had enough wine to be this bold, but then again, maybe you were a little intoxicated on having seen Jake be so domestic. 

"What?" he asks with a laugh, probably thinking he misheard you. You grip the edge of the cool countertop trying to steady your nerves and prevent your hands from shaking. 

"Jake, I want a baby," you tell him more slowly, making sure each word comes out clearly. 

"No, you don't," he laughs, shaking his head. He starts tossing dirty dishes into the sudsy water of the sink and stacking up the food containers to put in the fridge. Jake turns away from you before saying, "I thought you've said you didn't want kids."

"It's complicated," you explain softly. "Are people not allowed to change their minds about things anymore?" 

"Oh, so are you debating or like —"

"I don't really know how to say this more clearly. I want to have a baby with you, Jake." 

He freezes. You see his shoulders tense, and he stares into the fridge for a long moment, slowly finishing storing the leftovers. When he closes the fridge, he still doesn't look at you immediately. 

"You want me to be the father of a child you have? You want to have my baby?" Jake asks you incredulously. You gulp, now feeling entirely too vulnerable to speak, so you just nod in agreement instead. Jake's eyes are piercing, and his body language is tense as he stands in front of the sink again. He heaves a heavy sigh, his lips flattening into a tight line. Then he scrubs his hands over his face before narrowing his eyes at you, "This is not a very funny joke." 

"It's not a joke, Jake. I want a baby, and I know you would be a good father." When Jake's demeanor still doesn't change, you continue on hurriedly. "I think we could do the whole platonic coparent thing easily enough. We get along so well, and we're already such good friends." 

There is a long pause where he does not say anything, turning on the sink, waiting for the water to heat, and sudsing up a scrub daddy sponge. Only once this task is started does he answer you in a very stoic, perfectly level tone, "No, I don't think I can do that. I can't just sleep with you."

"Oh, well. I see. Forget that I asked, please." You mutter, embarrassed but trying to not let the sting of rejection affect your tone. You knew that this could backfire, but you didn't think it would feel this bad. Feel like the pit of your stomach falling so low you are almost nauseous. 

"I'm sorry, Dolly." 

"It's okay, Jake, really. It's just the wine getting to me."

"Are you going to ask someone else?" 

"What?" 

"Are you going to ask someone else to give you a baby?" Jake asks in a gruff tone. 

You wouldn't actually, you wouldn't want one without Jake. In fact, this urge to have a child came from seeing him. However, you didn't know how else to play off your out-of-pocket request than to commit to the bit. Nonchalantly, you say, "Maybe." 

"I could help you find someone," he offers. 

"Please, Jake. It's okay you said no. You don't have to try and fix my situation."

He practically ignores you, asking, "What about Rooster?"

"I'm sure that I would have fun with the process," you say. Jake, who has focused himself with dedication on the dishes, looks up at you sharply. He quickly looks away again as you continue, "I'd be worried about having a baby that's born with a full mustache, though. So, no, thank you." 

"I'm sure Fritz would be happy to help you out." 

"No —"

"Harvard—" 

"No Hangman. Stop," You say much harder with emphasis, cutting him off and leaving no room for argument. 

"I tell you no for one thing, and suddenly I'm Hangman to you?"

"No, you're Hangman when you disregard the people around you, no matter what they say. You're Hangman when you decide something's a mission objective, and you refuse to let it go. This isn't your problem to fix or one to pawn off on one of your friends." 

"You made it my problem when you just asked me to give you a baby," Jake says, frustrated. Roughly scrubbing the dishes, rinsing, and setting them in the drying rack. 

"Well, the moment you said no, it's not your problem anymore. I'm absolving you of responsibility. It's my problem, and I will find someone for myself to put up with me, at least for a night." You joke, trying to lighten the mood again, not wanting to ruin the whole night from this mishap. Jake doesn't react more than his face darkening significantly, a deep frown pulling at his lips as he rinses the last dish and closes the dishwasher. 

"Put up with you?" He asks, his eyebrows knitting together. Jake reaches for a dish towel to dry off his hands, and you're momentarily distracted by the thick fingers and web of veins tracing up his arm. It's a better sight than meeting Jake's intense eyes, those eyes that can stare you down and leave no room for you to hide. 

"I mean, I know I'm a lot, but I think even I can get someone to fuck me once or twice. If I want and am very lucky, I'll only need one night. There are also other options, of course, like sperm banks and adoption. Let's just let it go. Okay?" When you don't get an immediate response, you glance at Jake once more. He is staring at you, but it's not a look you like. He's looking at you like you are a problem to be fixed, a puzzle to solve, an item to take off his to-do list. So you force a chuckle out and smile.  

"I don't think I want to. Actually, I can't let this conversation go." 

"We have to," you insist. 

"Why?"

"Because Jakers, it doesn't have anywhere else to go. I expressed a stupid desire without thinking. It was awkward, and that's okay. It doesn't have to stay that way, though. Now we laugh and forget it. There is no other option." 

"A lot. Put up with. Stupid desires," Jake scoffs the words as he rounds the kitchen island. He spins the bar stool chair you're sitting on by the back, turning you to face him. Then he sets his hands on the marble countertop on either side of you, effectively boxing you in. Even sitting on the tall bar stool, you have to tilt your head a bit to look up at him. When your eyes meet again, the green isn't as soft or kind as you're expecting. "I don't like how you're talking about yourself right now." 

"I'm just being honest. I'm taxing to deal with; people get tired of me. My past relationships have certainly taught me that I'm only desirable under the right conditions. And I am stupid. I just ruined our whole night because I couldn't keep my mouth shut. What kind of normal person asks one of their best friends to fuck a baby into them unprompted?"

"Oh wow, I'm not even sure where to start with all that." Jake breathes. You can't take seeing his furrowed brow and disappointed frown. So instead, you examine his right arm that's stretched by you, mapping out the moles and freckles there. "You've developed a warped sense of the truth, Doll."  

It's your turn to scoff and roll your eyes. When you do, the arm you've been studying shifts, and Jake cups your cheek. Gently, he urges your face to turn back towards his, and a calloused thumb sweeps across your cheekbone. "Listen to me good now. The things you want and desire they ain't stupid, and neither are you. You're not too much. You're just enough."

"Thank you, Jake." You whisper. And while his words are kind, you don't really believe them.  

"Don't say thank you."

"What else am I supposed to say?"

"Say you believe me and mean it," Jake urges you. 

"I don't want to lie to you. That's not who we are, that's not our friendship," You say. Jake's hand drops from your cheek, and he steps back quickly as if he's been burned. After you had been so surrounded by him, you nearly reach out to urge him close again. Running a hand through his hair, you can tell he's resisting the urge to pace. 

"Is that our friendship, one built on honesty?" 

"I thought so." 

"Then I've failed you, and I've failed us because it's not." 

"Jake, what are you talking about?" You ask him, confused. He shakes his head at you and doesn't respond, instead backing away further until he is abandoning you in the kitchen. Swiftly, you stand to follow him, "Where are you going?" 

"I'm leaving." 

"And going where? This is your house," you remind him. You've caught up to him in the doorway of his bedroom, where he's grabbing a hat and his wallet. "I'm sorry I ruined tonight, and I'll leave. You have to be honest with me before I do, though. I have to know we're going to be okay tomorrow." 

"I can't," Jake says tersely, not meeting your eyes and attempting to sidestep you in the doorway. 

"I was wrongly under the impression there wasn't anything you couldn't do, Hangman. But I guess we are finding a lot of things you just can't do tonight, aren't we?" You aren't expecting the little lash out of a taunt to get you anywhere. Jake is normally always calm, cool, and collected, acting with decisive precision. However, nearly as soon as you've finished speaking, Jake's hands are on your arms, and he backs you up until you gently hit the wall of the hallway across from his door. 

"You're asking for more self-restraint than I have, Doll." He warns roughly. The sudden movement doesn't make you back down like he was probably expecting. Instead, the rush makes you feel emboldened. 

"I don't care. I can accept you don't want a baby with me, that you don't want to fuck me. I can accept that you want to force me to talk, but I can't accept you making me question our friendship." 

"Oh god. You really don't understand. My honesty is not going to make this better," he warns. 

"Yes, I do. Whatever it is, please tell me. I can think of many things you could be referring to, like that I'm not attractive to you. How I would make a terrible mother. Maybe I'm not a good friend. Or you don't actually like spending time with me. Whatever it is, you have to tell me. I've never thought you would lie to me. So, I need to know, or it's going to drive me crazy." 

"There you are, all twisted up again," Jake sighs. 

"And whose fault is that?" You snap back. Jake still has you pressed against the wall, so you set your hands on his broad chest with the intention of pushing him away. However, he doesn't budge; in fact, he does the opposite, coming even closer so he is flush against you. You refuse to tilt your chin to look up at him as he looms, rather only lifting your eyes in a cold stare. "I shouldn't be surprised that you're going to leave me hanging to dry, but you could at least —"

You don't get to finish the thought because a hand has snaked to hold the side of your neck, thumb tucking under your chin, turning your face upwards to Jake's waiting lips. The first brush of his lips on yours doesn't line up quite right, but that doesn't stop your breath from catching. Shifting to get a better angle, Jake applies two more feather light kisses. Your hands, which are still resting on his chest, creep up, and you loop them around his shoulders, using the leverage to lift higher on your toes and get closer to him. 

This prompts him to deepen his next kiss, lips moving harder against yours. When you open your mouth wider in invitation, Jake's tongue traces along your bottom lip but doesn't dive in. You whine when Jake pulls away to take a breath. 

"Forgive me, Doll, I should've asked first." 

"Asked what?" You wonder, not moving your eyes away from his lips and strategizing how to get them back on yours. You think if you could just get a little higher, you would be able to kiss him without Jake needing to bend down so much. 

"May I kiss you?" He asks. 

"Yes, please." You answer immediately. You tug your hold on his shoulders, hoping it will urge him to get right back to it. Jake doesn't, though. His hand shifts from your neck to cup your cheek again, his other leaving the wall to settle on your waist. 

"Can I touch you?"

"Yes, Jake." His hand traces up your side from your waist and back down again in what is a soothing motion. It's too soft and delicate for what you want right now, though, so you tug on his neck again, pressing your chest into his. He gives in this time, molding his lips to yours once more. 

When his tongue meets yours, a low rumble emulates from Jake's chest, and the sound sends a new wave of arousal coursing through you. Reaching up, you push off Jake's hat, not caring where it falls, only that it's no longer in your way. When you thread your fingers into his hair, it's smooth and silky, providing no resistance when you tug it. 

"Tell me what you want, Doll," Jake says when your lips part again. 

"You. I want you," you whimper, tugging his hair again. A wide grin breaks across Jake's face, and his eyes crinkle around the edges. He tucks his face into your neck, and you can still feel him smiling. 

"What else do you want?" He questions. When his lips brush a spot that makes you stretch your neck to give him easier access, he nips it lightly. You stumble, coming up with a response, just sighing his name as he finds another spot to bite. "Come on now, you said it so pretty earlier. Tell me again."

Once his request processes through your lust filled brain, you push on Jake's shoulders once more. This time, he doesn't resist, backing away from you and creating some space between your heated bodies. Sagging against the wall, you try to catch your breath while examining Jake. His hair is disheveled now, some of it falling across his forehead. 

"You said no, you don't want that with me. You don't want this with me," You answer, finally dropping your gaze to examine the grain of the hardwood floor near your feet. Confusion at this sudden turn in attitude from him settles over you as your head clears. One of Jake's hands enters your field of vision, turned upwards in an offering. "Come sit, we need to set some things straight." 

Taking Jake's hand, he curls his fingers with yours and gently tugs you back through the doorway of his room. With his direction, you perch on the edge of his four poster bed. Jake presses a kiss to the back of your hand and lets it go to settle on the accent chair that's in the corner. 

"We'll be honest, right?" You say hesitantly, already missing the feeling of Jake's hand in yours. 

"Yes. I'll be honest." Jake answers reassuringly before continuing, "From the beginning, I never wanted to be friends with you. 

"You didn't?" 

"Nope," he says, popping the p. "I never wanted to be friends, and then once we were friends, I was stuck. You didn't seem to want the same things as I did, and I'm not the kind of man to complain about the friend zone."

"I haven't friend you zoned you," you say, scandalized at the suggestion. 

"Just earlier tonight, you asked me to have a baby with you, platonically," Jake deadpans. 

"Because I can't conceptualize you wanting me any other way." 

"I want you. I've always wanted you, but not platonically, baby." 

Baby. Jake was a casual sweet name user, there was doll, sweetheart, honey, darling, those all were commonplace, but baby was new. Hearing it makes butterflies erupt in your stomach. He called you baby, and he has wanted you. You could have had him from the start if your fears and insecurities hadn't held you back. 

"I'm sorry," you whisper. 

"I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to need me, to love me," Jake explains with more hesitation than you've ever heard from him as if he is tip-toeing through this conversation. Worrying your fingers together, you have to take a calming breath to settle your own hesitation before answering him, "Well, that's easy because I do."  

A gleeful grin stretches across his face, and it's so bright you feel a matching one appear. He rubs a hand over his face, hiding it from view for a moment, and when you see his face again, he is still smiling. He looks as if he is trying to bite it back but can't quite manage. 

"Well, alright, a few more things we have to iron out then. I love spending time with you. You've never not been desirable to me." You can't help a disbelieving laugh when Jake says that, and the look he gives you is disapproving. "I mean that. I was thinking about it even the time I came over to bring you soup when you had the flu. Wanted to bundle you up and crawl into bed with you." 

"Oh, come on, that can't be true. I was so gross." 

"It is. I promised I would be honest, and I'm not going to be breaking any of the promises I make to you. Can you believe that?" 

You study his face, tracing over his nose, and jaw. He still has the hint of a grin that hasn't slid off his features yet, and he looks so very earnest. You can't imagine that Jake would be in the business of lying to you, and the openness he is offering makes it feel like you can believe him. That you can keep trusting him just like you always have. "I can believe that."

"Great. So, baby —" 

"Yes?" You say entirely too breathily before he can even finish the sentence. It was really a surprise how much hearing him say that already turned your brain to some form of liquid. 

"I want to sleep with you," Jake says plainly. 

"Then why are you all the way over there?" 

"I didn't want you to feel any sort of pressure while we were talking, and wasn't confident I could keep my hands to myself." 

Standing up from his bed, you walk steadily over to the chair Jake is sitting in. Crawling into his lap more confidently than you truly feel, his hands automatically slip around your waist, steading you against him. Holding eye contact with him, you say, "I don't want you to keep your hands to yourself." 

"Fuck, you're going to kill me," he sighs, tightening his hold on you. You go to kiss him again, but when you do, he blurts out, "I don't have any STDs or STIs." His cheeks stain a little pink, and he looks as surprised by the declaration as you are. 

"That's good to know. I'm clean too," you inform him. 

"Good to know. I just thought it was important to put it out there. Got to do safety checks first and everything. I don't want us to have any questions or be unsure about anything, and it's important to consider all the factors involved with —" Jake's rambling comes to a halt when you dip your face into his neck, kissing at the underside of his jaw softly. 

"Jake," you say, linking your arms around his neck and playing with the short hair there. "Will you give me a baby?" 

"Fuck, Doll. I promise to give you anything you want. The ring, the house, the baby. It's yours." 

You don't waste any time kissing him. When your lips meet, all the hesitancy and nervousness that Jake had while you were talking melts away. His mouth confidently teases yours open for his tongue to quickly follow. Your hands thread into Jake's hair again as his start to roam your back, sides, and arms. When you wiggle closer on his lap, he groans and grabbing a handful of your ass, lifting you up. Jake stands easily and walks you back to the bed. 

He doesn't drop you on the bed like you're expecting. Instead, he sets you down gently, one of his hands cradling the back of your head as he does. Laying on your back with Jake standing over you reminds you just how large and broad he is. 

With surprisingly little fanfare, he pulls off his shirt and tosses it to the side. Jake shirtless is not a new sight; in fact, it's a tantalizing one you've seen too often. He has every right to be proud of his body, you know how much time he dedicates at the gym. So it shouldn't be a surprise that, never one to be self conscious, Jake hardly could be found wearing a shirt if the situation didn't require it. However, you realize this is the first time that you don't just have to look but can also touch. 

Wanting to get the nervousness of undressing out of the way, you sit up, quickly discarding your shirt and tossing it aside. Before you can shimmy out of your bottoms, Jake's large hands are on your wrists, stopping you. 

"You're doing my job," he chastises huskily. Jake is slow and meticulous in removing your clothes, running his hands over all the skin that's exposed to him. When he pulls off your bra, leaving you only in your panties, he just sits back and stares for a moment. Such intense scrutiny from his gaze has you covering your chest, crossing your legs, and looking away. 

"I wasn't planning on sleeping with anyone tonight," you mutter, knowing that you don't have the sexiest underwear on and perhaps were not as physically prepared for this intimacy as you would like. 

"Good," he says lowly. "No one else is going to get to see you like this anymore." Grabbing an ankle in each big hand, he spreads you out for him. He slides off your panties so you're completely bare, and takes up his staring once more. "Ain't you fucking gorgeous?" Jake mutters and you realize he ain't talking about you necessarily; he's talking to your pussy. Whining his name gets Jake to shove off his sweatpants, leaving him in a pair of dark grey boxer briefs as he crawls over your body. 

As he kisses you again, your hands greedily explore his exposed skin. His chest hair proving to be much softer than you had imagined it, and his shoulders are taut as he holds himself up. While Jake's lips move with yours, you use a leg to encourage him to ease more of his weight into you, seeking friction. Kissing down your neck he lavishes attention to your breasts, licking and sucking his way across your skin. 

"You know, I was too busy to make dessert," he says when he reaches your core. One of his hands teasingly traces all around the skin. Placing a kiss on your inner thigh, he asks, "Do you mind filling in?" 

"Jake, you don't need to." You say, trying not to squirm when his fingers dip between your lips. 

"I want to. Do you not want me to?" 

"I know it's not everyone's thing," you answer, giving him an out. 

"It's my thing," Jake says. His eyes lock onto the cleft of you, and he licks his lip, biting at the bottom one. Reaching up, he grabs one of your hands and brings it up to his hair, encouraging you to thread your fingers there. His fingers that are teasing you spread you open more, and he groans, "Oh yeah you're my thing." 

Jake's tongue traces over you, probing until he finds the spot that makes your hips jump. Once Jake finds your clit he doesn't waste his time. Widening his mouth, he latches on and sucks. While he starts gently, he ramps up to sucking hard and twisting his tongue as he does. When you pull at his hair, he moans encouragingly.

"More," you request tugging his hair gently. Jake listens, sliding a finger into you. Whispering praise into your thighs about how pretty you are and how good you taste. You don't know how long Jake spends between your thighs, but he doesn't seem to be in any hurry. He sucks and licks, fucking his finger into you until the sound is sloppy and wet. He slips a second finger in, stretching you, occasionally scissoring them wider open in you. 

Even when you are whining and gasping, working against Jake's tongue, he doesn't let up. You don't have the mind to worry how you're trying to suffocate him with your thighs, which he keeps pushing back open with no complaints. All that you can focus on is Jake, how good he is making you feel, and how close you're getting. It's a matter of time until you're shuddering and falling apart for him.  

Continuing to lavish attention even as you jerk with sensitivity, Jake seems content to keep eating you out. You try to pull him away by his hair, but he just licks into you harder. "Jake, enough," you whine, trying to wiggle away from his mouth.

 "I haven't had my fill yet, Doll," he says, pulling his mouth off you but not going far, pressing wet kisses to your thighs. 

"I haven't even seen your cock yet, and I don't know why it isn't in me." You say, trying to reason with him. It doesn't come out very strong, though as Jake's fingers curl in you, making your cunt flutter. 

"Patience is a virtue," he teases.

"Being virtuous isn't really at the forefront of my mind at the moment."

Jake sighs dramatically and presses one more kiss to your pussy before sitting back on his haunches. You can see the hard outline of him in his briefs as he gets off the bed. You watch his every move closely, more than ready to finally see him naked.

However, Jake is clearly taking some sort of joy from making you wait, because he detours to start picking up your hastily thrown clothing. As he is laying them out on the chair, you lose your patience. Grabbing one of his decorative pillows, you throw it at him. It smacks him between his shoulder blades before dropping to the floor with a thunk. 

Spinning to face you, Jake crosses his arms over his chest, making his biceps bulge, his eyebrow raised. "Did you just hit me with a pillow?" 

"No, I wouldn't do that," You deny trying to look innocent. Jake tsks at you, picking up the makeshift weapon and setting that neatly on the chair as well. 

"Being desperate for my cock isn't an excuse to misbehave, baby." 

"Big talk for someone who still hasn't shown it to me. It's okay if you don't have a pretty dick, Jake. It won't change how I feel. I'm still going to want you to fuck me."  

Goading someone into action was a wonderful tactic you had learned over the course of your friendship with Jake. Something he easily did with others, and something tonight that it proved was just as effective against him because he doesn't even respond to your words. Sliding off his underwear, his dick springs free. He's hard from eating you out, and just from the first glance you get, it's clear there isn't one thing for him to be self-conscious about. 

The fleshy pink length is nestled among dark hair, and the size of him is nothing to dismiss. It's a very symmetrical cock, lining up nicely with his balls and adonis belt. Bouncing a bit as he gets back on the bed, you can't bring yourself to look away. You know he is going to fill you so deliciously. When he's finally close enough for you to touch, you hesitate though. 

"Speechless?" Jake wonders, with no ounce of shame or self-consciousness present. 

"Can I touch?" You ask. Jake nods, taking your hand and bringing it to your mouth. You suck a few of your fingers in, wetting them with your spit. Then he guides your hand to his dick, encouraging you to wrap it around him. Jake's hand covers yours for the first few strokes, showing you what he likes, but then it falls away, letting you explore. He grunts when you trace one of the veins that runs along the side, following it down to cup his balls. He allows your teasing for a few more strokes before he pulls you close, kissing you hard. 

The hard planes of Jake's naked body pressed against yours is nearly too much. He is so close and yet not close enough. With some gentle maneuvering, Jake is in between your legs and checking that the position is comfortable for you. Jake runs his length through your lips, the head bumping into your clit. Despite all the encouragement and build up, he's still not in a hurry. When his cock is wet from you, it starts to slide effortlessly. Losing your patience, you cup Jake's face, making him look you in the eyes. 

"Jake, fuck me now. Please." You say. He nods, kissing you slowly. Then finally, he grabs his cock lining himself up and pushing the tip into you. When his pelvis meets yours, he holds himself there, your breaths mingling together in light pants as he stretches you out. The time he gives you to stretch and adjust is necessary, but once you have, Jake fills you deliciously. 

"How're you feeling baby?" He asks. Your thumb moves across his cheekbone, soothing until the worry lines between his eyebrows disappear. Only responding when you know you're okay and so is he, "Perfect. Feel so full of you."

"I'll fill you up," Jake promises. 

"Yeah?" You ask. He hums his agreement and rocks his hips against your experimental, drawing a small gasp from you. 

"Promise," he says, starting a lazy punctuated rhythm, moving his hips against yours. Your hands explore the skin of his back as he thrusts into you. You hike a leg up on Jake's hips, letting him get a little deeper in you. The action makes him moan, and he pulls your other leg up around his hip, too. 

Hooking your ankles together, you use the leverage to encourage Jake to fuck into you faster. Digging your heels into his ass and lifting your hips up to meet each of his thrusts increases the heat boiling between you. His face falling into your neck, Jake starts whispering dirty praise about how good you feel around him and how long he's been dreaming about this. 

Stamina clearly isn't something that Jake is lacking in. He fucks you until you are both dripping with sweat, and you are begging for him noncoherently, unable to process anything but how good his cock feels. He maintains a steady rhythm, snapping his hips to meet yours the whole time. 

"You feel so good. Want to get you there again. What do you need?" Jake pants huskily. 

"Harder," you answer shakily, snaking your hand to play with your clit. You're close, and you know it's not going to take much more for you to get there with how long Jake's been building you up. He listens, slamming his hips more pointedly into you, grinding his pelvis every time he bottoms out. 

Huffing, Jake pulls out of you a few minutes later. Making you cry out wantonly, reaching for his retreating body. He takes a moment to kiss both your hands that he unhooks from his neck. Then, shushing you gently, he grabs a pillow and lifting your hips, he slides it under them.

"It's okay, just a little better angle." He explains to you. You flop back on the bed, content to have Jake manhandle you any which way he wants if it means he'll be in you again.  

"Oh, you're such a needy thing, aren't you?" He asks, as your cunt clenches around nothing, empty and wanting him. His fingers dipping in to play with the wet dripping from you. A flash of shame passes through you as he asks that. You drop your arms that had been reaching out for him back to the bed, and you screw your eyes shut, turning your face to the side looking away from him. 

Jake had already got you to cum once, and it was possible he didn't want you all over him as he was trying to get off now. Preferences were probably something y'all should have talked about more in depth before jumping into intimacy. You didn't want him to think you were overly needy or hard to please. You didn't want to ruin what you and Jake could have the very first time together. Noticing the shift in your enthusiasm Jake immediately stops pressing his cock into you, worriedly asking, "What's wrong?" 

"Nothing," you answer, staring up at the ceiling looking for patterns there. It's easier to play this off if you don't have to look at him; easier if you don't have to acknowledge the unexpected, unwelcome swell of emotion that's overcoming you. 

"Doll, look at me." He orders you, but you shake your head, refusing. Jake grips your chin, tilting your face to meet his eyes. They are intense studying you intently, completely focused on you. "The honesty we just promised each other needs to extend to sex nearly more than anywhere else going forward with this relationship," Jake says seriously. His hard dick is pressed against your thigh, and you don't know how he's able to have such a level-headed conversation considering the circumstances, just having been balls deep in you a minute ago. "So, what's wrong?" 

"I don't want to be too high maintenance or needy," You sigh, trying to work through your words. Knowing this conversation is important, but also not completely sure how to express what you're feeling. "Sometimes I might seem needy, or maybe I could take a while to cum or not at all, which wouldn't be a reflection of you. I don't want you to think, well, I don't want to be too much for you to change your mind about this, and now I'm ruining the mood with a dumb fucking insecurity."

"Stop," Jake says gently, but leaving no room for argument. "You haven't ruined anything. I'm sorry I called your pussy needy. I didn't know it would make you feel this way. Can I tell you something, though, Doll?" When you give a hesitant nod, Jake's voice drops so low it's nearly gravelly. "I want you to be needy. I want your pussy desperate for my cock, desperate for my cum. I want you as desperate for me as I am for you." 

"You're desperate for me too?"

"Frantically and wildly so." He answers easily. Then he asks with his thumb ghosting over your nub, "Are we okay? Is this still okay?" 

"Yeah, this is good," You sigh, enjoying the zing that runs up your back when he nudges your clit more pointedly. 

Jake grabs his cock, giving it a few languid strokes before he guides it back into you. You push your hips up to meet him. The new angle that the pillow gives him leverage to hit somewhere that's just a delicious feeling. As he rocks into you, his thumb maintains its place on your clit. Your fear of the mood having been ruined proves wrong as the coil in your core quickly builds, pushing you near the edge once more. 

"Cum in me, Jake, please. Give me a baby," you request, your thighs quivering as you near your orgasm. 

As his hips snap nearly frantically, Jake rolls your clit over in nearly the same rhythm. He moans your name a minute later, falling over the edge and spilling inside of you. Though his hips stutter to a stop leaving himself fully seated in you, he continues working over your clit. It doesn't take long until you're dissolving into pleasure along with him. 

The ripples run through your body, and you feel every muscle tense and relax, turning into jelly. Jake grunts when you spasm around him but doesn't move or pull out until you've fully melted into the bed on the downward crest of your peak. 

When he does pull out, he doesn't go far, shifting enough to spoon you. Settling behind you, Jake pulls you close to his chest, wrapping you tight in his arms. His hand is tracing lazy patterns on your hip and occasionally venturing to the soft skin of your belly. You don't have the mind to be self-conscious at the moment, still a little too blissed out. It takes significant brain power to process his question when he asks, "Do you actually want to have a baby?" 

"Do you?" You wonder. 

"You can't answer a question with a question," Jake chastises you. Turning in his arms so you are sprawled against his chest, you snuggle close, nuzzling him affectionately. 

"Do you know how it was seeing you with Jackson today?" You ask him. 

"If it was even half of how it felt seeing you hold him, then I'm sorry." 

"Whatever you felt, double it. Triple it even." You say lightly. "It was enough for me to ask my friend, who I thought could never want me, for a baby." 

"I do want you," Jake immediately reassures you. 

"Thank goodness for baby fever, then. Because at least now we know we want each other," you reason, slowly starting to draw mindless patterns of your own against his skin. 

Jake heaves a sigh and strokes his hand down your back, wondering, "Was this just baby fever?" 

"No," you answer after thinking about it for a long span of silence. "I would have a baby with you. It seems right. I want that, I think." You can feel the relief in his body, hearing that, all his tension easing into relaxation. 

"Good," is the only response he gives you, kissing the crown of your head. You expect more but don't get it. Rather, Jake seems content to just bask in the afterglow. That doesn't seem to be too bad an idea, so you close your eyes, listening to his steady heartbeat.  

When you wake up from your impromptu nap, you're not alone in bed. However, you are now under the covers of a different comforter than there was before, and Jake is no longer acting as your pillow. He is on the other side of the bed, but his hand is stretched out, grazing the middle of your back. 

Rolling to face him, you admire the sight he makes stretched out on the bed, leaning against the headboard. Jake's got a book open, folded in half, clearly abusing the book's binding just so he can have one hand on you. When he notices you sleepily admiring him, Jake shoots you a soft smile. 

"Hey baby," he whispers. 

"Hi," You whisper back scooting closer to him and grab the hand that had been touching you, threading your fingers together. 

"Let's go on a date," Jake suddenly springs on you, squeezing your hand. 

"I would love that," you respond, feeling giddy as butterflies erupt in your stomach. "Want something first, though."

"I already told you I would give you anything you want, and I meant it," Jake says, setting his book on his bedside table and giving you his full attention. 

"Good, because I want round two and a shower, which hopefully has round three involved." 

"Your wish is my command," Jake says easily. You move even closer to him so your lips are only a breath apart. "I meant it, the ring, the house, the baby. I can make it all happen by tomorrow." 

"Let's start with breakfast in bed," you say, kissing him hard. When your lips hardly touch because you're both smiling too wide, well, that actually makes it feel all the better. 

[peachsukii]

What if reader was a new classmate and months went by before bakugou even noticed them? Maybe noticed them for the first time while training one day or something and he became infatuated with reader (NSFW please! I <3 your writing!)

oooooh this is a great prompt, thank you for sending it in!! and thank you so much, it makes my day when someone compliments my writing! 🔥✨

Cruel Compulsions

『 ♡ 』  k.bakugo x fem!reader ꒰ senior year of UA | aged to 18 | infatuated & pining bakugo ꒱ ⇢ as a new transfer from a neighboring hero academy to UA, class 3A welcomes you with open arms. you fit in with the class seamlessly, with the exception of one person - katsuki bakugo. he doesn't give you the time of day, ignoring you any chance he gets since he views you as an "outsider." at least, that's what he projects and not how he truly feels.

꒰ tags & warnings ꒱ 18+ MDNI Smut; masturbation, dirty/lewd thoughts, wet dreams, first-time handjob, first kiss (bakugo) | obsessively infatuated, mutual pining, hidden feelings, avoidant but horny bakugo, mean/aggressive toward reader's attention, awkward confession, sexually-forward and comfortable reader, friends to friends with benefits, fluffy ending ꒰ cross posted to ao3 | wc; ~2.4k ꒱ -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist

Bakugo's in the school locker room after the day's training sessions, left forearm against the wall of the shower to hold himself upright with his head hung under the water's stream. His mind is swimming in a sea of dirty thoughts as his right hand fists his dick - your body floating in the aforementioned sea.

He couldn't help it, you're gorgeous and beautiful spank bank material without even trying.

───

You surprised everyone when UA announced your transfer so late in the hero course. He immediately had judgements before meeting you. How did you manage to transfer during senior year from another academy? Would you need special privileges to catch up to the classes' progress? You were probably some rich bitch who had daddy's money buy your spot in the program.

That all crumbled the moment you walked through the door of class 3As homeroom, Aizawa introducing you to the class on a random Wednesday in the summer.

"Treat her with respect. She's a top student from her previous academy and can kick just as much ass as the rest of you."

Bakugo's heart stuttered in his chest, hypnotized by the way your bare thighs complimented the uniform skirt you're forced to wear. Your button up didn't leave much to the imagination in terms of your luscious figure, the front buttons ever so slightly strained over your chest to contain your breasts. His face was hot as he ogled you, unknowingly drinking in your features to commit them to memory. The feeling was foreign as he'd never been so attracted, let alone infatuated, with anyone.

It had been months since your transfer and Bakugo couldn't bring himself to have a conversation with you without wanting to explode, no pun intended. His palms would drip with sweat, ready to ignite at the slightest touch if you asked him a question or greeted him in passing. He'd gotten into the habit of averting his gaze, turning his back to you or simply removing himself from your space if you got too close.

"Don't worry about him," Midoriya commented regularly about his best friend's behavior towards you. "He's not much of a people person. He'll warm up to you when he's ready!"

Months of endless wet dreams, steamy thoughts and longing stares. Wherever you went, you clouded his vision and blocked out the rest of the world. He didn't understand why he was so enamored with you. He just...was. He kept telling himself it wasn't an obsession, just a stupid ass crush that will pass with time.

News flash - it didn't.

He - the Katsuki Bakugo - didn't have the courage to ask you out.

───

The training period was at the end of the school day, thankfully, and most of the others preferred to head back to their dorms to shower, leaving Bakugo alone in the locker room. He was free to moan and groan in peace, the steam of the hot water only adding to his shameless delight.

"Nngh, it's...not...fair," he moans to himself, barely above a whisper. His grip tightens around his cock, hand slipping and sliding at a brutal pace, eyes screwed shut to watch the raunchy movie play in his mind. Your lying in his bed, remnants of sweat from sparring across your bare tits and stomach. Your UA track jacket is splayed beneath you, the only other article of clothing being a pair of pink lace panties covering your center.

Why pink? He didn't know, you just seemed like the kind of girl to wear lacy underwear - well, he wished you were the type of girl who wore sexy panties, especially if it was just for him.

Your lips were parted in anticipation, flush creeping up your chest and neck as it settled across your cheeks.

"Katsuki, please...," you begged, fluttering your eyes up at him. It didn't take much for him to crumble, swiping your panties to the side and thrusting deep into your soaked pussy.

Like clockwork, Bakugo explodes, covering his hand in spend before getting to imagine fucking you. He can never make it to touching you in any of his dreams, you're always just out of reach or he finishes, cutting the scenario short. He rinses the evidence down the drain and turns the water temperature ice cold.

───

The next day, Bakugo sluggishly made his way to homeroom, running a few minutes later than usual. He rounded the corner on the third floor when he practically bumps into you, startling himself.

"Oh! Morning Bakugo, how are you?" you ask, a pleasant smile gracing your lips. He stares at them, assuming you'd just applied lip gloss with the way they shine under the hallway lights.

"Fine." Bakugo turns his eyes to the floor, stuffing his hands into his pockets nervously. There's a pause between the conversation and his first instinct is to shove past you and bolt for homeroom, but he doesn't.

"Can I ask you something?" you say as you grab his forearm to take him away from the stairwell. He recoils at your touch, ripping his arm from your grasp.

"Sorry, I shouldn't...forget it."

You're turning to head down the hallway when his anxiety quiets for a split second, allowing him to speak to you for the first time in months.

"No, wait...'m sorry. What is it?"

Bakugo's eyes haven't left the tiles on the floor, but something is telling him what you wanted to ask was important. You don't turn to face him when your shoulders droop.

"You're always running from or actively avoiding me. Did I do something wrong?" There's a sadness in your voice that makes his heart drop into his stomach. He was an asshole for not thinking how his actions would affect you, too focused on running away like a fucking coward instead of treating you like a person.

"No. You didn't do anythin' wrong," he mumbles, tapping his foot restlessly.

"Then why the hell can you not even stand to be around me?! You're the only person in the whole class who acts like I have the plague."

'Shit, shit, fuck! What do I even say?' Bakugo thinks to himself, thoughts racing to find some kind of excuse. The words bubble up in his throat faster than he can stop them from spilling out.

"It's 'cause I like you!"

Uh oh.

You whip your whole body around to face him, eyes wide with an eyebrow cocked in confusion. "...What?"

His mind is screaming 'run!,' but his body won't move.

Shaking your head, you start to laugh, relishing in the ridiculousness of the situation. He liked you, but had a case of the "eww cooties!" bullshit? Oh, if only you knew.

"I'm not gonna talk about this here, I'll come by your dorm after classes today. Okay?"

Bakugo finally meets your gaze, gritting his teeth to prevent any other unwanted confessions. "...'kay."

You give him a wave and head off toward the 3A homeroom down the hall, leaving him with his thoughts.

───

After class, you keep your promise and head to the fourth floor of the dormitories to Bakugo's room. One tap of your knuckles and the door swings open.

"Hey, still free to talk?" You ask, giving him a second chance to shoo you away.

"Yeah, come in." It was taking everything in him not to dart into the hallway and run until he couldn't anymore. He shuts the door behind you quietly. The latch barely clicks when he feels your hand on his bicep, your grip catching him off guard and causing him to stumble into the wall. Your body is suddenly in his personal bubble, chest pressed against his when your lips crash on to his.

'Is this really fucking happening?'

A surprised groan escapes Bakugo between the kiss, his hands flexing at his sides to keep himself together. He can feel the excess sweat begin to stain his palms.

You pull back with a smack of your lips. "Better?"

His mind was completely blank while simultaneously running at mach speed. How do you look so...stunning, all the time? He could feel the stickiness of your lip gloss on his lips - it tasted better than he imagined it would, a faint cherry flavor dancing on his tongue.

"Earth to Bakugooo!" you call, waving a hand in front of his face.

Bakugo violently shivers, his nerves catching up with the emotions flowing through his whole body.

'Don't be a fucking coward, Katsuki. Just do it!' He screams internally, urging himself to make a goddamn move.

"Oh shit, was that your first kiss?!" you yell, not able to fathom that he had never been kissed. "I'm sorry, I assumed -"

He grabs the back of your head, diving in to capture your lips once more. Time slows to a crawl as Bakugo maps out every inch of your mouth, savoring every second of the moment. Your lips are much softer and plush than he dreamed they would be, and if you weren't holding on to him, he was convinced he'd float away into the stratosphere. You can feel the sweat on his palms drip against the nape of your neck, but it doesn’t bother you. It’s warm, a honey-like consistency seeping into the fabric of your uniform.

He breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against your own.

"I would have assumed someone as hot as yourself would have a body count by now," you tease, tracing a light circle over his exposed collarbone.

"Shut up," he whispers shakily. "Was never interested in that shit."

"Fair enough, but right now, your body is telling me a different story."

You let your hand trail down his body, brushing against his clothed erection. Bakugo's entire body stiffens, all the muscles in his body turning to stone at the featherlight touch of your fingers.

"Tell me to stop and I will."

"No."

The answer is immediate, a growl swallowed by your mouths colliding once again. Your fingers trace the outline of the tent in his slacks a second time before mindlessly fumbling with his belt. His hands are occupied with grabbing your hair and waist to pull you as close as possible, all precaution on his side melting like putty in your hands. The adrenaline rush of it all was fueling the fire churning in his guts, practically high off your affection and you’ve barely touched him.

The belt clasp flops to each side as you maneuver your way through the buttons and zipper expertly.

'How the fuck is this happening right now?'

Your hand swiftly pulls at his slacks, enough to allow room to squeeze through the waistband of his boxers, your delicate fingers wrapping around his dick. It's throbbing, painfully so, and burning hot to the touch. Between sloppy kisses, Bakugo gasps as if it’s his last breath on earth, trembling beneath your palm. You thumb over the tip, using the pre-spend to glide your hand over his shaft. The moan that is coaxed out of him is deep and voracious, hungry for more of your touch. A lightning bolt strikes through your core, his ecstasy fueling your own desire as you continue to clash tongues with him.

“Your moans are so fucking hot, Katsuki,” you pant between kisses. “Way hotter than I ever dreamed they’d be.”

Oh god, you used his name. You’ve never said it before. And the first he’s hearing it is…like this? Bakugo’s rocketing toward orgasm at the thought of potentially hearing it again.

And again. And again.

Sparks are flying in his abdomen, an entire Fourth of July fireworks show erupting as he squirms beneath you. He’s interchangeably moaning and whining into your mouth, shuddering uncontrollably.

“Fuck, ‘m-mmph!”

He attempts to silence himself as he spills out all over your hand and in his boxers, endless ropes of white pouring out of him. You remove your hand from his pants, placing a peck to his cheek and walking into his bathroom.

What. The. Fuck!?

Bakugo’s in the afterglow of his orgasm, awestruck as he slouched against the wall trying to catch his breath. His chest heaved and thighs quivered - the fact that he was still standing was a miracle.

───

The two of you sat in silence on his bed, waiting for the other to start the conversation. He took a deep breath, turning to face you with blushing cheeks.

“I…never, fuck, sorry. I’m fuckin’ nervous,” Bakugo begins to explain, trying to compose himself. You tenderly slip your fingers in his, intertwining them in an awkward hold. It calms his nerves enough to continue.

“I didn’t understand this feelin’ at all. You show up outta nowhere and…knocked me on my ass. I’ve never experienced anythin’ like this and I…didn’t handle it well.”

“It’s alright, water under the bridge. For the record, I always thought you were hot,” you giggle, shooting him a wink. “You just kept running and didn’t let me hit on you.”

Of course Bakugo was his own worst enemy in this situation. He could see that clearly now as opposed to his previous blindness by a fierce case of infatuation. He smirked, finally letting his walls come down - brick by brick.

“I settled for kissing Kaminari one night instead.”

Your comment makes him choke on his own spit, sputtering out, “Y’kissed Dunceface?! When?!”

That gets you cackling, removing your hand from his as you fall back onto his bed. You’re holding your sides while Bakugo’s crossing his arms, nose to the ceiling at your reaction.

“Hah! It was months ago and only once. He cried after.”

Now he’s laughing, breaking his stoic facade. He’s somewhat taken aback by his own laughter, silently acknowledging how easy communicating with you turned out to be. You return to sitting upright and sigh.

“I’m sorry, too, for jumping you like that. We don’t have to talk about it, either.”

Bakugo fidgets with the hem of the comforter on his bed. “I said I didn’t want ya to stop, so don’t apologize.”

You smile, a rosy tint appearing on the apples of your cheeks. “I like you, Katsuki. I’m okay with doing this - no labels, fast or slow - while we get to know each other. No pressure, though. We could never talk again if that’s what you wanted.”

“I obviously like you too, idiot. Just be patient with me. ‘S all I ask of ya.”

“Deal!”

Bakugo leans over and kisses you, soft and slow, a way of him saying thank you. He’s unabashedly on cloud nine, glowing with newfound confidence, all thanks to you.

Did that stop his raunchy and taunting wet dreams in the coming months? Not even a little. He just has a better solution to his growing salacious appetite - you.

⋆ ˚ʚɞ — thank you again @bakubae-by for the prompt! 😊 tags; @slayfics

[heartsforhamzah]

hamzah al-emad x barista reader ˗ˏˋ☕ˎˊ˗

coffee kisses.

— hamzah started coming into the cafe you work at because his usual was closed for renovations. he wasn’t one to love change, but this also meant he wasn’t willing to give up coffee..

— the shop was small, and local. not many people came to this one as it was in a pretty secluded part of town, and most didn’t even know it had been built a few years back. the only customers you had were men who came in everyday hoping today would be the day you’d say yes to going out on a date with them, busy mom’s, or people like hamzah who’d just put “coffee shop near me” into their gps. the coffee was amazing, the pastries were to die for, and you could say that your customer service was great. 

— his order was simple, easy to remember, and he was major sweetheart who always tipped you much more than you thought you deserved. every time you saw his car pull up, the order was made to perfection and some sort of doodle was draw onto the paper cup.

— given he was extremely attractive, and his manners made his so much more enchanting, you were feeling bold. the shop was empty, your coworker was on break, and it was only you and the curly haired boy in the cafe. hamzah stood looking at his phone, waiting for his order as the machine was having some difficulties. you called his name, and handed him the cup which you had written “for my favorite customer”. hamzah thanked you, not even bothering to look at the cup until he had entered his car. the second he’d read that his mind was all over the place. had this cup been for him? who else would it be for? did you like him as much as he liked you?

— the next time he visited the shop, he’d finally worked up the courage to ask for your number. 

“could i have your number. im sorry if that’s weird.. it’s fine if not, i don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” he asked, shyly fumbling over his words.

“i’ve been waiting for you to ask,” you giggle. you handed him his cup with your number written on the side.

— the two of you would facetime, and hangout, first as “friends” but you both knew you’d never be “friends”. the mutual attraction that neither of you would admit was the elephant in the room, both of you too afraid it would scare the other off. 

— the second you got together, dating rumors were all over. not that you minded. you adored being able to call the brunette yours. your dumb videos posted about being a barista were suddenly viral and business at the shop was doing so well that you’d been given a raise. 

he would posting pictures of you in you’re uniform with the caption “barista of the year!!” 

— the kisses shared between you two tasted coffee-like and maybe that’s why you were so addicted to him. you were hooked onto his touch, you craved the feeling of his lips on yours. you both loved your “coffee kisses”.

tag list: @miaquesadilla @reeseisinapiece divs are by @/anitalenia , feedback encouraged

[h0neysp1ce]

Hi again!:) this is my first request<3

How would Childe fall in love?

Cԋιʅԃҽ ˣ Fҽɱ! Rҽαԃҽɾ

Summary: How would he fall in love with you?

���✩‧₊˚ Characters: Childe, Fem! reader Tags: Fluff, None Established relationship (beginning) Established Relationship (ending) Constellation: Drabble + Head canons Warning(s): None ੈ✩‧₊˚

A/N: First request from a Mutual! @lavandulawrites :) Hope you enjoy! 🌀🩵.

Word Count: 613

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🫧

It's a slow-burn type of love, starting with him falling in love with you.

The two of you began as friends- maybe even close friends. Childe fell harder as he started to realize his feelings for you.

It started off small, just the mere thought of being in the light you shed was constantly on his mind. Being in your light and warmth is something he wanted, even though, at first, he was honestly confused about what he was feeling. It didn’t take him long to figure out it was love.

Initially, he just wanted to hang out with you casually, like friends do. Then he began to notice small details- how you talked, how you laughed. He started seeing all of these aspects of you in a new light as he fell for you. <3

He gets a little shy, but not enough for you to notice right away.

Once he falls in love, he goes above and beyond to impress you, trying to gain your attention without admitting just yet that he's madly in love with you.

As his love for you grows, it becomes increasingly difficult for him to hide his feelings. Part of him might be afraid you don’t feel the same way, or there might be a multitude of other reasons only he can think of.

His loyalty extends to you in many ways; you are one of the people he is most loyal to. <3

He might spend a lot of time stalling or delaying being honest about his feelings for you.

When he finally gathers the courage to confess, he’ll ask you to meet him somewhere. He'll be somewhat nervous, but will ultimately come straight out with his confession.

He will be pleasantly shocked to find out you feel the same way, as he was convinced you only saw him as a friend.

You’ll know the relationship is going to be made official right then and there. With your permission, of course, he might ask if he can kiss you.

Being able to call you his fills him with immense joy and happiness. This man will love you for the rest of his life- he is that in love with you and remains dedicated and loyal to you. <3

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

Bonus  Head canons

Once this man falls in love with you, he might get easily distracted by you. No matter what you’re doing, simply being in the same room can capture his full attention.

He is very much mesmerized by you, and this feeling starts as he falls in love.

As mentioned before, he begins to notice small details about you that he hadn’t paid attention to before, wishing he had noticed them earlier. He will pay close attention to these details.

He memorizes or keeps a list of- your likes and interests. Whenever you mention something you enjoy, he takes note.

He’s the type of guy who will give you flowers when he confesses his feelings or when the two of you become officially together.

He kisses the back of your hand as a greeting when he returns from his duties  or any other work he might have.

He loves clutching your hand in his, giving it a squeeze every now and then.

He enjoys making eye contact with you and giving you his classic smile or grin.

He gives you goodbye kisses before he leaves for business and returning kisses when he comes back from his duties.

He has told you that he is one of the Fatui  Harbingers. Initially, he wanted to keep this a secret because of the potential dangers associated with it. He only kept it from you because he cares about your safety.

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

A/N: Hopefully I didn't mis - characterized him ^^" its been a minute since I last dug into his story and personality lol.

[croimilis]

King of My Heart

title: king of my heart

rating: 16+

characters: robert ‘bob’ floyd x pilot!reader (callsign ‘siren’)

words: 5.8k

themes: friends to lovers, idiot in love, fluff, mutual pinning

warnings: alcohol, cursing, minor injury detail (bruises, cuts), plane ejection, use of petnames (sweetheart), mentions of illness and parental death, mentions of needles, making out, mentions of anxiety

summary: "and all at once, you are all I want, i'll never let you go"

An accident during training and a little liquid courage has Bob finally making his move

tags: @sebsxphia​ 

a/n: part of the fly me to the moon universe. 

Falling in love with Robert Floyd was like standing in the eye of a hurricane, the world around you being torn apart at the seams and yet there is calm, serenity in the way he holds your hand when he’s nervous, in the way his eyes never leave yours when your talking, in the way he always makes sure to smile at you when you enter the room as a small way to say ‘hey, i’m here’ because he knows that despite your outgoing personality you can get overwhelmed in social situations and he wants to remind you that he’s a safe space where you can just sit in enjoy each other presence without committing to a conversation, in the way that he can read your body language and knows you better than yourself. 

Realising you were in love Robert Floyd was like walking through a soft spring rain, you don’t realise how intense it is until you’re soaked through to the core, until the feeling is so all consuming you can barely breath and you feel it seeping through your bones, setting every nerve on fire until it settles deep in your heart and you suddenly know that is love. 

It was five months ago that you realised you were in love with Bob, well, five months since your sister came to visit you at Lemoore and practically scolded you for not snatching Bob up because he was the perfect man. Five months since you insisted that you were just friends. Five months since he held you in his arms and let you cry your heart out over the fact that your fathers health was getting worse and you couldn’t be there. 

Five months since your sister looked at you watching Bob one night and said to you, “He looks at you like mom looks at dad” and you had never known a purer love than your parents. Five months since you looked over at Bob and saw him already watching you, that soft smile he reserved only for you on his face, and the realisation came crashing down that you were in love with Robert Floyd.  Five months since you decided you were going to do absolutely nothing about it, afraid of ruining the close friendship you had developed over the years. 

Bob thought the realisation that he was in love would be electric, like every nerve would be set on fire, he thought it would be like getting lost at sea and being swept under by waves over and over unable to catch his breath. He thought love should be wild and alive, coursing through his veins like it was adrenaline. 

But it wasn’t. It was peaceful and soft, seeping into the very fibre of his being, it was like being wrapped in a warm hug, of warmth and safety, of coming back to a warm house after walking through an endless storm, it was the feeling of you. 

Of holding you close to his chest when you curl up together during a movie night, of the sound of your laugh and the brightness of your smile, of how your hand slips into his and gives it a gentle squeeze to reassure him that you're there beside him during any event. 

It was two months ago that Bob realised he was completely and absolutely in love with you, two months since Phoenix practically smacked him across the back of the head when he started moping around the hanger when you told him you had a date (one you were going on in a half-hearted attempt to get over him) and explained to him why he was so upset about you going on a date. 

Two months since Bob looked over to you in the hanger, working on your own plane smiling and laughing with your wingmen, and he thought to himself that it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen with the way the sunlight filtering through the hanger danced across your body and made you glow so beautiful Bob could have swore you were a goddess incarnate, a flush spreading throughout his entire body with his heart thundering in his chest and the only thought flashing through his mind being, “I’m so in love you”. It was two months since Bob decided that he was going to take the realisation and the feelings and bury them deep inside himself, the fear of losing you as a friend overriding his desire to pursue you romantically. 

It was 12 hours ago that the world crashed down around Bob, 12 hours since he had last seen you. 12 hours since you had to eject from your jet after an engine failure and were admitted to hospital for a check-up to make sure you were okay, 12 hours since his heart almost beat out of his chest and anxiety swelled throughout his body to the point it was painful and he felt like he was going to throw up, bile forming in the back of his throat every time he thought of you being hurt and alone in the hospital. He knew you hated them, hated the clinicalness of it all, hated the fake smiles doctors and nurses held. But most of all he knew you hated the memories that came with them, of your grandfather and, most recently, your father hooked up to machines, their eyes and bodies lifeless as they finally lost themselves to their illnesses. 

He wanted to be with you, god he wanted to but Maverick had informed him no one was allowed in to see you and that you would only be in for a few hours while they ran some tests, some bloods alongside a CT and MRI to make sure you didn’t suffer from any internal injuries because on the outside you seemed completely fine, a few cuts and bruises from the landing but otherwise fine. Bob should have felt relieved at the news, but his anxiety only grew, despite being one of the best naval aviators that top gun produced and one of the bravest people he knew, he knew of your fear of needles and medical testing, again associating them with the failing health of your family members. 

The anxiety grew and grew throughout the day, turning from a sapling into a horrible monster that wrapped its claws around his heart and squeezed until he was sure it was going to stop, that wrapped a hand or tail around his throat and squeezed so tightly that he thought he was going to pass out because of his inability to breath. The worry planted itself in his heart and spread its roots throughout his veins until he could feel it in every fibre of his being, the heaviness of it making it hard to move until he suddenly couldn’t, as if the roots had spread from the veins in his legs and out through the soles of his feet and wormed their way into the ground beneath him, knotting over and over under the hardwood of the hard deck floors so it kept him anchored, unable to take even a step away from the bar where he currently sat, a bottle of beer in his hands and an empty whiskey glass to the left that he had finished within his first few minutes of entering the bar. 

Phoenix could see the tension in her back seaters shoulder’s, the way he sat hunched over with his eyes trained onto the grains of the countertops and how he was gripping the bottle of beer with all his strength (to the point she was afraid it was going to break in his hands), and it worried her. She had never seen Bob like this, not even when they flew the uranium mission did he hold this much stress in his body and she was concerned. To the point that she was quick to abandon the game of pool she was playing (and winning) against Hangman to go and see if he was okay. Which he obviously wasn’t if the way he jumped out of his skin when she placed her hand gently on his shoulder was any indication. 

“Hey, you okay?” 

As Bob’s nerves settle a little, the scare from Natasha’s sudden appearance dissipating and mingling with the anxiety already overwhelming his body, he puts the beer to his lips and gives a gentle nod. A nod that wasn’t all that convincing as Natasha raises an eyebrow and crosses her arms over her chest, showing she wasn’t leaving until he spilled. As Bob places the beer on the counter he sighs and dips his head forward a little so he’s once again staring down at the counter tops. 

“Jus’ concerned about Siren s’all.” As Bob speaks a little bit of his southern twang slips through, something he was usually careful about, but the small amount of alcohol seeping through his veins alongside the anxiety makes him long forget about hiding his natural accent, and if Natasha notices it she says nothing and just nods her head. Instead, she leans on the bar beside Bob, propping her chin in her hand as she does. 

“Hmmm… and that’s just friendly concern, right?” Natasha’s eyes watch Bob from her periphery, and she smiles as a blush spreads across his cheeks and some of the tension eases a little at her teasing, she didn’t really know how to help. She had never had a friendship like the two of yours, never had a love like what Bob held for you, but if she could take his mind off it for just a little bit then she could. 

“Of course… of course… just friendly concern.” Natasha smirks to herself as she watched Bob down the rest of his beer, it was one of only two times she had seen the WSO drink the other time being the celebration after the success of the uranium mission and even then he limited himself to just a couple beers over the many hours of celebrating but here he was a whiskey straight and a beer already finished in the space of 30 minutes. 

“Right…right.” A deep sigh falls from Natasha’s lips as she fully turns toward Bob once again, her hand still propped on her hand though now it was by her cheek instead of her chin. “You should tell her.” 

Bob eyes Natasha suspiciously, the tension eased a little bit more as he orders another whiskey and Natasha a beer, “Tell who what?” 

“Tell (Y/N) that you’re in love with her” 

Bob nearly chokes on his own spit at Natasha’s words, his face growing redder than it was before, though it's hard to tell if that was from the alcohol or his embarrassment. He knew that Phoenix knew he was in love with you, she had been the one to point it out to him after all, but this was the first time she had encouraged him to actually say anything. Clearing his throat, Bob begins to pick at the label of the empty beer bottle in front of him.

“I can’t do that…” Though his voice is quiet, Natasha still manages to hear him and she offers him a sweet smile and squeezes him on the shoulder gently. She knew his fears, knew he was scared of losing you but she also knew how you felt. Had seen the way you looked at Bobby (you were the only one allowed to call him that) like he placed the stars in the sky himself and was responsible for the rise and fall of the sun every morning and night, how you always looked at him like he was the most interesting person in the room even as he rambled on about the jets and his systems (something that put most people to sleep). She knew you were as hopelessly and desperately in love with him as he was with you. 

“Can’t do what Bobby?” Your voice surprises them both as they whip around and see you standing just behind them in your civies, your bomber jacket on and your aviators slipped into the neck of your shirt. 

The sound of your voice is like the whiskey he was drinking, warm and honey smooth as it warms its way into his heart and spreads a heat through his body that burns the roots of worry that had made a home in his body and the sight of you, healthy and alive with a smile on your face that is reserved only for him, turns the monster gripping his throat and chest into something soft and fluffy and warm and suddenly he can breath again and can move freely, feet taking him one step closer to you and then another and then another until he’s standing within arms reach and all he wants to do is reach out and pull you into his arms and never let you go until the world falls apart around him. 

“C-can’t handle my alcohol.” Bob lets out a nervous chuckle as Penny sets his second whiskey down behind him and rubs at his neck as Phoenix steps forward and takes you into a hug. 

“Glad to see you’re okay Siren.” 

“Thanks Nat.” Your voice is soft and there’s a little bit of strain to it, like you had been crying and your throat was still tender. To anyone else, it was the only indication you had been crying, your eyes bright and clear,no redness or puffiness around them. But Bob knew better, looked closer and could see the streaks that stained your cheeks no matter how much you tried to wipe them off. 

Natasha gives you one last squeeze and a peck to your cheek as she pulls away, eyes drifting between your form and Bobs with a small smile as she steps back, “We’re in the usual place if you're up for joining us.” As she turns to walk back towards the group crowded around the pool table in the corner, Phoenix mouths at Bob “tell her” and gives your shoulder a gentle rub as she passes by. 

You both smile at her as she walks away, eyes following her until she’s back with the rest of the squad before turning back to one another. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, all the stress and anxiety you had been harbouring all day bubbling to the surface once again and threatening to overwhelm you with tears once again welling in your eyes as Bob opens his arms up to you to bring you into an embrace. One you are quick to take, arms wrapping tightly against his torso and burying your head into his chest, taking deep breaths to try and try and stop the anxiety welling inside you, as Bobs wrapped his arms around your shoulder and places his chin on your head. 

As you took deep breaths through your nose, you’re overwhelmed with the scent of Bob. His cologne is almost over powering but underneath the sharpness is the smell of him, of engine oil from working on the jet all day and the lingering smell of cloves and cinnamon buried underneath the harshness of the engine oil. It was strange but it was grounding and in combination with Bob's strong arms around you, applying pressure in the right places, the anxiety inside you starts to slowly melt away. 

It starts in your shoulders, the tension in them all but evaporating as they droop a little and then it moves down your arms, a feeling of warmth spreading underneath your skin and through your veins as you feel your muscles relax, to your hands which spread themselves against the panes of Bobs back, and down down your spine, legs, and feet, as if it was dripping through your soles and into the floorboards below. 

You're so focused on your breathing, on erasing your anxiety and worries that you don’t notice Bob gently rubbing his hand down the column of your spine and him whispering in your ear that you were going to be okay, but that was more for his own reassurances than yours. The weight of you in his arms, the pressure of holding you against his chest, the scent of your perfume and shampoo invading his senses all serve as a reminder that you were alive, that you were standing in front of him and you were okay. It settled any anxiety that remained in his system. 

If Bob was being honest, he didn’t want to let you go, wanted to hold onto you for the rest of time. But he couldn’t, so instead he lets you go but keeps a hand on your arm as he leads you to the bar and moves it so it's sitting just between your shoulder blades as you lean on the bar and order a (preferred drink) from Penny, who gives you a sweet smile that lets you know she’s glad your okay and offers Bob a questioning glance as she notices the closeness between the two of you. 

It wasn’t unusual for you and Bob to be close, unless your training or on base the two of you were never too far from one another but you were usually the one to initiate any kind of affection, be it a hug or having a hand on his arm or shoulder as you stood next to him, and the affection from Bob wasn’t unwelcome, you relished in it and enjoyed it every time he initiated it. But something about this was different. 

It was soft and warm, and yet you could almost feel the desperation and fear behind it, almost as if you were going to disappear in a cloud of smoke between his fingers if he wasn’t touching you, if he couldn’t feel the sensation of your heart hammering against your ribcage (even if it's muted through your back). And if you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t so sure you wouldn’t disappear, even if it was just to an unwelcome headspace, if Bob wasn’t there grounding you to reality. 

Bob wanted to ask how you were, if you were okay, what the hospital said, but one look at the slight dissociation in your eyes and he drops the thought, not wanting to distress you any further, instead her lifts his glass of whiskey and downs it one go which causes your eyebrows to shoot up as you looked at him. 

“You okay Bobby?” The genuine concern lacing your tone sends butterflies coursing through Bob's body, his nerves tangling in his stomach until it felt like it was flipping over and over. You had your personal day of hell, and yet still found yourself worried about little old him. Bob loved your caring personality, he just wished you focused on yourself for once instead of other people. 

Bob is quick to nod his head and place the glass back down on the counter, the burn in his throat and the heat of the alcohol coursing through his veins a welcome distraction from how he had previously been feeling, as Penny places your own drink down on the counter in front of you, accompanied by a shot courtesy of Maverick which you are quick down. The burning sensation is welcome and your body already feels lighter as it makes its way through your bloodstream. 

“I’m good sweetheart” A blush spreads across your face, Bob had never called you sweetheart before and it felt so good coming from him, you associated the word ‘sweetheart’ with condescending men who thought they knew better than you or thought you owed them something, with them it was a weapon. A word sharpened at the edges and used to dig under your skin to cause annoyance or cause you to bleed for compliance. But with Bob, it was like whiskey, honey sweet and smooth, spreading a welcome warmth through your entire body. 

You wanna question him, wanna know why he called you it, but he’s ordering another drink before you can, seemingly doing it by complete accident, just a slip of the tongue brought on by the whiskey he had downed, so you leave it. Instead lift your drink, taking a small sip as you turn and lean against the bar while waiting for Bob's third whiskey to arrive before you join the rest of the crew. 

It's easy to find the rest of the dagger squad in the room of full of khaki uniforms, the tall forms of Rooster and Hangman easily standing out amongst the other aviators in the room, even if they weren’t the booming laugh of Rooster is loud enough for you to follow. You watch in amusement and the disbelief on Hangman's face and the pride on Phoenix’s as she stands from the pool table, she had obviously beat the tall blonde and you could see his mouth moving already demanding a rematch because there was no way in hell he was gonna let Phoenix have her win. 

You smile to yourself and take another sip of your drink, jumping a little as Bob places his hand on your shoulder to let you know he’s ready to head over to the others. Though he’s quick to remove it given your response, but you can still feel the warmth of it even through your bomber jacket almost as if it was scorching your skin. You shake the feeling off though and instead follow behind Bob as you head towards the usual pool table with a smile on your face, giving everyone a tight hug as they greet you. 

It’s three hours later that you move away from the crowd of aviators and towards a little corner to just watch them. You were a social person, enjoyed a good get together but sometimes things got a little overwhelming, a little too loud, a little too much and suddenly anxiety would crawl its way up your throat and take root and you would panic. You didn’t want that. Didn’t want to ruin people’s nights, especially with Maverick bringing his daughter in, just because you were a little anxious. So you took a step back, moved away from the source of the anxiety and attempted to soothe yourself.

Bob sees you’ve moved away from the crowd, he seems to be the only one who has noticed, the rest of the team too preoccupied with getting to know Mavericks daughter and so he was able to slip away and join you in your little corner. As he joins you, he notices your eyes are glazed over slightly and you look like your mind is floating a million miles away. He offers you a small smile and leans against the wall opposite you, content not to speak but be able to offer you some company, keeping you grounded to reality.

You offer Bob a soft smile and tilt your head towards the ceiling, taking a slow deep breath as you do to try and calm the anxiety that was threatening to boil over the surface. Bob reaches a hand out and runs it down your bare arm (your bomber jacket long abandoned and under the bar away from where it could get ruined), hands wrapping gently around your wrist before moving to lock his fingers with yours. 

The feeling is grounding, bringing you back down to reality before your mind can spiral completely and you're lost in the waves of anxiety. Your skin feels warm where Bob’s touch lingered and you can feel your palm heating up and almost becoming clammy as he brings it up and holds it against his chest where you can feel the gentle beating of his heart and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes in and out. 

What you don’t know is a similar feeling is brewing inside Bob, his thoughts spiralling a little as the thoughts from earlier returned. About how he could have lost you, how absolutely terrified he was over the fact he could have lost you, how his heart got closer and closer to shattering into a million pieces the longer he went without seeing you and how all the cracks seemed to heal over the minute he laid his eyes on your form when you arrived at the Hard Deck that night. 

You come back to reality, moved so you were no longer staring at the ceiling but instead looking at Bob only to see he was now floating away in his thoughts. You untangle your hand from his, placing it flat against his chest and giving it a gentle tap to draw his attention to you, “You’re floating away Bobby, everything okay?” 

Bob cleared his throat and shook his head a little as if that would help dispel the thoughts swirling around them before he replies. “I-I… fuck” With the way you were looking at him, eyes all soft and full of adoration he hadn’t seen before and how you moved your hand away from his chest and down his arm to take his hand in yours and give it a gentle squeeze to ground him much like he did you, he knew he needed to tell you. 

Bob was never poetic and he wasn’t very good with his words, with telling people how he felt about them. He knew what he was feeling, his mama made sure he was emotionally mature enough to identify his feelings, he just had a hard time vocalising them. This was no different, he knew he was in love with you. Had been for god knows how long before he realised it himself and he wanted to tell you. God, he wanted to tell everyone, wanted to climb to the highest mountain and shout it for the world to hear. 

But fear ate away at his heart. Fear that you would think he was weird, that you would withdraw from him, that you would hate him, most of all he feared losing you completely. He would much rather have you in his life as just a friend than lose you completely. But with the alcohol coursing through his blood stream, the fear ebbed away and what was left was an overwhelming desire to let you know. He wasn’t sure where it came from, if he was to rationalise it in his sober mind it would be the fact that you could have died when you ejected from the plane and then you would have ever known, your ejection serves as a reminder that seeing the next sunrise wasn’t promised and he didn’t want to die, or see you die, without you knowing how he felt. 

Bob's eyes dart from the floorboards to your face, your usual soft smile gracing your lips as you look at him questioningly, but never prying. You knew what Bob wanted to say was important, could see it in the tension forming in his shoulders and how the vein running along his jaw jumped, but you weren’t going to push. No, you trusted Bob and he trusted you, so you knew that it would come out eventually, be that five minutes or five years from now. 

As Bob's eyes reach yours, for a second he thinks he can see the love he has for you reflected back at him, the same love Phoenix had insisted you felt for him, and it spurs him on as he steps closer to you. Your breath hitches as he does, a flush spreading across your cheeks as he stops so close to you that you can feel the heat radiating from his body. 

“(Y/N)...I’m in love with you” The silence that followed Bob's declaration seems to go on forever, a pregnant pause as you let his words sink in. Your heart starts to flutter and your every nerve lights up, making you feel like you’re vibrating, heat spreads throughout your body as a flush turns your cheeks red. You're stunned, you never thought you would see the day where Bob Floyd loved you back, had convinced yourself it was impossible no matter what your sister had told you, but yet he does. 

As you stand in silence, letting the shock course through your system, you search Bob's eyes for any hint that he was lying. That it was the alcohol in his system making him say things he doesn’t mean, but all you find is truth and love. The same love you had seen in your dad's eyes any time he looked at your mom, the same love your sister had spoken about when she met Bob all those months ago. 

Bob takes your silence as a negative, the previous flame of confidence dwindling until it was nothing but embers burning in the pit of his stomach, suddenly he starts to stammer. Starts to say “You don’t-” going to tell you it was fine, you didn’t have to reciprocate his feelings that he just needed to tell you, but you’re quick to cut him off. 

“Bob! You place a hand to his chest, just over his heart and you can feel the beat of it against your palm and it feels like it's ready to break out of Bob’s ribs. Bob shuts his mouth tight, lips turning into a straight line, it had been a long time since you called him by his name, usually sticking with Bobby or even Robert when you wanted to tease him, keeping the name ‘Bob’ tucked away for when he was in trouble or you wanted his attention.

You step back a little, letting go of his hand in the process but keeping one on his chest, and throw your head back against the wall with a little huff of laughter. An action that leaves Bob speechless and confused, his mouth hanging open almost comically. Your quick to regain your composure and you tilt your head forward once again to look at him, tilting it to the side almost innocently. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh”

Bob shuts his mouth and gulps at the sincerity of your words, adam’s apple bobbing as he does. 

“I just… I have been dreaming about you saying those words for so long that it feels almost surreal to actually hear them” Bob swears his heart stops as he listens, you had been dreaming about this? The confusion must have been clear on his face, so you continue on. 

“I’ve been in love with you since our first days at Top Gun Bobby.” 

Bob stands like a gaping fish, mouth opening and closing as he tries to find the words to match your confession. After all he never thought he would get this far, thought you would run away at first mention of the ‘l’ word and yet here you are, loving him back. He’s drawn out of his thoughts once again by your voice.

“Bobby?” Your eyes are wide as you look up at him, and with how you have a hand on his chest with the other behind you to take your weight, you look the picture of innocence and sweetness and Bob can’t help but think about how he wants to absolutely ruin you, but that would be for another time. A new found sense of confidence, born from a compilation of your confession and the whiskey in his system,  previously not experienced by yourself and the other pilots left behind at the pool table drives him even closer to you. 

His hand reaches to grab at your waist, giving the flesh a gentle squeeze which forces a small whimper to fall from your lips, and the other ghosts against your jawline before settling on the corner of your neck. His chest presses against yours, he’s as close as he possibly could be and yet you want, no need him closer to you. 

Yeah sweetheart?” His voice is husky and just that little bit deeper than normal, the southern twang he tries so hard to hide slipping through and sending desire flooding through your bloodstream to the point you have to hold back the whimper that is desperately trying to make its way past your lips. 

“Kiss me…please,” your tone is pleading, almost begging and Bob swears it's the prettiest sound he’s ever heard and it sends desire fooding through his system. He wants to hear it again.

Instead of making you beg further, he tilts your chin up with the hand that was on your neck and slots his lips against yours in a gentle kiss. It's so soft and featherlight, leaving you desperate for more and after spending so long pining and wanting, you think you have the right to be greedy and demand more. So you remove your hands from behind your back and instead twist them around Bob’s shoulder, one hand tangling in the little baby hairs at the base of his neck as you push him in closer to you and deepen the kiss. Bob nearly moans at your eagerness.

The kiss is all tongue and clashing teeth, years of pent up frustration and wanting finally spilling over and showing itself, and Bob is gripping your waist so tightly you're sure there's gonna be some bruising tomorrow. 

You pull away from Bob, just barely with your lips still ghosting over his and your noses bumping into one another as your foreheads touch, with panting breath and lust blown eyes. Your hands travel down from the nape of his neck and across the expanse of his broad shoulders to lightly grab at the flesh of his upper arms that are exposed in his service uniform. 

“Take me home.” Your breathless from the kiss and adrenaline coursing through your system, with your words coming out barely above a whisper but Bob hears you and he moves his hand from your hip and neck to take your hand in his, using it to guide you through the sea of people now gathered at the Hard Deck. He stops at the bar and closes out both your tabs as you order an uber, not wanting to be driving even with the small amount of alcohol in your system. He guides you outside and pushes you against the exterior of Hard Deck, hands moving under your shirt to grab at the soft flesh of your waist as yours wrap around his neck and pull him down into another kiss and this time you don’t stop until the uber pulls up.

As the two of you make your way out of the Hard Deck, you miss the smiles from your fellow pilots (especially Phoenix) as they watch the two of you leave, giddy smiles on your faces and hands tangled with one another, happy to see you two finally getting together, and miss Hangman handing money out Phoenix and Rooster with a grim look on his face.

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Ch 16 - The Past Is The Eternal Past

Summary: Kate and Arthur welcome a new life into the world. The scene brings back tender memories of Arthur's past, he finally finds the courage to open up to her about his family.

Ao3  Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters  Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

A/N: So much fluff and feels!! This is day 2 at Emerald ranch, solid 8.3k words. Thanks for being patient with my updates, I know things have started to slow down. I'm hoping that in a few weeks I'll be able to get back to consistently posting again!

Tag List: @photo1030 @ariacherie @thatweirdcatlady @ultraporcelainpig @marygillisapologist @eternalsams

**please let me know if you would like to be tagged in future chapters!

Story Tags: Widowed, Original Character(s), High-Honor!Arthur Morgan, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby!Arthur Morgan, Canon Divergence, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Sex, Eventual Romance, Emotional Sex, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort,Touch-Starved, Sexual Tension, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Infant Death, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Torture, Blood and Violence, Survivor Guilt, Aftermath of Torture, Caretaking, Injury Recovery, Period-Typical Racism, Anxiety, Self-Hatred, Night Terrors, Emotional Constipation, Self-Doubt, Men Crying, Bathing/Washing, Sweet/Hot, Romantic Angst, Romantic Fluff

Arthur drifted into a peaceful slumber, a rarity in the tumult of his existence. It felt as if he had never experienced such peace before, as if the world had paused just for him. Seamus' small ranch house offered no spare room, yet Kate, with her selfless nature, offered to sleep on the couch for Arthur's comfort. But he politely refused, urging her to share the bed with him, a sanctuary meant for two souls to find sleep in each other's embrace.

As they kissed and conversed late into the evening, the storm outside began to wane, its fury subdued by the soothing melody of raindrops dancing upon the roof. Their words mingled with the gentle winds, weaving a blanket of intimacy that cocooned them in warmth. Wrapped in each other's arms, Kate held him close, her embrace a shield against the uncertainties of the night. With his head nestled beneath her chin, Arthur found refuge in her presence, his breathing synchronizing with the rhythm of her heart. And as sleep finally claimed him, she tenderly caressed his hair, her melodic hums blending seamlessly with the whispering wind and the gentle creaks of the old house. The smell of the bath still lingered on his skin, and she could hear his gentle snore, soon Kate found herself slipping into deep sleep.

As the morning sun filtered through the mesh curtains, casting a golden glow into the room, Kate stirred from her slumber. The distant call of roosters heralded the arrival of dawn, their voices resonating loudly in the air. Yet, despite the warmth of the sunlight, a chill swept over her as she realized the space beside her was empty, void of Arthur's presence.

With a languid stretch, Kate rose from the bed, her movements fluid as she dressed herself. She resolved to seek out Arthur, knowing well his penchant for being useful and tackling the early morning chores. She savored a quick breakfast, the aroma of freshly cut strawberries mingling with the crisp morning air, before setting off on her search.

Her footsteps echoed softly in the quietude of the barn, the scent of hay and animals enveloping her in familiarity. And there, amidst the rustic charm of the wooden beams and the soft whinnies of the horses, she found him, just as she had anticipated. But what captured her attention was the tender scene unfolding before her.

Arthur stood beside Dolly, the massive mare, his presence calm and assured. He gently coaxed her to eat from his hand, his other hand gliding smoothly down her snout and neck in a gesture of reassurance. The sunlight streaming through the barn’s wooden slats highlighted the tender scene, casting a warm glow on their interaction. Arthur's voice was a soft murmur, whispering soothing words to the horse, his touch both gentle and firm, embodying a patient strength.

Kate watched in awe, her heart swelling with admiration for Arthur’s ability to connect with the mare. Every movement he made was deliberate, a testament to his respect for the animal. The way Dolly responded, bowing her head and accepting his touch, spoke volumes of the trust he had earned.

A soft smile played on Kate's lips as Dolly greeted her with a friendly nicker, the mare's ears acknowledging her presence with a flick. “Good morning,” Kate called to them, her voice breaking the serene silence of the barn. “Seems like she’s takin’ a liking to you.” She stepped into the stall, her gaze fixed on Arthur.

“Mornin’ sweetheart,” Arthur greeted her, enveloping her in a warm embrace as he wrapped an arm around her waist and placed a lingering peck on her lips. They tasted like his morning coffee. His touch was filled with affection, and Kate blushed, the warmth spreading from her cheeks to her chest—a sensation she was still getting used to.

Kate leaned into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck as she stretched up to meet him. “Was a tad surprised I woke to an empty bed this mornin’,” she whispered teasingly, her eyes sparkling with playful mischief. Tipping his hat back slightly to give herself better access to his features.

Arthur grinned at her insinuation, his deep blue eyes filled with admiration. “I’d love nothin’ more than to lay in all day kissin’ a pretty lady,” he said in a low, tender voice. With a soft sigh, he added, “But there’s work to be done. ‘Sides, I think Miss Dolly here is havin’ her baby today.”

Kate’s brows shot up in surprise, and she turned from his arms to evaluate Dolly’s condition. Sure enough, the mare was showing early signs of labor. Her belly contracted softly, and milk leaked from her teats. “Well, I’ll be,” she said quietly, a smile spreading across her cheeks as she rubbed the mare's belly affectionately. “You ever delivered a foal before, Arthur?”

Arthur’s grin widened, a mix of excitement and apprehension in his eyes. “Can’t say I have, but I reckon there’s a first time for everything,” he replied, rolling up his sleeves. “Guess I’m in for a lesson today.”

Kate chuckled softly, her hand still gently rubbing Dolly’s belly. “I’ve done it a few times, long ago back on my family’s farm. We just need to keep her calm and be ready to help when the time comes.”

Arthur nodded, his expression serious yet eager. “I’ll follow your lead, then.”

The two of them worked quietly together, their actions synchronized as if they had been doing this together for years. They took turns feeding the other barn animals their breakfast, ensuring they had fresh water and clean stalls. The morning was filled with the soft sounds of munching hay, clucking chickens, and the occasional grunt from the pigs as they discovered fresh mud puddles left by the storm.

Periodically, they checked on Dolly’s progress, making sure she was comfortable as her labor advanced. Each time Arthur approached the mare, he spoke to her in soothing tones, his hands gentle and warm. Kate watched him with admiration, her heart swelling with affection for this man who had become her partner.

They exchanged smiles and glances as they worked, falling into a rhythm that felt as natural as the breeze blowing around them. The storm had left the grasses glistening with dew, the air fresh and crisp. Sunlight filtered through the barn’s open doors, casting warm, golden patches on the ground.

As the afternoon approached, they sat together on a wooden crate outside of Dolly’s stall, sharing a simple meal of bread, cheese, and apples. The air was filled with the scent of fresh hay and the earthy aroma of the barn. Kate leaned back against the barn, her eyes half-closed as she enjoyed the warmth of the sun on her face.

“This feels good,” Kate said quietly, breaking the comfortable silence. “Sittin’ here with you, takin’ care of things. Feels right, don’t it?”

Arthur turned to her, his smile soft and genuine. “Makes me wish we could do this every day,” he chuckled, taking a bite of his apple.

Kate could hear the subtle longing in his tone. Arthur craved a simple life, yearning for it amidst the chaos of his existence. His situation was unique, tangled in a web of crime and infamy that made it impossible to simply run away and start anew. He was wanted in every state, raised on a life of crime and rebellion. Kate knew it wouldn't be easy to break him from that cycle, but she hoped this was a start. Sowing the seeds of domesticity and honest living into his heart, she dared to dream that one day he might leave the gang and take the reins of his own life.

Arthur gazed out over the plains, watching the horses and cows grazing peacefully. The sight seemed to soothe him, the simplicity of the scene a stark contrast to the life he led. Kate watched him, admiring the way his side profile was illuminated in the afternoon glow. The sun cast a warm, golden light on his rugged features, highlighting the sweat glistening on his cheeks. His eyes, shadowed by the brim of his old leather hat, were filled with a longing.

Kate let her thoughts drift, imagining a life where they could find peace together. She envisioned a small farm, nestled in a quiet valley, where they could wake up each morning to the sound of birdsong and the gentle rustling of leaves. She pictured Arthur working the fields, taking care of the animals and while she maintained their home. Daring to dream of a family again, perhaps even children someday, she thought. She shook her head at the idea, getting ahead of herself. But in the back of her mind, they lived a life of simple pleasures.

Kate reached out and placed her hand on Arthur’s arm, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips. “Maybe one day, we will,” she said softly.

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The sun was kissing the horizon as Dolly eased herself down into the soft hay, finding a comfortable spot to lie on her side as her instincts took over. The mare's heavy breaths mingled with the sounds of the barn, creating an atmosphere of anticipation and gentle urgency. Kate and Arthur remained close by, their presence a comforting reassurance for the laboring mare.

Kate settled near Dolly's head, her fingers moving soothingly along the mare's neck. She whispered calming words, her touch gentle, ensuring Dolly felt secure. The warmth of the barn and the scent of fresh hay enveloped them, creating a cocoon of calm amidst the imminent arrival.

Arthur leaned against the wall of the stable near Dolly's rear, his eyes focused and attentive. Ready to inform Kate the moment the foal's feet appeared, he prepared himself to leap into action when Dolly showed signs of struggle. The tension in the air was thick, a mixture of concern and excitement as they awaited the new life about to enter the world.

Kate’s voice, calm and steady, broke through the quiet hum of the barn. “When the foal’s legs are out past the first joint, grab hold and tug gently,” she instructed. “But only when Dolly pushes. We don’t want to hurt her or cause any tears. Just enough to help the baby along.”

Arthur nodded, leaning down on one knee, his hands steady and ready, heart pounding with anticipation. He admired Kate’s calm authority, her knowledge and experience guiding them through the moment. His respect for her deepened.

A memory crossed Arthur’s mind, transporting him back four years ago to when Abigail had gone into labor with Jack. The scene was etched vividly in his heart. Arthur knew he could never make up for missing the birth of his own son, so when little Jack came along, he resolved to support Abigail in every way he could. John’s refusal to accept the child as his own infuriated Arthur. It angered him that John wouldn't even step in to help Abigail in her time of need.

He recalled how the girls had spoken softly and encouragingly to Abigail, their voices a lifeline amidst the pain. It was much like how Kate now spoke to Dolly, a soothing murmur that went beyond species, connecting mother to mother. The memory of Abigail’s grip on his hands, fierce and unyielding with each contraction, came flooding back. Arthur had known then that Abigail was far stronger than she ever let on. Her cries and grunts had filled the night, and Arthur had been there, wiping the sweat from her brow, rubbing her back and even holding back her legs when exhaustion threatened to consume her. It was an experience that solidified his connection to the girls, he was and always will be their protector. 

A profound guilt gnawed at him when he thought about what Eliza must have gone through, alone. The thought of her enduring the pain of childbirth without him there to support her was a wound that never fully healed. But that feeling had been momentarily washed away the moment Jack took his first breath, followed by a triumphant cry as if announcing, “here I am, world!”

Arthur remembered the overwhelming rush of emotions that had washed over him as he left the tent to give the new mother some privacy, but also to hide his empathy. Silent tears had flowed freely, a mixture of joy for Jack’s healthy birth and sorrow for the child he had forsaken.

The minutes stretched on, each one filled with the soft sounds of Dolly’s labor and the reassuring presence of her human companions. The barn was a world unto itself, a sanctuary where the outside ceased to exist. It was just them, Dolly, and the new life beginning to make its entrance.

As Dolly pushed, Arthur saw the tiny hooves begin to emerge. “Kate, I see them,” he called softly, his voice laced with a mix of excitement and anxiety.

Kate moved slightly, her focus sharpening. “Alright, Arthur. Remember, only when she pushes.”

With careful precision, Arthur followed Kate’s instructions, his hands grasping the foal’s legs gently. He waited for Dolly’s next contraction, feeling the tension in the air heighten. When the mare strained, he pulled gently, his movements synchronized with her efforts. The foal's legs felt incredibly tiny and fragile in his hands.

Time seemed to slow as they worked together, a seamless dance of trust and cooperation. Dolly’s powerful contractions and Arthur’s careful assistance brought the foal further into the world with every moment. Kate continued her soothing ministrations, her voice a constant source of comfort for the laboring mare. She guided Arthur through her contractions, telling him when to stop pulling and when to grab further up the body as it slowly came into the light. 

Finally, with a final, triumphant push, the foal slid free, landing in the soft hay. Steam rising from its warm wet body as it blinked its large blue eyes for the first time. Arthur’s breath caught in his throat as he marveled at the tiny, fragile creature now lying before them. Kate moved quickly, joining beside Arthur as her hands helped clear the foal’s airways and stimulated its breathing.

Dolly turned her head, her large eyes filled with maternal instinct and curiosity. Kate guided the foal closer to her, ensuring the bond between mother and baby was immediate and strong. The foal, a beautiful chestnut brown with a black mane and light blue eyes, shared the distinctive white stripe down his snout with his mama. As he nuzzled against Dolly, searching for his first meal, Kate and Arthur exchanged a glance filled with shared joy and pride.

Arthur couldn't take his eyes off the tender scene before them. Wiping his dirty hands on his jeans, he sank back down into the hay, releasing a satisfied exhale. “I reckon he’s gonna be a fine young colt someday,” he said with a smile. “We’ll have to come visit him when he’s older.”

Kate giggled softly and slid down to sit by his side, their arms brushing together. She leaned her head gently on his shoulder, feeling the warmth and comfort of his presence. “Oh absolutely,” she agreed, her voice filled with affection. “You wanna name him?”

“Me?” Arthur’s voice raised with a hint of surprise.

“Well, you are the one who delivered him,” Kate assured, her eyes twinkling with encouragement.

Arthur thought for a moment, his mind wandered to the nights he spent recovering, when the fever ravaged his body. He recalled the night Jack had read to him, a story of adventure and friendship that had brought him comfort during those long, painful nights. A smile crept onto his lips as the perfect name called to him. “How ‘bout Huckleberry?” he suggested, his voice soft and thoughtful.

Kate’s eyes lit up. “Huckleberry,” she repeated, tasting the name on her tongue. “I love it. It suits the little guy.” She grinned from ear to ear, memories of Jack’s kindness during Arthur’s time of need made her heart surge with warmth. Especially since Arthur remembered the moment too.

Arthur’s smile widened, a sense of pride swelling in his chest. “Good ol’ Huck,” he said, wrapping an arm around Kate. They watched the little foal as he suckled contentedly. His tiny black tail swishing reverently. “He’s gonna be a brave one, ‘specially if he takes after his ma.” He chuckled.

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As evening settled upon Emerald Ranch, the golden hues of the setting sun painted the sky, casting a gentle glow over the fields and buildings. The ranch was tranquil, the storm's remnants now only a memory. Kate and Arthur worked side by side, diligently completing the day's chores to ensure everything was in proper order for Seamus and his family’s return the following morning.

They mucked out the stalls together, the sounds of their shovels mixing with the soft murmurs of the animals. Arthur's returning strength and Kate's efficiency made the work go quickly, their coordination spoke volumes of their growing bond. They fed the animals, the barn filling with contented munching and occasional snorts. The simple tasks brought a sense of normalcy and domesticity. Kate hummed a tune and Arthur whistled quietly as the two worked together. 

With the chores done, they found themselves back in Dolly’s stall, the heart of their day’s labor. The soft light from the lanterns cast a warm glow on the new family, highlighting the tender scene before them. Dolly lay in the hay, her eyes half-closed in contentment as she watched over her newborn foal. Huckleberry, the beautiful chestnut filly with his striking blue eyes, was beginning to explore his surroundings. Sniffing about and attempting to stand on his skinny legs.

Kate and Arthur settled down in the hay once more, their shoulders touching as they sat close together. The warmth of Arthur's body was comforting against the coolness of the night. Kate leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder as they watched the foal with shared anticipation. 

“Look at him,” Kate whispered, her voice filled with awe. “He’s so full of life.”

Arthur hummed quietly in agreement, his hand resting gently on Kate’s thigh. His thumb traced lazy, comforting patterns over the fabric, grounding him as he watched the tender scene before him. Huckleberry wobbled, his little knees buckling under the weight as he adjusted to standing on solid ground for the first time.

With a gentle nudge from Dolly, the foal stood up proudly, his legs straightening as his mother’s large snout supported him. Kate held her breath, her eyes filled with hope and encouragement. When Huckleberry took his first tentative steps, only to plop back into the hay with a soft grunt, she chuckled warmly. “Keep tryin’, Huck, you’ll get there,” she quietly encouraged.

Arthur was transported to another time, another life. He thought of Isaac and the milestones he had missed. Eliza had been kind enough to write to him about their son's progress, telling him how Isaac had taken his first steps and would soon be running around the house. She had always ended her letters with a plea for Arthur to visit them, to stay. Her hope and prayers that he might one day choose to abandon his life of crime weighed heavily on him now, adding to the regret that he carried.

The tenderness of the moment with Kate and the foal stirred something deep within him. He felt an overwhelming need to share his burdens with the one person he felt truly understood him. Perhaps Hosea’s words held some truth. Kate had remained by his side through the worst, and this moment felt right. 

Arthur’s heart pounded relentlessly in his chest as he mustered the strength. “Kate,” he began softly, shifting his position so he could look her in the eye. “I had a son.”

Kate’s eyes widened slightly in shock at the sudden news. Arthur drew a shaky breath and continued, “He passed away, long time ago.”

Kate gently took his hand, her expression shifted to one of deep sympathy and understanding “Oh Arthur, I’m so sorry for your loss.” She was inclined to believe there was more to this outlaw than meets the eye, his gentle and reserved nature foreshadowing a past similar to her own. The loss of a child connected them in ways she could not have imagined, and her heart ached for the man she was only beginning to discover.

“I know I shoulda told ya sooner. It’s just—” he hesitated, the words catching in his throat. “It’s just hard to talk about them sometimes.”

Kate nodded, her eyes never leaving his. “You told me when you felt it was right, Arthur. I know it’s probably been on your mind now for some time.” She thought of all the times she had talked about her daughter with him, knowing now that he must’ve been thinking of his own child in those moments. Unsure how to tell her of his own loss, she knew it must've scarred him deeply. Arthur nodded quietly.

Understanding washed over her, and she suddenly grasped the depth of the bond between Arthur and Jack. Abigail trusted Arthur with her son because he once had a son, and he had extended that parental love to his nephew. He sees his son in Jack, and Kate knew from their first interaction that he had a protective aura that only a father could provide.

“That must have been very hard for you and Mary,” she continued softly, moving her hand to his cheek. Her touch was warm and soft, it eased his wounded heart.

Arthur leaned into her touch, closing his eyes with a sigh. He knew he couldn't talk about Isaac without mentioning Eliza. “No, he wasn’t Mary’s kid,” he began, his eyes searching hers for understanding. “It was a different girl. Met her in a bar one night, and next thing you know...” He shrugged his shoulders, he knew it was taboo to have a child with a one-night stand but Kate made no judgment. “But she passed away too.”

“What are their names?” Kate asked gently, surprising Arthur with her question. She didn’t ask how they died, and he was grateful. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to relive that part of his past yet. Talking about them as if they were still around eased his heart.

“Eliza and Isaac,” Arthur breathed the names like a prayer on his lips. “I don’t much like talkin’ about them. The grief, I still don’t understand it. Even after all these years.” His voice was thick with emotion, the weight of his loss pressing down on him like a heavy shroud.

Kate nodded, her eyes filled with empathy. “Grief ain’t meant to be understood,” she said softly. “It’s meant to be felt, lived through, and carried with us. It shapes us, but it doesn’t have to define us.”

Arthur chuckled dryly, a bitter edge to his laughter. “Wish I had that wisdom sooner. Their deaths hardened me, turned me into a man I couldn’t recognize.” His gaze drifted away from her, shame creeping into his belly as memories of his drinking and fits of rage swam back to the surface. He remembered the nights he spent at the bottom of a bottle, trying to drown out the pain, and the mornings he woke up with fists clenched, ready to fight the world.

Kate’s light laughter pulled him from his dark thoughts, like a soothing melody. “Death hardened me too. I mean, take one look and tell me. Do I still look like a picturesque housewife to you? Certainly not.” She chuckled, a sound so full of life and resilience it made Arthur’s heart ache. It mattered not how proper she looked to the rest of the world, to him she was just perfect. 

“I miss my family dearly, but nothin’ I do will bring ‘em back. So I just keep movin’ forward, trying to do right by them, be a good person for their sake,” she added, a small reassuring smile spreading across her lips. “But you know, it wasn't always like that,” her eyes glimmered with a mix of sorrow and conviction, the strength of a woman who had faced unimaginable loss and emerged stronger for it.

Arthur was in awe of the way she could talk about death and grief, turning it into something positive. To take the torment and break it like a bad horse, polishing it down to what it really was: love. His grief and regret may have looked ugly on the surface, but beneath it all, it was an overwhelming love with nowhere to go. Kate had found a way to channel her love into something beautiful, a tribute to those she had lost.

“How did you do it?” Arthur asked quietly, his thumb tracing the knuckles of her hand, seeking solace in her touch. His voice was a whisper, filled with the raw vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show. 

Kate sighed softly, her eyes reflecting the depth of her own pain and resilience. “Well, it wasn’t easy,” she began. Arthur recalled the night she had shared her past with him, the way her voice trembled with rage and agony as she recounted the woman she had chosen to leave behind. The woman who had faced unimaginable loss and yet stood before him, stronger than ever. “I struggled on my own for a long time. And even when I thought things were getting better, grief would sneak up on me once again.”

Arthur listened intently, his heart aching for the pain she had endured, a pain that they now shared. He could see the flicker of old wounds in her eyes, the shadows of memories that still haunted her. But there was also a strength that shone through the darkness.

Kate continued, her voice steady but filled with emotion. “Eventually, I learned that it can’t hurt me, so I stopped fighting it. I let it come. I feel that pain, but I don’t let it take hold of me.” She paused, her gaze locking onto his with an intensity that made his breath catch. “I let it wash over me, and then I let it go. Because I know that the love I have, the love I’ve lost, it’s all a part of me. And I had the choice to do something good with it.”

Arthur nodded, absorbing her words. “I carry a lot of regret with me,” he admitted, his voice heavy with the weight of his past. “I wish I knew how to feel it without it taking hold of me.”

“It’s a form of self-punishment, Arthur,” Kate said softly. “You can either suffer the pain of regret, or learn from your past and move forward from it.”

He looked at her with hopeful eyes, each flicker of self-doubt met with her unwavering reassurance. Her words gave him a sense of peace and clarity he had longed for years. Hearing it from her lips healed something deep within his heart. For the first time, he dared to believe he could move on from his past.

They sat in companionable silence for a bit, the quiet moments filled with a shared understanding that spoke louder than words. Arthur gently brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, and Kate responded by peppering a few tender kisses against his rough lips. His troubled memories of loss were met with the warmth of her affection, earning a light smile that softened his features.

“Will you tell me about your son?” she asked suddenly, her voice curious but gentle. She gave him the choice, leaving the door open for him to decide if he wanted to open up.

Arthur took a deep breath, his gaze distant as he collected his thoughts. “Isaac,” he began, his voice wavering slightly. “He was a bright kid, full of curiosity. Always askin’ questions, always wantin’ to learn. Eliza used to say he’d grow up to be a scholar or somethin’.”

Kate listened intently, her heart aching for the pain she could see etched in his eyes. She reached out and took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “He sounds like he was a wonderful boy.”

Arthur nodded, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “He had this smile that could light up a room,” he said, thick with emotion. “Loved animals, just like his old man. I remember one time, he found this injured bird. Brought it home and insisted on takin’ care of it. He and his Ma nursed it back to health, and when it was strong enough to fly, he let it go. He was so proud of himself.” Arthur didn’t mention that he was absent for most of these stories, only knowing the details through Eliza’s letters. 

Kate’s eyes shimmered with warmth as she imagined the scene. “He had a kind heart, just like you.”

Arthur chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I don’t know ‘bout that, but he was good. Better than I ever was.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of Arthur’s words hanging in the air. Kate reached out and gently wiped a single tear from his cheek, her touch tender and comforting. “Thank you for sharing him with me, Arthur. I know how hard it can be to lose a family, and I’m proud of you for how far you’ve come.”

Kate’s words encouraged more silent tears, he quickly wiped them away. Clearing his throat in an attempt to regain his composure. “He was a real good kid. Just wish I had more time with him.”

“I do too, honey.” She said softly, almost motherly. Her thumb tracing his jawline in a comforting gesture.

Arthur breathed deeply, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. “But it helps, talkin’ ‘bout him. Keeps his memory alive.”

Kate nodded, her heart swelling with love for the man beside her. “And I’ll be here, whenever you need to talk about him. Or anything else.”

Arthur leaned in and kissed her softly, his lips conveying the depth of his gratitude and affection. “I’ll remember that, Kate. Thank you.”

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Later that evening, the newly coupled pair found themselves back in the cozy confines of the little ranch house. The day's labor left them both weary but content. Kate prepared a simple dinner of rice and chicken while Arthur freshened himself up. The aroma of the meal filled the house, mingling with the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth. After dinner, they made their way to the bedroom, savoring every moment of their last night together away from the gang, the world of outlaws, and the endless running. For one more night, they were just a couple of simple ranch hands.

Arthur sat on the edge of the bed, his shirt unbuttoned, and the bandage wrap over his shoulder wound removed. He rolled his arm uncomfortably, the day's labor catching up to him, bringing a throbbing sensation and the familiar tingling in his fingers.

“You alright?” Kate asked softly, unplaiting her braids and combing through the locks with her fingers. Her eyes were filled with concern and tenderness.

Arthur nodded wearily, stretching his arm. “M’fine. Just sore. Pain medicine’s wearin’ off.” He gestured to his satchel with a tired smile.

Kate understood and moved to the satchel on the table, searching through its contents to find a tonic for his pain. She grabbed the balm for his wound as well as the little bottle of elixir, but something small and round caught her attention. She pulled out a peach pit and looked at it, confused for a moment, before realization dawned.

“You kept this?” She asked with a light chuckle, holding up the pit. Memories came flooding back from the first night she stayed in camp.

Arthur looked up and smiled, a light blush creeping up his cheeks. “Yeah, your kindness meant a lot to me. I couldn’t throw it away.”

“I never knew you were the sentimental type,” she said, her smile widening as she closed the distance and handed him the small vial. Arthur popped the cap off and downed it in one swig.

Kate opened the salve, gathering it on her fingers before she began to massage it into the flesh of his scar. He moaned softly, closing his eyes as she spread the balm, her fingers working his muscles, squeezing and rubbing his aching body. His hands moved to the back of her thighs, encouraging her to stand between his legs.

“Maybe we can plant it someday,” he said finally. “On our own land.”

Kate giggled softly. “You wanna be a peach farmer now?” she teased, her eyes sparkling with affection.

Arthur opened his eyes and looked up at her, his gaze intense and sincere. “I'll be whatever, s’long as I’m with you.”

Her heart melted at his words and she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Oh, Arthur. You are sweeter than any peach, you know that?” she murmured, the corners of her lips tugging into a smile.

Arthur suddenly tugged her body down to him, pulling her into his lap. Kate let out a surprised yelp, quickly followed by a delighted laugh. He pulled her into a deep kiss, his large hands roaming her back, snaking their way up her spine and into her hair. She sighed blissfully at his touch, radiating tenderness. His large body was intoxicatingly warm, she could feel the heat of him through the fabric of her clothing. 

Their lips met and broke with a light smack sound, engaging in a dance as they explored each other's mouths. An intimate melody of resonant hums and breathless pauses, the quick intakes of air, and the subtle, almost imperceptible sounds of lips moving against each other, slick with desire. Intense and consuming, echoing their fervent connection.

Arthur’s lips were rough yet gentle, filled with a raw passion that matched Kate’s soft and eager ones. Her hand cradled his head, occasionally tugging on his soft hair, eliciting a groan from his throat. Kate swallowed the sounds, their passion heating with each passing moment. The room around them seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of them, lost in each other, in a world where nothing else mattered.

Arthur moaned as Kate's lips moved against his with a fervent urgency. Their kiss deepened, mouths opening to explore each other with wet tongues. They pressed their lips together hard, feeling the heat of their breath mingling. There's a sense of hunger, of wanting to consume and be consumed. A newfound fervor to pull each other close, eliminate any space between them as their two bodies pressed together. Every touch, every movement feels electric.

Kate’s hands began to wander, tracing the contours of his chest and feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart beneath her fingertips. Arthur’s hands were not idle either. They roamed up and down her back, fingers tracing the lines of her spine and the curve of her waist. His touch was gentle yet possessive, as if he couldn’t get enough of feeling her close to him. His fingers played at the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head in a swift motion. He ran his hands over her bare skin, marveling at the warmth and strength beneath his touch.

Arthur groaned softly, his head falling back as Kate’s lips left his to trail a line of feather-light kisses down his neck. She could feel the tension in his body, the way he trembled slightly under her touch. Her lips brushed over the pulse point in his throat, feeling the rapid beat of his heart.

“Is this alright, Arthur?” Kate whispered against his skin, her voice filled with both desire and concern.

Arthur’s eyes fluttered open, meeting her gaze with a mix of adoration and longing. “Yes,” he breathed, his voice low and husky. “S’more than alright.”

Encouraged by his words, Kate continued her exploration, her lips moving down to his collarbone, then kissing back up the other side of his neck, sucking at the soft skin. The press of her lips sent a shiver down his spine, he felt relaxed and electrified. A deep desire and craving for more. He moaned softly and squeezed her thighs, massaging her flesh. 

She could feel the way his muscles tensed and relaxed under her touch, the way his breath came in shallow gasps. Her hands wandered lower, tracing the lines of his abdomen, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath the soft skin of his belly. She was grateful his weight returned with his recovery, preferring her lover to be healthy and robust, finding comfort in his solid presence.

Arthur wrapped his good arm under her bottom and suddenly lifted her up, with a gasp she instinctively wrapped her legs around him. Kate's breath hitched as Arthur turned and pressed her into the mattress, his body a warm and comforting weight above her. His lips found hers once more, kissing her deeply, passionately. Their tongues danced together, wet and eager, exploring each other's mouths with a hunger that only seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment.

She could feel his arousal pressing against her thigh, a hard and undeniable presence that sent a thrill through her entire body. Recalling their previous night, Kate made no move to initiate anything further. Wanting to wait until Arthur felt comfortable and letting him take the lead. She focused instead on the heat of his kisses and the way his hands roamed her body, each touch sending sparks of pleasure through her.

Arthur's lips trailed down her neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses in their wake. He reached her chest, his breath hot against her skin as he took a nipple into his mouth, sucking gently. Kate moaned, her back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure washed over her.

“Arthur,” she breathed, her fingers tangling in his hair as he continued to worship her chest. The sound of his name on her lips, filled with such longing and need, seemed to spur him on. His free hand slid up her side, caressing her soft skin, while his mouth moved from one breast to the other, lavishing equal attention on each.

Kate's breath came in shallow gasps, her hands wandering over Arthur's chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breaths. His fingers traced the curves of her body, sending shivers of delight down her spine. They moved together in a seamless rhythm, each touch and caress deepening their connection.

Arthur's mouth left her breasts, trailing kisses back up to her neck. “So beautiful,” he whispered, his breath hot and ragged against her skin. He sucked gently at the soft skin, leaving marks that would remind her of this night for days to come. Kate's moans filled the room, mingling with the sounds of Arthur’s husky groans, creating a symphony of desire and passion.

Their hands continued to explore, each touch a promise of more to come. Kate's fingers traced the lines of his abdomen, feeling the hard muscles beneath his skin. Arthur's hands roamed her body, squeezing her thighs and massaging her flesh, his touch gentle and possessive.

Despite the intensity of their passion, Kate could sense the restraint in Arthur, the way he held back, unsure of how far he could go. She pressed a soft kiss to his lips, her eyes meeting his with a look of understanding and reassurance. “We don’t have to take it farther, honey,” she whispered against his lips. “I could lay here just like this, all night long.” 

Arthur nodded with a smile, his eyes filled with gratitude and love. “Thank you,” he murmured, capturing her lips once more in a kiss that spoke of all the things he couldn't yet put into words. His hand slipped back under her, lifting her slightly to deepen the kiss, their bodies pressed together in a perfect fit.

Kate's heart swelled with love and desire, each touch, each kiss, strengthening the bond between them. As they continued to make out, she could feel the barriers between them dissolving, replaced by a deep and abiding connection that would see them through whatever challenges lay ahead.

They kissed and touched, their passion growing with each passing moment, yet always careful, always mindful of Arthur’s comfort. Inside the little ranch house, all was calm, a sanctuary of love and desire, where they could be themselves, free from the burdens of the past and the uncertainties of the future.

After what felt like an eternity, they finally pulled away, their breaths mingling in the cool night air. Their lips swollen and red, soft pink bruises marred the exposed skin. A sign of their heated passion where lips met the sensitive flesh. 

Arthur rested his forehead against Kate’s, her fingers gently tracing the lines of his jaw. “I’m going to miss this,” she whispered, her voice filled with a bittersweet longing.

Arthur's brow furrowed slightly. “Miss what darlin’?”

“This,” she said, gesturing to the space around them. “Being here, just the two of us. Away from everything.” 

Her words were vague but Arthur understood what everything meant. The chaos that was his life back in the gang, his role as Dutch’s right-hand, and most importantly his title as an outlaw. 

Arthur's expression softened, his thumb brushing gently over her cheek. “Sweetheart, you know I—” he began, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. “I wish things were different. But the gang is the only family I have.” He spoke. Arthur longed for the same dream, a simple quiet life. But there were certain duties he needed to uphold, people that he couldn't abandon. 

Kate nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. “I know, honey. Trust me, I know. You would kill for them and you would happily die for them. I just hope that you will choose to live, for me too.”

Arthur's eyes darkened with emotion, his hand tightening around her waist and pulling her close to his chest. “Kate, you mean more to me than you'll ever know.” He breathed against her skin. “I promise you, I'll do my best to make it through this. For us.” The words came out with such intensity it may as well have been a vow.

Kate smiled softly, her heart aching with love for the man in front of her. She knew the path ahead would be fraught with danger and uncertainty, but she also knew that together, they could stand unshaken. “I believe you, Arthur,” she whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

The first light of dawn crept into the room, casting a gentle glow over Arthur and Kate as they lay entwined in the warm embrace of their shared dreams. Arthur stirred first, blinking against the soft light, a peaceful expression settling over his features as he admired the sleeping woman beside him. Kate woke soon after, her fingers brushing tenderly against his cheek as she whispered, “Time to get up, love.”

They rose together, the intimacy of the previous night lingering in the air like a sweet perfume. With a shared glance and a soft kiss, they began their morning routine, dressing quickly and heading outside to greet the day. The ranch was bathed in the golden light of early morning, the dew on the grass shimmering like a thousand tiny diamonds.

Arthur and Kate worked in quiet harmony, cleaning up the barn and ensuring everything was in order for Seamus and his family. Arthur mucked out the stalls, his muscles straining but his heart light, while Kate fed the animals and refilled their water troughs. The work was satisfying, grounding them in the simplicity of ranch life and the shared purpose they found in each other.

As the sun climbed higher, a cloud of dust appeared on the horizon, signaling the return of Seamus and his family. Kate wiped her brow with the back of her hand, glancing at Arthur with a smile. “Looks like they’re back.”

Arthur nodded, leaning against the stall door as they watched the wagon approach. Seamus jumped down, a wide grin spreading across his weathered face as he spotted the two of them. “Kate! Good to see you. How’d it go?”

Kate stepped forward, her smile warm and welcoming. “Went just fine, Seamus. Dolly gave birth to a beautiful colt. We named him Huckleberry.”

Seamus’s eyes lit up with delight. “Well, I’ll be! That’s wonderful news. Thank you both for taking such good care of the place.”

Arthur tipped his hat, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Was our pleasure, Seamus.”

Seamus clapped Arthur on the shoulder, his gratitude evident in his eyes. “You two are welcome here anytime. Don’t be strangers, you hear?”

After exchanging a few more words and ensuring everything was in order, Arthur and Kate made their way to the hitching post where Lorena awaited them. Arthur saddled her up, the familiar motions bringing a sense of calm and purpose. Kate stood by, her hand resting gently on Lorena’s neck.

Once Lorena was ready, Arthur swung up into the saddle, then reached down to help Kate up behind him. She settled in, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her cheek against his back. With a gentle nudge, Arthur urged Lorena forward, the horse moving with a graceful ease as they left the ranch behind.

As they rode together back to Clemens Point, the weight of their recent confessions lingered in the air, a tangible presence between them. The steady rhythm of Lorena's hooves was the only sound, a soothing backdrop to their thoughts. The camp was not far off now, the familiar landscape bringing with it a sense of impending reality.

Kate broke the silence, her voice uncertain yet curious. "What do you wanna tell the others?"

Arthur's response was gentle and kind. "Whatever makes you comfortable sweetheart. But if you plan on hidin’ it, just know nothin’ gets past those girls,” he chuckled. “John too."

Kate knew the women in camp were incredibly perceptive. They spent their days in close quarters, becoming experts at eavesdropping and reading the silent language of the other camp members. But John surprised her. "John too, huh? Didn’t strike me as the observant type."

Arthur's gaze was fixed on the path ahead as he spoke. "Well, he’s not. But he knows me pretty well, sometimes too well. Can’t blame him though, we were practically raised together.” His voice carried a hint of nostalgia. “But he knows how to keep his mouth shut. If not, I’ll just shut it for him." He added, Kate chuckled lightly. Imagining the banter between the two brothers.

After a moment of silence, Kate hesitated before speaking again. "You know,” she began. Her tone was cautious. “John told me he got a lead on them O’Driscoll boys. Says he wants to form a posse and go after them for what they did to you."

Arthur's jaw tightened, and frustration crept into his voice. "Then he’s a goddamn fool. No sense in takin’ revenge for my sake. Does Dutch know this?"

"Most likely not," Kate admitted. "Dutch told me he had a plan a while back when you had the fever. But you know how that goes. John mentioned it to me the other night ‘round the fire. Sounds like he’s got a decent lead to get a jump on them."

Arthur's tone grew darker, his concern palpable. "Kate, revenge is a fool’s game. I’ve seen it kill too many folk. Promise me you won’t get swept up in that mess."

A fierce determination sparked in Kate’s eyes. "Those men deserve hellfire for what they did to you, Arthur." Her vow to cease taking another person’s life lingered in the back of her mind, but all of that changed the day she protected the Marston’s wagon from the raiders. The thrill of the fight no longer brought her joy, but she understood the dangerous reality of life within the gang. When push came to shove, she would have to kill out of necessity. Arthur’s captors may not be a necessity, but the thought of them almost taking him from her ignited a deep-seated rage within her, like a coyote in the night waiting for the right moment to strike its prey.

Arthur sighed, his grip on the reins tightening. "I’m sure the families of the men I’ve killed said the same ‘bout me. But you know what happens when they come to get revenge? They end up dead," he said gravely. "By my hand," he added bitterly.

Kate’s resolve wavered, her voice softening. "I know, but Arthur—"

Arthur cut her off, his voice firm and unyielding. "Enough. Promise me you won’t go with him, Kate."

The weight of his words settled heavily in the air. Kate could feel the depth of his fear, the terror of losing her to the same fate he had narrowly escaped. She took a deep breath, her voice steady. "I promise, Arthur."

As they approached Clemens Point, a mix of emotions swirled within Kate. She felt a deep sense of relief and happiness knowing that she and Arthur were finally together, bound by their shared understanding and the thread of fate. Yet, a shadow of uncertainty lingered, aware that Arthur would soon plunge back into the perilous abyss of whatever schemes Dutch had conjured. The ever-present threat of danger felt closer than ever, a dark specter gnawing at the edges of her heart. The thought of him stepping back into harm’s embrace sent shivers down her spine. Despite this, she clung to the hope that their love would be the anchor to keep them grounded amidst the chaos, giving her strength to face whatever lay ahead.

~~~

A/N: uh ohhhh is there some foreshadowing here at the end? I won't say. But things are gonna start picking up pace again and I'll be returning to the game plot in the next chapter. Their lives are about to get a little crazy! Sorry if I bore anyone with these filler-chapters but I needed a break after what happened w/ Arthur's torture....and I wanted them to get their feelings out there in a safe space away from all the camp nonsense. I think they had a good time wouldn't you say? As always thanks for reading!!!! <3

[maliciouslove]

𝕃𝕚𝕝𝕒𝕔

SFW, shopping district!AU, aged up characters (21+) 

pairing // todoroki shouto x reader

summary // a story you’ve never shared with anyone before is how you came to love flowers as much as you do. it’s simple really—it all started with him. it all started with the boy who brought you a single flower every day of the week when you scraped your knee riding his bike. your first love. but how long will it take for him to come to understand it?  

word count // 4.2k 

tags // CEO!shouto, florist!reader, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, (hurt) comfort, mutual pining (except shouto doesn’t know he’s pining), shouto with long hair, shouto is dense af, jealousy

Do you believe in soulmates?

You could understand why so many people thought of soulmates as some sort of far fetched, overly romanticized pipe dream, but honestly—you knew better. Because you had already met your soulmate. 

The evidence pointing to that?

You’ve known him since birth basically, being born less than a year after him. You grew up together, living two houses down from each other. You spent your entire youth together: from playing in the sandbox, making pretend meals out of mud and stones and using leaves as money, to being classmates throughout middle school and highschool, always walking home together and doing homework in your living room late into the night. 

The two of you were truly inseparable and shared everything—so when he got a bike at the age of six and you didn’t, of course he was more than willing to share. He wanted to teach you how to ride, put his little blue helmet on your head and fastened it under your chin, calming you down because you were nervous. 

“But what if I fall…”

“I’ll catch you.”

And the way his big heterochromatic eyes were fixed on you, full of promise and safety, gave you all the courage you needed for you to get on that bike. And he tried, he really did try to catch you when you lost control of the bike and swerved right into your front yard, trashing your mother’s flower garden and falling face first into the peonies. 

That little boy was so worried, mortified by the idea that you got hurt because of him, he simply could not stop apologizing. Even when you told him through tears that it doesn’t really hurt that much. I just scraped my knee a little, I’m okay!

But it wasn’t okay for him because he promised to keep you safe and failed. So he stood by your side, tightly holding your little hand in his as your mother was cleaning up your wounds and lecturing you about safety. And his tiny chest would feel tight every time he looks at your injury, eyes heavy with guilt and worry. 

For the next week until your scrapes were fully healed, every time he’d come to your house to play he would bring a small flower with him to give to you. 

The first day, he brought you a daffodil, clutching it in his hand as he nervously presented it to you. The second day, it was a tulip, most likely stolen from his mother's garden. On the third, he had a wild rose, a few cuts visible on his fingers, proof of his struggle to get the flower for you. On the fourth, he had three geraniums in hand that quite frankly looked bigger than him, but he smiled brightly as he gave them to you. On the fifth, he got you marigolds and taught you how to make a flower crown out of them, and on the sixth he got you peonies, bringing some for your mom as well as an apology for ruining her garden. And finally, on the seventh day, he got you lilacs. 

“To congratulate you on your recovery.”

“It was just a scrape, Shouto…”

“So?” He was then crouching down to inspect your knee, satisfied that the scrape wasn’t going to leave a scar. 

“Why flowers?”

“Because they’re pretty like you.” 

What a simple, yet powerful answer. Despite your young age, you thought long and hard about his answer as you tentatively took care of the lilacs. With every day that the flower wilted, a fondness bloomed in your heart, and you learned that you like flowers, that you very much like the boy that gave them to you. 

After that, there was nothing that could tear you two apart, not even college. True, you’d spend a lot more time apart, face timing every other night and texting on the daily, but you’d still hold onto old traditions. You’d always be at his door at exactly 00:00 on his birthday, singing (poorly) a birthday song holding out a dessert you made yourself—a muffin with a candle stuck in the middle, strawberry shortcake (his favourite), cheesecake, cherry pie, even some pudding once. 

He would always pick matching Halloween costumes, and he’d always walk you home every chance he could. He remembers all your favourite coffee orders and, without failure, texts you good morning and goodnight. He watches out for you and holds your hand when you cross the street, squeezing once before he lets you go. And without failure every year for your birthday he gives you a bouquet of lilacs that’s simply twice as big as you are. 

You always believed that with time, Shouto would notice the longing in your eyes. After all, you weren’t really hiding it. Quite frankly, your love for him was seeping out of you: far too large for your body to contain. Every word you spoke to him was harbouring feelings, but alas, they were feelings that never reached him, their fingertips millimetres away from his heart. So close, yet too far away. 

But that’s okay. You loved him just the way he was—kind, reliable, and just a tad clueless. What he lacked, you made up for, and the same was true the other way around. You fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. He just didn’t know what that puzzle was yet. But that’s okay. You loved him just the way he was. 

And before you knew it, college was over too. Shouto went off to become the CEO of a big company. He was brilliant at his job. But then again, he was brilliant at most things. He could play the piano at the age of four and the violin by the time he was six. He was an incredible athlete, and he always had the best grades. Valedictorian. Graduating summa cum laude. 

You? You stayed true to your heart and did the thing that brought you most joy. You opened your own little flower shop in the old shopping district where you grew up. You’ve wanted one since you were six, and you’ve held the vision of what your workplace will look like since you were ten. You studied hard and went on multiple internships to polish your skills as a florist so you could stand where you are now. 

Your dream was slowly coming to life. 

You had just finished furnishing the store and setting up for your grand opening the next day when you heard a soft knock on the door, and a familiar face smiling behind it. And there they were—lilacs. 

“Congratulations.” His voice is low, serene, but his eyes hold a sparkle of excitement, a glimmer of pride. “You always wanted to have your own little shop. I’m so proud of you.”

His smile is enough to silence all your worries. As you lead him up to your little apartment above the shop, you tell him all about how you almost weren't going to be ready on time for the opening, about the delivery service that brought you the wrong order and now there were no red roses in your store. What self-respecting florist doesn’t have red roses in their store?

He told you about his work as you were placing the bouquet of lilacs into a big marble vase. Something about the stock market that you didn’t really understand, but you nodded along and listened closely anyway. He loosens his tie and makes himself comfortable in your home as he always has, but he doesn’t notice how long you stare at his tie. How much you wish you could just… pull him in by the tie. Does this man even know how good he looks in a suit? 

It’s always the same: He comes when he can, stays for dinner, talks about everything and anything—or nothing at all. His presence is soothing, yet so large; it fills every nook and cranny in your apartment. He belongs. With you. After dinner he doesn’t stay long, his workdays are longer, harder, so he can’t stay as long as he wishes to. But that’s okay. Because he kisses your forehead every time, and it sets off fireworks in your chest. 

“I’ll come tomorrow too. For your opening.” 

He was so big now, he took up the entire doorway. How time had changed him. His childish round cheeks were now gone, instead, he had a defined jaw. His big round eyes now had laugh lines around them. His hair was also longer now, combed and tied in a ponytail. He didn’t wear short jeans anymore but rather an expensive suit and watch. But he was still your Shouto. The boy who has always been there for you. 

“You don’t have to, you know, your schedule is busy enough as it is.” You offer him a way out, but you secretly hope he comes anyway. You want to see him again. You want him to say he’s proud of you again. You want him.

“I insist.” He smiles reassuringly. “I want to see your dream come true.”

At this you can’t help but laugh a little. 

“I owe it all to you.”

“Nonsense. You got here all on your own.” 

You shake your head. It’s not what you meant. I fell in love with flowers the day I fell in love with you. But the words never come out. They become a part of the graveyard of unspoken words that rests on your lips. But that’s okay. This is all you need. 

It’s okay.

Once he leaves the apartment feels much colder and your arms ache. Your heart feels just a little heavier once again. Just a little though. You’ve become exceptionally good at keeping these thoughts to yourself and channelling them into your work instead. You let your flowers talk for you. 

Carnations—I miss you.

Forget-me-nots—Please remember me. Selfishly, I hope you never forget me.

Amaryllis—the pride that stops me from revealing my feelings. 

Pink camellias—I long for you. To hold you. To call you mine.

Yellow tulips—a symbol of my hopeless, unrequited love. 

And of course, lilacs—you are my first love.

This is the great thing about flowers. Like relationships, they require a lot of love and care, and like long-lasting friendships, they carry so much meaning. Friendships, just like flowers, carry countless memories hidden between each petal, they carry expectations—the sun will rise each morning, the flowers will bloom, and he will always be right by your side.

Flowers hold so much meaning—for every feeling blooming in your chest, there is a flower to symbolize it. 

The petals of unspoken words lie heavy in your chest, but perhaps one day those petals will get scattered, and at least one will reach his heart. 

But for now… this is okay. This is enough.

It’s already the end of May, but it’s extraordinarily cold tonight, and the wind is unkindly bending tree branches under its will. There is no moon, nor any stars, just clouds of uncertainty and doubt. Flowers cannot bloom in darkness, so they wait for morning light. The same applies to people—hope comes to us at dawn. 

Shouto wakes up promptly at 5:55AM, exactly five minutes before his alarm. He’s barely awake, but his mind drifts to you. Would you be able to take an hour off for lunch? Perhaps dinner would be better? He wants to celebrate the happy occasion. He wants to see you, even if it’s for 10 minutes only. Even if it’s less, he wants to be close to you, to feel the comfort of your presence, to see you smile and hear you laugh. 

He doesn’t think twice as he picks out his suit, a neat lavender coloured tie to match his little pocket square. He has four other ties like this one, something about the colour just feels right to him. The first half of his day goes by in a blur, practically working on autopilot as his mind just keeps going back to you. Are you smiling right now? Is the opening day going well? 

He imagines you happily buried under a pile of flowers and chuckles to himself—something Midoriya doesn’t fail to notice, but evidently chooses not to ask about anyway. The green-haired man had a pretty good idea what was on his boss’s mind anyway. Which is why around 11:30 he practically kicks Shouto out of their shared office and reassures him that he has things handled. 

“You have more important things to do now, go on.”

His heart is beating quite fast in his chest, so he deliberately slows his pace in an attempt to calm himself. But it appears that the closer he gets to your little shop, the faster his heart seems to race. He briefly considers consulting a cardiologist, but shoves the thought aside as soon as he can make out your silhouette behind the register. Your voice carries through the shop like a melody, and for a while he just stands by the entrance and listens. 

“It’s been sooo long, I’ve missed you Denks, you should swing by more often! I never see your face anymore.” 

Shouto can’t quite see your face from the broad shoulders of the blonde man in front of the register, but he can hear the little pout in your voice. He can vividly picture it. 

“You’re absolutely right, let me make it up to you! Let me take you out to dinner sometime? I’d love to catch up, spend some quality time with my favourite florist.” 

There is a pang in Shouto’s heart. Who is this? A friend of yours? But he knows all your friends? 

“You know what, I’d love that. How about sometime this weekend?”

“Perfect! I’ll text you the details, okay? I gotta run for now, but thank you for the beautiful flowers! Almost as pretty as you are!” 

The unknown man leans over the register and places a tiny kiss on your cheek, grinning widely at you and waving his hand goodbye. He doesn’t even look at Shouto as he passes him by at the door. 

“Shooo! You came!” He barely has time to compose himself and react to you throwing yourself on him and wrapping your hands around his neck. The moment you touch him all his previous thoughts fly out the window. Nothing else matters but you being in his arms. 

“Of course I came, it’s my girl’s big day today.” 

Once again, everything feels easy, natural. It feels like home, like you are a place he can return to whenever he needs to, a safe haven. The rest is easy—talk, have lunch, laugh, discuss visiting your parents soon, having a family dinner together since it’s been some time. But the question remains, gnawing at him. 

“Hey, um… who was that blonde man you were talking to right before I walked in? You two seemed familiar?” He hated how the word tastes in his mouth: bitter and unpleasant.

“Hm? Oh, Denki? Old college mate, but he quit his study midway because he moved away for a while. Apparently he kept my number, reached out to me the other day saying he’s back in town so I told him to stop by my shop!” You smile fondly, and it tugs at Shouto’s heart. It feels strange. His hands are sweating. 

It doesn’t feel easy anymore. 

It doesn’t feel natural. 

As usual, he walks you back home, wishes you luck with the rest of the day, and gives you a forehead kiss, yet it doesn’t give him the same feeling of calmness it usually does. It feels stiff. Rushed. Why are his legs carrying him out of your shop so quickly? Why is his mind racing without having any particular direction? Why? 

Once back in the office he thinks he could bury these feelings with work, he hoped it would be a sufficient distraction until he can schedule an appointment with a good doctor. But Midoriya beats him to it. 

“What’s up with you?”

“Nothing, just have a lot on my mind. Need to focus.”

“Uh, no. Spill. What’s on little Shouto’s mind?”

And Shouto knows better than to argue and evade. They have been friends for years, and Izuku Midoriya is known for his persistence and his need to help others. A good man, a man he trusted with half his company, so why shouldn’t he trust him with the mess of feelings in his head? 

So he does. He tells him about the other man, the conversation, the date plan for the weekend, the ugly feelings that it gave rise to, the struggle to understand them. The youngest Todoroki bared his heart to his friend, hoping that he would have some insight, an answer as to why he feels so strange. 

But he just laughs. An exasperated chuckle, and he buries his face in his hands, fingers running through green locks as some sort of ritual to help him remain calm.

“You cannot possibly be this oblivious, Sho…”

“What do you mean?” he replies in earnest. Izuku sighs once again. 

“Okay, uhm… is this the first time you feel like this?”

Shouto ponders for a moment and searches his memory. The answer comes quite fast, no, this wasn’t the first time. It has happened before—in middle school when you got paired to do a science project with another boy and you stayed with him after school. He felt a similar pang when you would laugh at that other boy’s jokes. When you would lend him a pen, or your notes.

And then again in high school, when all the other boys were raging with hormones and would stare at your legs a little too long. I made him frustrated, angry even. Why? When one of his classmates hinted he had a crush on you, it made his chest feel heavy. It made him green with envy, it made him lose sleep that night. Yet his heart felt as light as a feather as soon as he learned you rejected his advances. 

It had happened before. He had been jealous before. 

“And why do you think you were jealous?” Izuku pressed further, giving Shouto enough room to sort his own feelings out. 

“Because… I respect her, and I want the best for her?” He still sounds puzzled, so the green-haired man gives him another gentle nudge. 

“I’m sure that’s true, but is that all it is? Do you think anyone is ever going to be good enough for her?” Izuku raises his eyebrow, lips curling into a knowing smile.

“No.” Shouto shoots out immediately, eyebrows furrowed and chewing on his lower lip. 

“No. Nobody will ever be good enough, I… Fuck.” His foot was furiously bouncing under the table, his whole body felt tense, on edge. Like the eerie feeling that you’re forgetting something important. Like when a certain word or phrase is at the tip of your tongue, but refuses to roll off and come to reality. 

“So, you care for her, you respect her, you feel jealous when other men approach her with a romantic interest, and you think nobody will be good enough for her. Sho, you’re a brilliant man, so tell me, what do you think that means?” Izuku gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder and a little squeeze, giving him the courage to come to terms with reality. 

And surely, almost like a movie, all the memories of you play inside his head. The first time you tried coffee jelly and scrunched up your nose in disgust because it was too bitter for you. When you cut your hair short and ended up hating it, refusing to come out of your room for a week. When you got drunk for the first time at a karaoke bar and sang “My heart will go on” while on top of a table. You, in your prom dress, posing for photos as the sun sets behind you. It was probably a beautiful sunset, but he couldn’t care less for it at the time. He only had eyes for you. 

Everything you did was wonderful. 

He found the way you scrunch your nose at things you dislike to be adorable. He thought you looked as beautiful as always with short hair. He adored how happy you look whenever you sang. To him, you were perfect. To him, you were his entire world. 

It makes sense now. All the puzzle pieces fall together and the realization makes him feel like he could fly. 

“I’m… I love her.” He finally looks up at his friend only to find him smiling back at him. 

“Well, what are you standing there for? Go to her!”

The sky is dark. When had it gotten this late? His feet were carrying him through the narrow streets, lavender tie discarded a long time ago. As soon as Midoriya said those words his feet moved on their own. Didn’t even stop to get his car, he just ran out the office, sprinting like his whole life depended on it. 

He loves you. 

He has to run faster, God he needs to tell you. How can he be so blind? How could he miss that the colour of lilac reminds him of you? Or miss the fact that you’re always on his mind? How can he not see that you’re in every detail in his life? All the feelings that previously had no names are back, swallowing him whole. Longing. Jealousy. Regret.

His hair is no longer tied in a neat ponytail, it’s loose and wild from the wind, it’s as messy as his feelings are, but that doesn't matter right now. Two more blocks, and he’ll be at your apartment. What does he say? What is his plan? What if he’s too late? 

Heart hammering in his chest, he takes the stairs up to your apartment two at a time. God, his hands are shaking, his face feels warm. Wet. But his hand is already knocking on the door. It’s not soft like the usual, it’s urgent, it’s desperate. His mind is spinning, why is his face wet?

The door creaks open and there you are in your sunny yellow dress, perfect. Always been perfect. For him. 

“Shouto, what ar—”

“I love you.” It’s barely above a whisper, and the silence following these three words is deafening. 

The sound of the TV fades into the background, there are no birds, no cars outside. Just the two of you. The moment feels static, completely still, yet still buzzing with energy. It stretches longer than it should, as if time warps and stops to make way for love. The world feels small right now, it shrinks and the entirety of it fills the tiny hallway.   

You don’t say anything, you simply brush his tears away with your thumb, searching his eyes. His hair is dishevelled, chest heaving. He ran here?

“Again.” 

It takes a moment for Shouto to register what you’re asking of him. He takes a step closer, shortening the distance between you two. 

“I love you. I have for… for quite some time now.”

The words make you simultaneously feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders, and also as if there is an elephant sitting on your chest. It’s hard to breathe and your eyes feel prickly, even your voice quivers. 

“Again.”

He takes another step and he’s impossibly close to you now, his large warm hands cradling your face, heterochromatic eyes staring into yours. 

“I love you. You’re the only one for me, I’m… sorry it took me so long, I—”

Now it’s your turn to cut him off by pulling him by the collar of his white shirt and kissing him. His lips are soft, and a little wet from the tears, but so sweet. Gentle. Another step forward and then another, and you’re slowly being pushed back into your apartment, your back hits the wall as he deepens the kiss. When his own desire and impatience finally slip through the cracks he lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and pressing himself impossibly hard against you. 

“Sho.. m’not goin’ n..ywhere.” You try to mumble through the kiss, but it only elicits a smile in response. When he finally pulls away you can see his face is dusted with pink, eyes raking over you as if he’s seeing you for the very first time. 

“Please… please be mine?” 

There are many emotions in his tone—desire, fear, jealousy, pure excitement. Hope. They’re the words you’ve always wanted to hear, and now that you have, you can’t help but wonder if you’re hallucinating. If this is just a very vivid dream. If it is a dream, then surely, the next part won’t matter once you wake up. Right?

“You silly man, I’ve been yours since I was six. God… You made me wait so long.” 

You’re smiling, but there are tears streaming down your face. All the feelings that you had to express through flowers, all the unspoken words, the longing, it’s flooding your senses like a broken dam. 

You feel the rough pads of his fingers under your eyes, wiping the tears the same way you did for him. Once again, he kisses your forehead, after which he simply presses his own to yours. 

“Let me make it up to you. Please.” 

Your name sounds so sweet coming from his lips right now. A plea for consent, a plea to allow him to finally have you. Make you his own. Erase everyone else from your mind until there is only him. Permission for him to be selfish.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you’ll let me.”

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑! I do not own any of the characters or people mentioned in my work. these are works of pure fiction that do not reflect the views, opinions, or actions of any person, real or fictional. Furthermore, all characters I write for [thirsts, drabbles, fics, etc.] are aged up to 21 or older – they are adults with adult characteristics presented and written in adult contexts.

all rights reserved © by maliciouslove. my work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. all fanfics belong to me, please do not copy, translate nor repost the fics or files seen above as this is strictly prohibited.

[hisui-dreamer]

this time

Pairing: Azul Ashengrotto x gn!reader

Synopsis: your cowardice cost you from confessing to him once, but maybe you can get a second chance this time.

Tags: pinning, fluff, unrequited requited crushes, post-NRC, bot proofread

Word count: 1.5k+

Notes: this is dedicated to @azulashengrottospiano! thank you so much for changing my perspective on confessions and crushes, and i'll forever keep your words in mind haha. i hope you'll find this fic enjoyable!

Masterlist

In the moment, you just knew; your feelings for him had never faded away.

It was as if the currents of time had kept your feelings for him hidden, carefully tucked away in a secret chamber of your heart. They lay dormant, patiently biding their time, while you busied yourself with the distractions of life after graduation. But the second you caught a glimpse of his aquamarine eyes, it was as if a dam had burst, unleashing a torrent of long-suppressed emotions that flooded your being.

Your friendship with Azul had been forged in an unexpected twist of fate, woven together by trust and mutual benefit. It all began when Jade fell ill after consuming a poisonous mushroom he had foraged on one of his hikes. In a moment of urgency, Azul found himself desperately in need of a temporary replacement.

At the time, the two of you were merely acquaintances, barely exchanging more than a few polite words. However, when Azul approached you knowing you had the skills to alleviate his mountains of paperwork, which he had seen from Crowley’s increasing spare time, you agreed to stand in for Jade as long as he would pay you handsomely.

Looking back, you’re so glad you agreed to help, and even more glad he had offered you the position.  

As you took on the role of Azul's secretary, you discovered a harmonious synergy between your skills and his needs. Your efficiency and attention to detail complemented his demanding work style, creating a seamless workflow that allowed him to navigate his responsibilities with ease. It was a delicate dance, a symphony of coordination and cooperation.

But amidst the professional arrangement, something unexpected unfolded. Beneath the facade of business transactions and financial arrangements, you soon found yourself enamoured with Azul's charismatic charm and intellect, his genuine appreciation for your support and efforts. Really, how could you not? You loved how he seemed so proud to others, yet he would show such vulnerable sides of himself when Floyd would push his limits. You loved the way his face would soften, the hint of a subtle, soft smile that graced his lips when you brewed his favourite tea just right. The genuine gratitude in his eyes as he whispered a heartfelt "thanks" echoed in your mind, warming your heart. And you loved how even after Jade recovered, he noticed how overworked and weary you were, the dark circles under your eyes deepening, and he let you rest on the couch in his office, his trench coat acting as a comforting blanket that smelled of him.  Time slipped away as you slept, the entire duration of the restaurant's bustling hours, yet he remained faithfully by your side to watch over you.

Oh, you loved him, without a doubt.

But you were also a coward.

You wished so dearly to express your feelings to him, to summon the courage and hope against hope that he might, just maybe, reciprocate your affections even just a little bit. But the sheer intensity of your emotions weighed upon your heart, casting shadows of doubt and uncertainty. Should you confess the depths of your emotions now, or would it unravel the delicate threads of the beautiful friendship you had painstakingly woven together?

In the end, fear had won the battle. The fear of rejection, of irrevocably altering the dynamics that had kept you so close. And so, after graduation, life took you on separate paths, causing you to drift apart, your feelings fading away into nothing but a fond memory of your school days.

Until now, that is.

Azul sits across the table from you, a vision of charisma and charm. His presence alone fills the restaurant with an undeniable magnetism. The atmosphere crackles with a sense of anticipation, mingled with a tinge of bittersweet nostalgia. The twins, Floyd and Jade, were supposed to join you both for this reunion lunch, but Floyd had conveniently fallen ill, and Jade stayed behind to look after him. It's as if fate has conspired to create this moment, this opportune time for the two of you to reconnect.

As you gaze at Azul, you can't help but notice how he incredibly handsome he is, even more so having matured over the years. His curly silver hair delicately frames his face, adding a touch of sophistication to his appearance. His cool blue eyes shimmer with a hint of shyness and fondness, drawing you deeper into his gaze.

Lost in conversation and the delectable flavours of the meal, your attention is suddenly drawn to Azul's tender gesture. His hand reaches out, moving with graceful precision, as he gently tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, ensuring it stays clear of the food. The touch is tender and intimate, a subtle act of care that leaves you breathless. In that fleeting moment, a surge of warmth courses through your veins, igniting a flutter of butterflies in the depths of your stomach.

But before you can fully savour the intensity of the moment, Azul's voice breaks through, laced with a hint of apology and concern. "Oh... sorry..." he mumbles. His hand retreats, as if realising the potential discomfort he may have caused. The fleeting touch is gone, but its impact remains as you feel your cheeks warm at his actions.

Oh, you're still hopelessly in love with Azul, just as you have always been.

A rush of emotions floods your being, creating a whirlwind of conflicting desires. You yearn to tell him how his touch ignited a flame within you, how it awakened feelings that have long been buried beneath the surface. But fear and uncertainty hold you captive, trapping the words within the depths of your heart.

"No, Azul," you say softly, summoning the courage that lies within, offering him a reassuring smile. "You didn't make me uncomfortable. Quite the opposite, actually."

His eyes widen in surprise, as if a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. A flicker of relief dances in his gaze, mingling with a renewed spark of hope.

"Oh... I'm glad then," he answers, his lips twitching in a manner that you know is his attempt to hide his embarrassment. A soft blush tints his cheeks, adding a touch of warmth to his already captivating features.

You feel the tension between you easing, and a sense of comfort settling in the air. The nervousness that had consumed the space between you dissipates, making room for a new energy, an anticipation of what lies ahead.

"Azul, you mentioned you're in need of a new secretary, right?" you inquire, seizing the opportunity to steer the conversation towards the unspoken desires that have silently entwined your hearts.

He nods, his brows furrowing slightly as he tries to comprehend the direction of the conversation. The corner of his lips quirks up in a curious smile, silently urging you to continue.

"Well," you pause, your voice soft but filled with determination, "do you think I'd be fit for the job?"

The room seems to hold its breath, waiting for Azul's response. His gaze lingers on you, his eyes searching your face for any hint of jest or uncertainty. There is a moment of silence, pregnant with anticipation, as the weight of your words settles between you.

A gentle smile graces Azul's lips, radiating warmth and affection. The flush on his cheeks deepens, adding to his irresistible charm. In that instant, he becomes the epitome of loveliness, a sight that captivates your heart and steals your breath away. His vulnerability, displayed in the gentle quiver of his lips, only makes you appreciate him more deeply.

Azul coughed gently as he covers his mouth, an attempt to regain composure and gather his thoughts. His gaze briefly averts, the vulnerability replaced by a sense of composed professionalism. His words stumble out, laced with a touch of awkwardness, but beneath it all, his true intentions shine through.

"W-well, obviously we're going to go through the proper procedure and an interview…" he stammers, the uncertainty in his voice betraying his attempt at maintaining a façade of formality.

But then, Azul's hand finds yours, his fingers intertwining with yours. The touch is delicate yet electric, sending a jolt of warmth coursing through your veins. The colours intensify, the air brimming with an electric energy that crackles between you. And when he speaks, his voice becomes a soothing melody, a sound that resonates within the depths of your soul, a melody you long to hear every day.

"But Angelfish," he says, his voice a tender caress that wraps around your heart, "you would not only be fit for the job, but you would bring a light to my days that no other secretary ever could. I can think of no better person than you."

His words penetrate the barriers you've built around your heart, shattering the doubts and fears that have plagued you for so long. A surge of joy and relief washes over you, manifesting as a bright smile that graces your face. Your eyebrows furrow shyly, a remnant of your school days, as if you're transported back to that time when everything was new and uncertain. But this time, there is no more running away, no more holding back.

This time, you would surely become his.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

[doctormaxbankman]

PLEASE TELL ME MORE

Honestly Kayla, finding this in my inbox is the highlight of my week, one of my favourite blogs on here @nilefreemans

I honestly have so many thoughts about bucktommy overall but tommy kinard is such an enigma in many ways and it’s kind of like sudoku where it’s a fun puzzle to play around with headcanons based on intentional and unintentional canon information and i have so many thoughts whenever i see gifs

cause like yeah it’s very easy to just be like yeah i’ve seen pics of lou with earrings but choosing to interpret it as an intentional character element adds so much to tommy’s character

cause yeah ear piercings are way less gendered now but i know i certainly grew up hearing so many gendered rules about who could or couldn’t get their ears pieced and the “gay earring”, and i imagine that would have been so much more amplified for Tommy, just the layers of pressure and closeting he is seemingly under prior to chimney begins— which makes the pierced ears even more interesting because jt means in universe that there was some point in time that tommy felt like he could step out of those confines and take what looks like this tiny little step but in reality is profound for him but only temporarily since we don’t see him wear them even outside of work iirc.

and i’m just fascinated by these little pockets of liberation for characters like tommy —like for ref. I watched spn and one of my favourite fic tropes is Stanford Era Dean where for a brief moment he doesn’t have to be hunter nobody is perceiving him and he gets to just be himself a queer man— which just feels very Tommy

like i don’t have hard or fast ideas and tommy doesn’t seems like the most traditionally impulsive (like buck) but more of a measured impulsivity where maybe he doesn’t seek things out but he’ll eagerly engage when it’s there- i mean see every time chimney has ‘dragged’ him into things/information out of him

So while I could easily see it being a throwaway line of like “oh yeah I forget about em, I got them when I lost a bet” or as a more active rebellious move of like hey I can't do something grander but I can do this and the kind of people who would see this as gay are the people I'm looking to spite right now

But my personal favourite is (again a lot of this is me just wanting an version of the stanford era dean segment of A Thousand Lives fic but Tommy pre-buck) I really enjoyed the idea that Tommy got his ears pieced because he wanted to just sincerely, even more so if in a bitter sweet way it’s in this blip of tommy’s life prior to coming out when he’s out to himself and dating men, going to queer spaces etc. and one of them is some queer man with the patience of a saint who one evening in a moment of calm intimacy probably brushing their hands through tommy’s hair and when noticing his ears ask tommy if he’s ever thought about getting them pierced- and at this window of post army and either pre LAFD entirely or just pre-buck 118- he has just enough courage to say yes and agree to getting them pierced, and like eventually this partner would somehow convince him to do some level of gender bending expression or drag like a Halloween costume (like please can somebody draw Tommy doing rock horror) and then bittersweet it’d probably link back to tommy being just not being ready for or in the right environment to be really fully out and a mutual break out as the other guy looking for a more visible relationship

i really wasn’t expecting this to be this long i had to fully delete a tangent i had about my thoughts on tommy and love actually but that’s for a different post lmao, again really honoured that you enjoyed my rambly tags enough to want to hear more, i wish i wrote fic so i could put these ideas together better but at least it’s there

[cloudcountry]

i have too many mutuals to tag so yk. i cant tag all of you guys, all i can do is hope that you all see this and know how much i care about you.

when i arrived here on tumblr i wasn't expecting much, it seemed to me like everyone had their friend groups already, and i felt like the odd one out. even though i spent those first few days posting my writing and figuring out how to format things, i still felt like an outsider looking in. it didn't feel like i was really participating.

and honestly, i'm not sure when it started. i'm not sure when being here began to feel like a home away from home, like a space on the internet that was my own and that i could shape however i wanted. i'm not sure when it occurred to me that you guys had a hand in shaping it, too. you showed me the characters you loved and the things that reminded you of me, you placed them on my blog like paintings in a museum, for me to look back on whenever the nostalgic urge hit me. you actively tried to get to know me and form connections with me, even if i scared some of you (which im 100% certain i did.) thank you for taking courage to talk to me, i'm thankful for all of you.

there was a point when i was scared too. it was really hard for me to reach out to people myself but i ended up doing so anyway. (raptor, rinna, and sippy, thank you for welcoming me so warmly. i haven't forgotten it.) i know my blog blew up really quickly, given how much content i was posting at the time, but at the end of the day i still don't like thinking of myself as someone famous or a super recognizable blog in the twst fandom. because at the end of the day, i was just someone doing what they loved.

i'm glad i was given the opportunity to start writing when i was young. i'm glad i kept at it, and i'm glad i shared so many stories with my friends on the playground. i'm glad i honed my writing all throughout school, and i'm glad i still practice today. because if i hadn't picked up the pencil to write that first fanfiction of mine, none of this ever would have happened. and i hated writing as a child, so that could have happened. there's probably another timeline where that did, but we aren't here to talk about that hypothetical auburn.

we're here to talk about me and you guys, because you've given me the precious gift of your time. you've invited me into your lives and let me be a part of them, even if it is only through the screen. you've thought about me while going about your day, and i have thought about all of you. we are connected, in this universe where there was every possibility that we never would have met, and i think that's beautiful. i will forever be grateful that my love for writing can make people smile, that it can make them laugh and cry and scream. i will forever be grateful for the gift to make others feel, and for you all for sharing that with me.

thank you. even if you aren't a mutual, your support has touched me. thank you for reading what i create, thank you for commenting your thoughts, thank you for talking to me and engaging in the fandom community. i hope every single one of you has a wonderful 2024, and that we can make each other happier and keep pushing towards our individual goals with each passing day.

[chimcess]

→ Chapter Three: Harboring a Fugitive Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Werewolf!Jimin, Witch!Reader, Shifter!Reader, Shifter!Jimin, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Jimin Genre: Supernatural!AU, Werewolf!AU, Angst, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Smut, Word Count: 10.3k+ Synopsis: Within the four realms of Lustra lay the Bangtan forest home to the Foxglove pack of the south and known as the “land of magic.” It is also home to the Bridd, a powerful witch from a cursed bloodline who is one of the sacred guardians of the forest. Y/N is the newest Bridd, a young girl who was given her position too early. Now a woman, Y/N is revered amongst the wolves as the most powerful witch they have ever known, but hiding under the surface is a woman who has to battle between her duty and her heart. Warnings: Long haired Jimin, Strong language, blood, main character injured, main character beaten (not explicit), fighting, argument, near death experience, angst, fluff, backstory time, flashbacks, I’m putting PTSD on all of these because poor reader is suffering, I love Taehyung so much, I forgot how much I missed his playful attitude, brooding Jimin as always, crying, hurt/comfort, I hate Ahn, let me know if I missed anything A/N: This rewriting has been more fun than I thought it would be. I think the next chapter will have the most changes thus far, but I am still trying to keep everything as close as possible. Thanks for reading!

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I was jolted awake by a frantic pounding on the front door. My eyes cracked open, and the sting of exhaustion made them burn like hot coals. As I surveyed the room, I realized I’d been changed and cleaned, but Yoongi’s presence was conspicuously absent. Jimin, too, seemed to have vanished, though I couldn’t recall when Yoongi had arrived. Sleep was already slipping through my fingers, the relentless knocking dragging me back to wakefulness.

With a groan of protest from every muscle, I limped to the living room. Shiloh’s gentle breathing from her nest was the only sound beside the incessant banging. It struck me that she must have been utterly spent to have slept through it all. At last, I reached the door and threw it open, only to be greeted by one of the most heart-wrenching sights I’d seen in ages.

Kim Taehyung stood there, a broken mess. His hair was a tangle of knots and his body was a bruised and battered mosaic of purples and blues. I forced myself to straighten up, though my exhaustion made it a struggle. As I guided him inside, my heart shattered at the sound of his sobs.

Ahn had clearly done a number on him, and the rage that simmered beneath my surface was nearly overwhelming. But Taehyung was in no state to handle my fury. His suffering was both physical and emotional, and I needed to tend to him first. As he choked out the details of his ordeal, I listened with clenched teeth.

After we left, Ahn had dragged Taehyung into a secluded room at the palace, where the beating began. It was as if the old man believed he could pummel the boy into submission. The thought nearly made me scream. Soon, three others from the council joined in, and though some had protested, none had the courage to stand against it. Sol had been taken from him, her screams echoing in his ears.

“I’ve got your face,” I muttered, dipping back into a jar of salve. I’d already applied two jars to his face and neck. “Strip down. I need to check for infections.”

Taehyung nodded through his tears. I didn’t let myself stare too long, though it was impossible not to see the condition of his battered body. I focused on his stomach, my hands working with a rough, frustrated rhythm.

“I can’t believe this,” I grunted. “Why did you let them do this to you?”

Taehyung winced as I pressed too hard on a tender spot. “I didn’t want to fight,” he said. “I don’t want to rule with violence. Fighting and shouting… it’s uncivilized.”

I laughed, though it was devoid of humor. “So, you let them do whatever they want with you? You’d let them kill you?”

He was silent, unable to answer. 

“If you want to be taken seriously,” I said, opening another jar of salve and rubbing it into his chest, “you have to stand up for yourself. Your idea of civility doesn’t align with the old guard.”

Taehyung’s expression darkened, and he looked genuinely troubled. His naivety struck me hard, and I felt a surge of anger. If Ahn were here, I’d deal with him myself. How dare he orchestrate such cruelty? The thought of him parading around while a child suffered made my blood boil.

While I agreed with Taehyung’s ideals, the others would never accept them easily. He needed to fight if he wanted respect. Chief Ahn would never allow a different kind of leadership. My anger flared again—Kim Taehyung was far more worthy of leadership than that miserable excuse for a man. An epiphany hit me: no one else was as suited to rule Foxglove as Taehyung, with his diplomacy and kindness.

“I understand,” I said, wincing as Taehyung flinched away from my touch. “But you can’t let them push you around. Their views of manhood are archaic, and though your village knows it, fear makes people cling to the familiar. Ahn exploits that fear to boost his own ego.”

Taehyung’s gaze was inscrutable, his eyes following my every movement but revealing nothing. He seemed to be weighing my words carefully.

“I wanted to fight,” he confessed, his voice a whisper of shame. “I wanted to kill them all, but then they’d win. I’d become the man they wanted me to be, but the village would fear and resent me like they fear Ahn.”

His introspection was unexpected but not unwelcome. I’d never heard him speak with such depth before. His voice, deep and smooth like molasses, carried a melancholy tune. It was a stark contrast to his youthful charm, making me remember he’d only turned eighteen a month ago.

“Isn’t running away also letting them win?” I asked gently.

Taehyung sighed. “I had no choice. Ahn was trying to stir up enough trouble to force someone to challenge me for Sol. No one took the bait, so I managed to slip away. Jong-gyu helped me get out, and Eun-jin told our mother I was leaving.”

Taehyung’s siblings always seemed to feature in his stories, and their importance to him was clear. Jong-gyu, only eleven, and Eun-jin, just six, were his little anchors. The thought of them plotting an escape for their eldest brother was heartbreaking.

I wiped my hands on my nightgown and stood up. Taehyung was smeared in salve, and the bruises were already fading. His ribs would need more time, so I headed to the kitchen, searching for a healing potion. I didn’t have the energy to make one from scratch at this hour.

“Why did you come here?” I asked softly.

Taehyung sighed. “Because I knew you’d help me.”

The pity I felt for him returned with a vengeance. Imagining him hurt and abandoned, unable to trust anyone else, made my heart ache. I found an old potion in the back of a cupboard, checked its scent, and decided it was still good.

“You can stay as long as you need,” I said, handing him the potion. “Sol is my friend, and I’ll do my best to keep you safe.”

Taehyung seemed relieved. He drank the potion, curled up on the couch, and was asleep almost immediately. The sight of him, so utterly exhausted, made me stifle a laugh. I began extinguishing the candles and tidying up the used salves. I’d need to prepare more soon.

Exhausted and still recovering from the ceremony, I dragged myself back to bed. Shiloh was waiting for me, her feathers ruffled in disapproval.

“How many times do I have to tell you to take your bedrest seriously?” she chided.

I groaned and collapsed into my bed. It was warm and inviting. Shiloh flapped to her nest, feathers drifting onto my sheets, but I ignored them. I was used to the constant cleaning by now.

“It was Taehyung,” I protested weakly.

“I don’t care if it was Fenrir himself at the door, you need to stay in bed—”

“Shiloh,” I warned, “Swîgian âstillian.”

The owl grumbled, but I was too far gone to listen.

The pounding at my front door was relentless, dragging me from a restless sleep. Groggy and stiff, I rolled over with a groan, my body protesting every move. Outside, a cacophony of angry voices pierced the morning quiet, and among them, someone was calling for Taehyung. That was the spark that ignited my fury. Furious and aching, I summoned my magic to lift myself out of bed and threw on my robe.

Taehyung was curled up in a tight ball in front of the sofa, barely stirring as I stormed past him to the door. Shiloh’s frantic screeches filled the air, demanding I retreat back to bed and let the wolves handle their own mess. But when their politics come knocking at my door, I had every right to give them a piece of my mind.

With a deep breath to steady my rage, I squared my shoulders and thrust my arms forward. The front door exploded off its hinges and crashed into whoever was standing behind it. Namjoon barely flinched as he shoved the door aside with a practiced swipe, his eyes wide with shock. But I wasn’t finished. I began to sing, a storm of objects swirling around the room in a chaotic dance. Namjoon staggered back, but this only fueled my anger further. Shiloh’s voice cut through the chaos as a fierce blue flame erupted from my palm and hurtled towards the wolf.

“Hwæt−hwugu ðrîstian êow?” I roared, the magic dissipating as my singing ceased. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

Hoseok and Jimin flanked their brother, their expressions a mix of concern and annoyance. I knew I’d regret attacking them eventually, probably the moment they left, but in this moment, I couldn’t bring myself to back down. No one was going to come here and intimidate me. The rational part of my brain screamed for me to stop, breathe, and listen, but the louder, angrier voice wanted to shatter them all. Taehyung had been battered and bleeding last night, and yet none of these so-called protectors had lifted a finger to help.

“Bridd—” Hoseok began.

I cut him off, my gaze locked on Namjoon. He stared at the ashen spot where the flames had struck, his face a mask of conflicted emotions. My anger burned hotter, and I felt a fresh wave of pain in my back—clearly, I had overextended myself with the magic. My body was struggling to heal, blood seeping from old wounds.

“Sê ðafian êower m¯ægð teohhian êower weorðfulnes?” I roared, my eyes blazing. “Sol chose him. The Gods chose him! Do you think you’re somehow superior to them now? Are you so blinded by your precious Chief’s biases that you’d let this happen?”

Namjoon swallowed hard, his eyes finally meeting mine. “Of course not. I—”

“You listen to me,” I sneered, cutting him off. “If you ever have the audacity to come banging on my door again, I swear, I will not show you the same mercy.”

Namjoon stammered, unable to form a coherent response. I could feel my strength waning, the red haze in my vision receding. Shiloh’s persistent shouts to come inside and let Taehyung handle things himself were drowned out by my determination. No one else was here to protect him if things turned violent, and I’d never forgive myself for leaving him exposed. I stood tall, though my stance was more relaxed now, my anger still simmering beneath the surface.

“We’re here to speak with Taehyung,” Hoseok pleaded. “We have no intention of fighting with you or him. Namjoon needs to deliver a message.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but Taehyung’s voice cut through the din. 

“I’m fine, Bridd,” he said, his tone calm but wary. He stayed behind me, peering cautiously at the intruders. “What’s the word?”

“Don’t be angry with me, cousin,” Namjoon began, stepping forward.

I instinctively moved to defend Taehyung, taking up a protective stance. Namjoon halted, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender while Hoseok stood beside him, and Jimin remained still, his gaze fixed on me with an unreadable expression. If I was thinking clearly, I might understand his wary posture, but in my agitated state, it only stung.

“I have challenged you,” Namjoon said, and all thoughts of Jimin vanished.

“Quare?” Taehyung’s voice was thick with disbelief and hurt. “What have I ever done to you?”

Namjoon’s expression softened, but I readied myself to protect Taehyung at all costs. No one was going to harm him—not while I had breath in my body. Sol was my friend, and I wouldn’t let anyone, especially not someone like Ahn, destroy their lives. I knew Namjoon well enough to anticipate his attempts to play both sides for peace, a trait I despised.

“So no one else would,” Namjoon said, trying to convince Taehyung. “We’re trying to buy time to come up with a plan. I swear, I have no intention of fighting you.”

“Putasne me stultum esse?” Taehyung hissed, his body radiating heat. “You’re trying to take Sol from me!”

Namjoon’s face went pale. I felt a surge of pride for Taehyung, agreeing with his rage. Namjoon’s arrogance, coupled with his obsession with Sol, made it hard to believe that the challenge was solely for Taehyung’s benefit. The other two wolves’ skeptical expressions confirmed my doubts.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Taehyung,” Namjoon pleaded, his agitation growing. “I mean what I say, even if you’re too dense to understand it.”

Taehyung growled, and I had to steady my racing heart. I needed to shield him inside. Namjoon could leave, and I would be exposed to the sun if he chose to exploit that. Still, I held my defensive posture. Taehyung was done talking, and both Hoseok and Namjoon waited for his next move.

Suddenly, Shiloh burst out of the house with a loud screech. The chaos unfolded in a flash. Shiloh lunged at Namjoon, who transformed into a wolf mid-air. Taehyung’s massive frame surged forward, and before I could react, I was thrust into the sunlight. My face slammed against the front steps, and the sun’s rays seared my back. Pain shot through my ankle as metal cut into my skin.

My skin felt like it was on fire. Screams erupted uncontrollably from my throat as I struggled to focus on Shiloh. I saw her turning towards me just as a large, russet wolf nudged her aside. Hands grabbed me, pulling me back inside. My body trembled with pain, my vision filled with white as I screamed. All around me, voices clashed, but the pain consumed me.

“Quid irrumabo facimus?” Hoseok shouted.

“Nescio,” Taehyung’s voice sounded choked with tears.

My eyes rolled back, the agony overwhelming my senses. The ceiling came into view as I raised a trembling hand. Black feathers had pierced through my skin, and I cried out in fresh distress.

“Recedite ab ea!” someone screamed, but the words were indistinguishable.

“Licuitne futura est?”

Something was happening nearby, but all I could focus on was the searing fire inside me. I knew the pain would eventually subside, but I needed something to help ease it. My mouth opened to speak, but only screams escaped.

“It burns,” I managed to grunt through the convulsions.

Hands touched me, but my vision blurred. Sleep was impossible, and my body was in its worst state yet. Between the ceremony, the magic use, and the sun exposure, I’d be out of commission for a week—or more.

“Move,” Shiloh’s voice cut through the chaos.

Through my half-opened eyes, I saw not an owl but a radiant woman standing before me. Her fiery hair shimmered like it was underwater, and her skin glowed with a diamond-like brilliance. She looked like an ethereal vision, and I reached out to her. Her tears sparkled as she gently touched my hand.

“Slêpte,” she whispered, her fingers brushing my arm.

A wave of relief washed over me, and I sighed deeply. I closed my eyes, curling up next to Shiloh. Exhaustion hit me all at once, and I could hear growls and frantic voices, but they were far away. Someone was crying, but I was too tired to identify who it was.

“I’m going to put you to bed,” the woman whispered softly. “Where you belong.”

When I finally dragged myself back to consciousness, the smell of cooking food was like a beacon in a fog of confusion. I was back in my bed, with memories of the night before slipping through my fingers like sand. Shiloh had been there in her spirit form—so ethereal, so beautiful I imagined her future self would be just as mesmerizing. With a groan, I forced myself upright, my body protesting with every movement. No one would harm Taehyung while I still drew breath, and I clung to the hope that he was safe and sound somewhere in my house.

Stumbling into the kitchen, I grabbed the door frame for support. The stove was ablaze, a pot bubbling away on top, filling the room with the rich, smoky aroma of applewood. The kitchen sparkled, cleaner than it had ever been, as if someone had swept away not just dirt but the very chaos of my life. The scent of lemon mingled with the sharp tang of onions, a strange comfort in the midst of this turmoil.

“You should be in bed.”

The voice, coming out of nowhere, made me jump. I whipped around to find Jimin sprawled in my recliner, looking unusually somber. Taehyung stood by the fireplace, his gaze fixed on me with a mix of concern and something else I couldn’t quite place. Hoseok and Namjoon were absent, and my heart sank at the lack of familiar presence.

“Where’s Shiloh?” I demanded, stumbling forward and clutching the kitchen island.

Taehyung was at my side in an instant, his touch gentle but insistent. “Please, don’t push yourself, Bridd,” he said softly, guiding me to the small loveseat.

Jimin, ever the thoughtful one, draped a blanket over me as if I were a child. He must have been busy while I slept, rummaging through my things. Glancing at my hands, I saw the feathers had been replaced by jagged scars, a cruel reminder of the price I’d paid. My heart sank at the sight, a pang of sorrow tightening in my chest. Jimin’s hand covered mine, offering a silent comfort.

“She stepped out for a while,” Jimin said, his voice rough, like he’d been yelling. 

I remembered my anger towards him and Namjoon, but now it seemed distant, irrelevant. Seeing Jimin’s weary face, I knew he’d been affected deeply by the events. He was no longer the faceless alpha from my anger-fueled memories but someone I felt genuine empathy for. Taehyung’s presence, however, still rankled. Namjoon’s arrogance had hurt him deeply, and no matter his intentions, the challenge he issued had only made things worse.

“Is everyone alright?” I asked, trying to focus on the present.

Jimin shrugged, “Everyone but you. Namjoon and I had a disagreement before he left, but he’ll be fine.”

I scowled at Jimin. “I don’t like the idea of you fighting.”

Jimin’s grin was faint but reassuring. “Don’t worry, amica. I won.”

“Doesn’t change my feelings.” I grumbled, turning to look at Taehyung. His face was a mask of confusion, his eyes betraying an inner turmoil. The fleeting glances he shot between Jimin and me hinted at a struggle to make sense of it all. He winked at me, and I looked away, wondering if he’d caught onto my feelings.

Was it possible he had seen more than I intended? I knew Taehyung was perceptive, his mischievous nature hiding a sharp awareness. But right now, I was too exhausted to dwell on it. Jimin’s presence was a balm to my troubled mind.

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like to stay here until Taehyung decides what to do,” Jimin said, surprising me.

“What for?” I asked.

“I’m sorry for pushing you,” Taehyung interjected. “I didn’t realize you were so close, and I was overwhelmed.”

I shook my head, dismissing his apology. “It’s not your fault, Taehyung.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung scoffed. “You’re covered in scars because of my actions, and now my cousin is angry with all of us because of the fight. Hoseok said it’s best if we stay away from the village for a while. We can’t go back home.”

This news didn’t surprise me. I had no intention of letting Taehyung leave my cottage anytime soon, but Jimin’s exile was either a self-imposed punishment or Hoseok’s attempt to cool Namjoon’s temper. It made sense—challenging Taehyung was hardly a diplomatic move. 

Jimin suddenly produced a letter from his pocket, catching me off guard. “I found the letter your friend sent you.”

A spark of recognition flickered. “Wendy!” I exclaimed.

Jimin looked almost bashful, his discomfort evident. I tugged my arm free and hurried to my coat rack, desperate to retrieve the letter. But before I could make it, Taehyung’s arms encircled me.

“Taehyung, let me go,” I demanded, struggling against his hold.

“Sit. You’re hurt,” he pleaded, guiding me back to the sofa.

Frustrated, I bit his arm, causing him to yelp and release me. I landed on the floor with a thud, glaring up at him.

“This is ridiculous,” I complained. “You come into my home, rifle through my belongings, and now you won’t let me read my own letter? She’s my friend! If it’s important, I need to know.”

Jimin sighed, frustration etched into his features. “If you’d had a bit more patience, I could have handed it to you. It’s in my pocket.”

“If you’d just said that instead of staring at me like I’m an idiot—” I retorted, hobbling back to the sofa and grabbing the letter from his hands. “—I wouldn’t have gotten up.”

Jimin’s glare was sharp but silent. I settled into my spot, Taehyung’s weary gaze fixed on me. The need to apologize for my earlier actions was there, but I fought it. He had overstepped, and I had reacted. Still, the urge to make amends lingered.

The letter from Wendy was a balm to my troubled thoughts. Her words painted a picture of her own struggles, and as I read, my heart sank. She was thinking about not coming back hom after her sister’s wedding. She didn’t think Jin would take her back and that she had ruined his and Yoongi’s friendship. Shiloh must have gone to find her after reading the letter. I mentally thanked her and began to draft a reply.

Wendy, darling,

I’m relieved to hear from you. The events here in Bangtan have been tumultuous, and I’ve hardly had a moment to breathe. The ceremony has left me weary, and I hope you can help me unwind once you return. 

Forget the fools who have caused you distress. Remember the things that truly matter: your mother, the sisterhood, the coven, and the forest. No one else can tame a magindara or purify the sea like you. Don’t let trivial matters deter you from enjoying life. I’m thrilled about Nixie’s engagement and wish I could be there with her.

But life has charted a different course for both of us. I’m scared, Wendy—every day brings new fears—but I embrace it all, the sunshine, the flowers, the wind. As Aldara said, “Fear reminds us that we’re alive.” So, don’t give up just yet. Keep swimming and return home. Talk to Seokjin; he will understand. Yoongi holds no ill will. Release your fantasies and root yourself in reality.

We’ve all made mistakes, but we can mend our friendships if nothing else. If you truly wish to be with Jin, then go for it. He has long pursued you while you focused elsewhere. I want our circle whole again, with everyone finding their happiness. So go ahead. Even if I’m afraid, you need not be.

Missing you dearly,

B

I watched as the letter dried, my body easing into a more bearable state. With renewed energy, I rummaged for an envelope. Shiloh would usually handle sending things, but I was alone in this. Grabbing my ceremonial bag, I sifted through it until I found my meteor powder. Taking a deep breath, I began sketching Wendy’s face. My hand moved with practiced ease, though my heart pounded with anxiety. 

With a final incantation, I threw the powder onto the parchment. The paper vanished in an instant. I mumbled a hope that it reached her safely.

“That was so cool!” Taehyung’s voice broke my reverie.

I chuckled. “Not as cool as my own magic, but it will have to do. I can hardly feel anything in my body.”

Returning to the couch, I curled up beside Jimin. He looked worried, a sentiment I hadn’t expected from him. I had probably done more harm than good with my earlier actions, but for now, I would let it be. 

“She seemed upset,” Jimin said, his voice laced with concern. “I hadn’t realized your friends were involved in this way.”

I was taken aback by his empathy. “It’s been a thing since we were children. Don’t worry too much; she’ll come back, and they’ll figure it out.”

“Why aren’t they together now?” Taehyung asked.

“Because,” I sighed, “they don’t truly know what they want.”

Jimin served us a bowl of cabbage stew, plain but comforting. As I ate, I drifted into a restless sleep on the small couch, the unsettling dream I woke from fading as Jimin gently returned me to bed. I didn’t wake again until after sunset, finding solace in the quiet as the world outside continued its chaotic spin.

Taehyung was a surprising guest. He took care of the space, cleaned up after himself, and was generally a delight to have around. He was like a new breed of house guest, one who didn’t leave a trail of destruction in his wake. The supplies I had been sending to Foxglove had stopped—something Taehyung and Jimin didn't quite agree with, but that was their problem. They didn’t deserve my help if they were going to squander it. No one had come for anything lately, leading me to believe they were either boycotting my services or simply too intimidated by the presence of the wolves to make an appearance.

Wendy’s letter arrived the next morning, confirming she was on her way back. She’d even written to Jin, though I could only guess what she had said. Seokjin was notorious for spilling secrets, so I expected to hear all about it sooner or later.

I took a deep breath, opening my eyes to the sight of my altar. My magic had returned a few days ago, but I’d let it rest. Today was the first time I’d performed a ritual spell in days. I glanced over my shoulder, offering a soft smile to Jimin, who was napping on my sofa.

Our conversations since that night had been sparse, but Jimin was doing his best to help Taehyung devise a plan to win over the town. I thought it was a foolish endeavor, but I supported it nonetheless. Jimin’s reputation in the community was invaluable, and having him on Taehyung’s side significantly boosted his chances. I knew the pack missed both of them, and I hoped Namjoon would make an appearance soon. We had much to discuss, and I wanted to apologize for my loud outburst. No matter what anyone else said, I took much of the blame for that disastrous encounter.

“What’s a cah-dee-jo?” Taehyung’s voice cut through my thoughts, loud and inquisitive.

“A cadejo,” I corrected, rolling my eyes, “are spirits that guide worthy travelers.”

Taehyung raised an eyebrow. “And if they’re not worthy?”

“They’ll eat them,” I replied with an ease that bordered on nonchalance.

Taehyung had taken a keen interest in my books after discovering something I’d written about the magindara as a child. He devoured them so quickly that I found myself fetching more from the cellar just to keep up. Despite his naivety, Taehyung was a bright young man with an insatiable curiosity. He never settled for a single answer and listened with rapt attention.

“Why?” he asked.

“Why not?”

Taehyung fell silent, returning to his reading. I found myself growing fond of him, wishing he could go back home. The way his eyes lit up when he spoke of his siblings tugged at my heart. His parents must be in a constant state of worry.

After spending most of the morning sitting, I decided to make lunch. Shiloh was due back later that day. Wendy had mentioned that my familiar had arrived at her inn just before sending the letter, so I knew Shiloh was safe. Thinking about her stirred a mix of emotions in me. Exposing her spirit form was a dangerous risk, one I’d never have asked of her, but she had done it anyway.

I approached the kitchen window, whistling loudly as I began pulling out a pot and pan. Tomato soup seemed like the perfect choice, and I could whip up a quick loaf of bread to go with it. Moments later, Delinah appeared at my window. I glanced up from dicing onions, smiling at the deer.

“Morning, Dee,” I greeted.

She dipped her head. “Glad to see you up and about. You gave us all quite a scare.”

I hummed in response, tossing the onions into the pot along with three heads of garlic, some fresh herbs, and a splash of oil. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jimin stirring on the sofa.

“I’m as good as new,” I joked, using a spell to light the stove. “Would you mind fetching some tomatoes from Seokjin’s garden? I’d ask Shiloh, but she’s out of the forest for the day.”

“Where did she go?” Delinah asked, tugging the cloth tote from the windowsill with her mouth.

“Northorn,” I replied.

“Northorn? What’s so important in that dreadful place?”

I laughed, helping her secure the tote around her neck. Delinah nuzzled my hands, and I promised her carrots upon her return.

“To answer your question,” I said, returning to the counter, “Wendy’s trying to run away, so Shiloh’s bringing her back.”

Delinah laughed, “Oh, that Wendy Byrd. She’s a wild card, that one.”

“But we love her.”

Jimin got up as soon as Delinah left, and Taehyung remained engrossed in my book about magical beasts. I took over the task of roasting onions and garlic, letting them caramelize over the open flame. The tomatoes would soon follow. I could hear the two men conversing quietly, but I chose to ignore them. Privacy in this house was a rare luxury.

Delinah returned swiftly, and I sent her off with a bundle of carrots. After roasting the tomatoes, I used my pestle and mortar to blend everything into a smooth puree before adding it to the pot.

“Bridd,” Taehyung called out. “Can I get your opinion on something?”

I nodded. “Ask away.”

“I want to write a letter to Namjoon, but I’m unsure how he’d take it.”

I paused, contemplating. A letter might not help much. Ahn and his tricks made it unlikely that any letter would reach Namjoon. With people actively looking for him, showing his face might only stir up more trouble. Namjoon’s challenge was official, and only revoking it would end the conflict. I had faith in Taehyung’s ability to defend himself if necessary, though his reluctance to fight was apparent. Namjoon’s determination was formidable, but I doubted it would come to a lethal confrontation.

“I don’t think it would help much,” I said. “You know Ahn’s methods. A letter might not even get through.”

Taehyung sighed in defeat, and I felt a pang of sympathy. I understood his predicament all too well. I remembered Aldara’s lessons in defensive magic, though I had never been able to strike her. It wasn’t until that fateful night that I realized my potential for harm. I shuddered at the thought, wishing no one, especially Taehyung, had to face such a fate.

“I’m sorry it has to be this way,” I said, mixing the soup.

“Me too,” Taehyung replied.

We ate lunch in silence. Jimin was unusually quiet, his mind clearly occupied. Being away from his pack for three days must have been weighing on him. Wolves were creatures of family, and the silence must have been particularly hard for him.

Taehyung didn’t ask anything more after that. He spent the rest of the day sprawled on the floor by the fireplace, devouring book after book, while Jimin gazed out of the windows and scribbled in a journal. They stayed inside, avoiding the outdoors. I managed to complete a few chores, practice some new spells, and jot down notes in my grimoire. The atmosphere was stifling, and it wasn’t until Shiloh returned at sunset that the house stirred with activity.

In a flurry of feathers and screeches, the barn owl flew through my bedroom window, her voice echoing off the walls. I hastily threw my pen onto my grimoire, the black ink smearing across the pages in a ruinous streak. I didn’t care; Shiloh was back, and that was enough.

“Between those wolves and you witches,” she complained, “I’ll never catch a break.”

“Oh, Shiloh,” I cooed, opening my arms to her.

My familiar dove into my embrace, letting herself be fussed over. I petted her head, smoothing down her feathers. She leaned into my touches, and I couldn’t recall the last time I had smiled so broadly.

“You’re so strong and mighty, little one. I missed you dearly.”

She laughed, “I’m glad to see you up and moving again.”

“Where’s Wendy?” I asked, releasing her from my hug.

Shiloh flew into the kitchen, and I followed. She pecked at the leftover bread from lunch and took note of the wolves still lounging in the living room. She seemed pleased they were still there and gave a nod of approval to Taehyung. I chuckled at her antics.

“She’ll be back after her sister’s wedding.”

“Oh, wonderful!” I clapped my hands together in delight.

“Another pain in my ass,” Shiloh muttered.

And I laughed. I laughed and laughed and laughed.

Transformation was always an adjustment. Even now, after all this time, I still felt disoriented by the process. On Taehyung’s first night here, he nearly broke down my bedroom door in his panic to check on me. If Jimin hadn’t reassured him, I was sure Taehyung would have been deeply traumatized. Tonight was the fourth night, and Taehyung slept soundly through my night terrors. Shiloh had gone to bed early, leaving Jimin as the only one awake when I flew in through the kitchen window.

He wore the same clothes he had for days—something I had hand-washed twice but he refused to part with. I had made clothes for Taehyung, but Jimin’s

 rejection of them stung. I never brought it up again, simply washing and magically drying them. Tonight, Jimin had removed his usual long cape, his socks and shoes were missing, and his belt was nowhere to be seen. His hair fell loose, cascading to his waist, and a simple headband kept his bangs out of his eyes. He sat at the kitchen island, engrossed in whatever he was writing.

“Hello,” he greeted, offering a tired smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

He looked worn out, more so than usual, and Taehyung snored loudly on the floor, rolling over without a care. Jimin continued to scribble on the papers, unperturbed. I hopped closer and peered at the writing, recognizing the familiar scrawl.

It was the paper I had used during my visit a few weeks ago. Seeing it brought a wave of emotions, my heart swelling with affection. The fact that he had kept it, carried it around, left me breathless.

I’m feeling better.

Not if it’s something you like.

I love blueberries.

You did nothing wrong, Alpha. I promise.

“It brings me comfort,” Jimin whispered, his voice trembling in the dim moonlight. “Knowing that you’re out there.”

I turned toward him and saw the tears streaming down his face, illuminated by the pale, ethereal glow of the moon. For the first time since I’d known him, there was a clarity in my own heart. I fluttered my wings and landed softly in his lap, pressing my face against his stomach. The warmth within me radiated, and I could feel the tension in his body slowly dissolve.

He clutched me tightly, his sobs coming in ragged gasps. What sorrow gnawed at him, I wasn’t entirely sure, but it was clear it had something to do with the turmoil around us. I melted into his embrace, his openness a balm to my weary spirit. I found myself yearning for him to hold me as a lover would, but I pushed the thought aside. Greed felt like a bitter pill to swallow, especially when it came to the emotional exchange I saw before me.

“I don’t know what to do,” he whimpered, his voice breaking. “I understand them both, know that neither of them are happy with the way they left things, but I can’t do anything about it. I don’t want to leave Taehyung, but I don’t want to watch my friends tear each other apart over a misunderstanding.”

And oh, how angry I was with Namjoon, how much I wanted to slam him against a wall and scream until my lungs bled. But the truth was, I didn’t wish him dead. We were friends, after all, even if it was a strained, bloody friendship. The alpha allowed himself only two minutes of tears before he wiped his face and set me gently back on the island. He apologized profusely, his voice hoarse and filled with regret before he left the cottage, seeking the solace of the night.

I wanted to follow him, but I knew he needed his space. I glanced at the letter at my feet, feeling a shift in my resolve. What if a letter was considered offensive? They had beaten Taehyung senseless, exiled him, and made his family think he needed to be challenged to keep the pack in line. If a simple letter was the spark that ignited their fury, then I was ready to be the villain. I knew the chances of someone else intercepting Namjoon’s letter were high, but I had to try. I couldn’t bear to see Jimin’s tears again. 

Resolute, I gathered paper and ink, and began to write.

“Y/N,” Auntie whispered, her fingers tangling gently in my hair.

The sun was just a whisper on the horizon, the sky still a deep shade of purple. I struggled to pry my eyes open, moaning as I rubbed my face. Another yawn escaped me, my eyes fluttering shut once more.

Aldara chuckled softly, “Wake up, sleepyhead. Let’s make breakfast together.”

I shook my head, flipping over the pancake on the stove. In the dining room, Taehyung, Jimin, and the witches discussed the best fishing spots in Bangtan. Seokjin and Yoongi had dropped by unannounced, and while I was puzzled by their sudden visit, I assumed it had something to do with Wendy. Jin looked surprised by the presence of the wolves and asked to speak with me privately once breakfast was over. I heard Taehyung questioning whether vegan pancakes could taste good, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

I had adopted a vegetarian diet after Aldara passed. With the inability to leave my home, meat became a distant memory. Four years ago, after growing closer with the critters around me, I’d eliminated animal products entirely. It felt wrong to consume a creature I could have known.

“They’re not that different from ‘normal’ ones,” I explained, plating the fresh pancake. “I just use oat flour, bananas, and flaxseeds mixed with water. Everything else is the same.”

I could imagine Taehyung’s disgusted face, though it was hidden from view. His expressions of confusion, disgust, and anger were all shades of the same emotion. Yoongi laughed, and it brought a smile to my face. Yoongi and I shared similar lifestyle choices, though he indulged in fish with Seokjin from time to time.

“Why mix flaxseeds and water?” Taehyung asked, his bewilderment dripping from every word.

I handed him a plate, “It replaces the egg. You mix it with the banana and let it sit to thicken. A boy named Enver taught me. He lives in Moland and doesn’t have regular market access.”

Jimin’s curiosity perked up, “How do you get your supplies?”

“I go often,” Seokjin answered. “I always pick up things for Yoongi and Y/N when I go. Yoongi does the same.”

I nodded, “I have great friends.”

After breakfast, Yoongi invited Taehyung and Jimin for a walk in the forest. Taehyung’s newfound fascination with the local beings had piqued Yoongi’s interest, and he offered to show him a jackalope borough nearby. Jimin chose to join them to keep an eye on Taehyung. I could tell he was giving Seokjin and me the space to talk. As they left, I began clearing the dishes with Jin’s help.

We worked in silence, the rhythm of our tasks speaking volumes. Jin’s hesitation was palpable, a strange thing for someone so usually forthright. His mouth opened and closed as if he was trying to find the right words, but I remained patient. Wendy had a knack for throwing him off balance, and it was evident in his struggle to articulate his thoughts. 

Once the dishes were done, I wiped down the table and put away the toppings. Jin lingered, focusing on the dishes while I finished. Finally, he spoke, breaking the silence.

“Wendy wrote to me,” he said quietly.

I hummed, not quite ready to delve into the contents of her letter. Privacy was paramount, and I kept many things to myself. We were all too intertwined, and Wendy’s tendency to overshare made things complicated. Seokjin’s habit of spilling secrets didn’t help either. 

“She said she wants to be with me,” he continued.

I sighed, “How do you feel about that?”

He ran a hand through his hair, looking lost. “It’s… complicated.”

I perched on the kitchen island, nodding, “I’m sure I can keep up.”

“For as long as I’ve known her, I’ve liked her in some way,” Jin said, his voice tinged with regret. “She’s never really felt the same about me, at least not as much as I liked her.”

Wendy had always looked away, said one thing and done another, never fully opening her heart to Jin. She admitted liking him, but her gaze often wandered to Yoongi. Initially, I thought Seokjin was reading too much into it, but the pattern was clear. Wendy’s infatuation with Yoongi had always overshadowed her relationships with others, including Jin. 

“I knew she meant it when she said she liked me,” he said. “But how can I be sure she’s serious this time? She’s been away, hasn’t seen anyone in months, and now she says she’s in love with me. What happens when she sees Yoongi again? Will her feelings still hold?”

I felt a pang of sympathy for Seokjin. His heart was true, but his seclusion had left him vulnerable. The world outside Bangtan was vast and filled with possibilities. Telling him there were other options wouldn’t help, though. 

“I don’t want to get hurt again,” he whispered.

“I know,” I replied, holding him gently. “I wouldn’t want that either.”

“How can I trust her words?”

I shook my head, “I’ve always seen you two as stubborn. You care deeply, but the toxicity is unbearable. If you want to try, see what happens. Maybe her time away or seeing her sister’s wedding changed her. Think about what she said and how it resonates with your own feelings.”

“She said she loves me,” he murmured, a hint of relief in his voice. “She said that after talking to you, she felt more confident to speak to me. It was the first time I felt her apology was genuine.”

Silence enveloped us as Seokjin looked down, deep in thought. After a moment, he asked to borrow paper and a pen. I obliged, hoping for a resolution that would bring him some peace. 

He sent off his letter soon after. I resumed sweeping and planning the day, knowing I had to address the supply chain blockage to the sea coven. With Shiloh still recovering from her trip, I would need to wake her for the delivery. Seokjin agreed to write to Cordelia to see if anyone could pick up the supplies. 

In the rare moment of quiet, I could sense Seokjin’s anxiety. I feared the worst but gave him the space he needed. When he finally spoke, his voice cracked.

“I rejected her,” he said.

“Oh, Jinnie,” I cooed, embracing him. “That was a hard choice, but I’m proud of you. You did what was right for yourself.”

“I can’t do it again,” he sobbed. “I just can’t.”

I understood his pain. Wendy’s emotions would simmer, and I’d deal with her later. Seokjin had alluded to remaining friends, but I knew it was a fragile hope. The past had carved deep scars, and I wasn’t naïve enough to believe things could return to how they once were. Still, I hoped for growth and reconciliation, even if it seemed unlikely. 

“I know. I know,” I whispered, soothing him. “We’ll get through this.”

Seokjin clung to me, crying as if his heart would break.

For the next three days, Jimin and Taehyung began to drift further from the confines of the house, venturing into the outside world with an almost frantic urgency. I hadn't heard a word from Wendy or Seokjin, but Yoongi made sure to check in daily. He was obsessed with the idea that I might be facing another unexpected encounter with the wolves, a notion I couldn't entirely dismiss but was resolutely prepared for. It felt as if Hoseok was staying clear to maintain some uneasy peace, though Jimin hinted that he was trying to sway Namjoon. So far, that attempt had fizzled, with Namjoon remaining as grumpy and resentful as ever. Taehyung, on the other hand, was steeling himself for a potential clash, spending his evenings in intense sparring sessions with Jimin.

Shiloh's waking hours had been creeping earlier each day. It wasn't the ungodly hours I was accustomed to, but noon was a far cry from eleven at night. Taehyung and Jimin were still grappling with my late risings. My magic, potent yet taxing, was stretching my limits, and I could sense my body struggling to keep up. My childhood had taught me that magic was a draining force, especially defensive spells. The incident with Namjoon had thrown me off balance, making it difficult to regain my footing.

Aldara used to fret over my fainting spells after our lessons. She said it was unnatural for a witch to be so overwhelmed by their own power, but over the years, I’d come to understand that my magic was an endless well, ever-flowing and never entirely under my control. Unlike other witches, who could regulate their magic output, I was left perpetually vulnerable and weakened. The constant possession and lack of control were the harsh trade-offs of my power. Still, a small outburst no longer left me as depleted as it once did. The last time I’d fainted from magic was the night I discovered the cottage on fire.

As I thumbed through my grimoire, searching for the potion I’d made to reduce anxiety, frustration gnawed at me. Wendy was due back tomorrow, and Cordelia had asked if I could send some to Syrena. I’d only brewed this particular potion twice, and it was still too fresh in my memory for me to recall the exact details. Wendy’s luck would have it that I’d send a shifting potion instead of a mood stabilizer, but I trusted Griselda’s recipe.

My worry for Wendy was growing. Though it was normal to go weeks without communication, I feared she might be upset over the situation with Jin. She must have suspected we’d talked and perhaps thought I’d instructed him on what to do. Or worse, she might have convinced herself that Yoongi had something to do with it. Wendy had a tendency to skew reality, and while I empathized with her, I refused to choose sides between my friends. I loved and respected them both and wished desperately to extricate myself from this web of conflict. After all, Wendy was the one who’d divulged our conversation to Jin in the first place.

My search for the potion left me exasperated. The cluttered chaos of my notes and haphazard scrawl made me wish for a clean slate. Whoever would inherit this mess of a grimoire would need a Rosetta Stone just to decipher half of it. In frustration, I slammed the book shut and decided to write to Enver. He was the only witch I knew who might have such a potion on hand. Rolling the paper carefully, I chanted a spell I’d learned from Pippa’s grimoire and watched as the paper turned to ash and vanished.

Pippa was a true oddball, her methods unorthodox to the point of absurdity. Her spellbooks, filled with incomprehensible diagrams and bizarre ingredients, were a testament to her brilliance. Aldara had always teased me about my fascination with Pippa, calling me the next “nutcase” and mocking my own disorganized grimoire. Still, no one could deny Pippa’s talent. The spell I’d used was a favorite of mine—simple, minimal energy expenditure, and highly effective. I was grateful to be done with meteor powder, even if I had invented that one myself.

The front door slammed open, jolting me upright and sending my heart into a racing frenzy. For a split second, my vision swam in black and white, but I quickly regained my composure. I shot a venomous glare at Taehyung as he swaggered into the cottage, followed closely by Jimin, who offered a sheepish bow before entering.

“It’s such a beautiful day!” Taehyung announced, flopping onto the couch with a dramatic flourish.

My eye twitched.

“Try that again,” I said with icy detachment.

Taehyung’s confusion was palpable. Jimin stood in the doorway, an amused smirk playing on his lips. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, his gaze lingering on me. I struggled to keep my eyes from lingering on his toned back and refocused on Taehyung.

“Try what again?” Taehyung asked, genuinely bewildered.

“Walking into my house like a civilized person,” I retorted. “You act as if you’ve never been taught manners. First, you put your filthy, muddy boots on my counter, and now this? Thin ice, Tae. Thin ice.”

Taehyung scratched his head sheepishly and made the necessary adjustments, gently opening and closing the door. Satisfied, I hummed and returned to my grimoire, mentally cursing the disorganized mess it had become. I longed to slap the younger version of myself who had thought this system would work. Groaning, I stood up and decided to relocate my work to the cellar.

“What are you looking for?” Taehyung asked, his face lighting up with curiosity.

The wolf enjoyed accompanying me and peering over my shoulder, even if he barely understood the Latin script. Jimin hadn’t asked to join but I suspected his silence was his way of being considerate. I wished he would just speak up.

“I need to find a spell for a friend,” I said. “One I wrote when I was twelve. It’s hardly legible now, a testament to my childish carelessness.”

Taehyung laughed and followed me without hesitation. His curiosity was endearing, a stark contrast to Jimin’s restrained demeanor. I wondered about their own childhoods—Jimin had been brave and reserved when we first met, his innocence a distant memory now. Seeing him again, after all these years, was like rediscovering a forgotten chapter of my own life.

“May I join you?”

I paused and looked up at Jimin, who had already begun descending the stairs behind Taehyung. I nodded. The connection we had shared the other night was still fresh, unspoken but undeniable. Jimin’s presence felt like a gentle thawing of the ice that had previously encased him.

After lighting the sconces in the cellar, I found Taehyung curled up in a corner, absorbed in one of Aldara’s monster books. She had been a legend in her own right— the first to defeat a Quietus, the monster slayer of yore. Her stories had become folklore, tales of bravery and struggle. The book Taehyung was engrossed in was one of her own, a collection of short stories about her adventures.

“It’s bigger than I thought,” Jimin whispered.

“It grows whenever we need a new bookcase,” I replied.

Jimin didn’t press for more details, his restraint a byproduct of the alpha etiquette he’d been taught. Taehyung, however, was a novice in those lessons, having barely started them before his exile. I sighed, thinking of Namjoon and my unanswered letter.

“Who was the first Bridd?” Jimin asked.

I smiled as I recalled the tale. “Her name was Rosette.”

“How did this family tradition even start?” Taehyung asked, his voice tinged with genuine curiosity.

Settling into my small desk, I gestured for them to sit. I remembered Aldara’s stories vividly, her hands large and comforting as she spoke of Rosette, the legendary Bridd. Rosette was a figure of beauty and resilience, her story a foundation for our lineage.

“Rosette came from the Foxglove Village, a place once teeming with shifters. She was the daughter of a merchant, loved and admired by all. Life was harsh in Bangtan, but relatively peaceful until the Quietus stories began spreading south.”

Quietus, those ancient air elementals, were the first settlers of Lustra, driven out by the Sarkans over a millennium ago. The attack on Bangtan was retribution for not aiding them, though they had soon reclaimed their territory.

“After the Century War with Etelin, the Quietus were reduced to living in swamps, their numbers dwindling. The few that ventured into the forest were either vengeful survivors or driven mad by starvation.”

Jimin’s expression showed recognition, while Taehyung remained enraptured. I continued, my voice carrying the weight of history.

“These creatures were unknown to the shifters, whose people had only arrived in Lustra after their island was destroyed. Their treaties were new, their numbers sparse. They had no knowledge of the siege until their village was ablaze.”

“The Quietus queen, Nerezza, had lost her youngest child to the Sarkan invasion. Her grief drove her to attack, wrongly believing the Reikans were complicit. In truth, the Reikans were skittish, lacking the courage for true conflict.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” Taehyung interrupted, defensive of his ancestors.

“Yes,” I said, “your ancestors were strong, surviving the loss of their homeland and finding refuge here. But the Reikans were different, their settlers blending into your cultures, while the Quietus were formidable. Only one emerged as significant.”

“Rosette,” Jimin murmured.

“Yes, Rosette. A beautiful girl, her blonde hair and green eyes striking. She was a bird shifter in love with a fox. At just sixteen, she and a few others escaped the village’s destruction. Rosette, familiar with military strategies, directed them to safety.”

“She found herself in this very clearing, calling to the gods for aid. Despite the blizzard, she was enveloped in warmth. The gods offered her help in exchange for a solemn promise. She vowed to protect her sister’s life and, in return, her bloodline would become guardians of the forest.”

“And that’s when we lost our freedom,” I continued. “She woke up in this cottage, chained and imbued with new magic. After a century of solitude, she was given Jordana. We’re assigned a pupil and have sixteen years to train them before our transition to the spirit world.”

“Why can’t you shift freely, then?” Taehyung asked, curiosity piqued. Jimin smacked his arm, but I waved off the gesture.

No harm in asking.

“Our transformations are tied to the cycles of the sun and moon. The gods have a special fondness for watching us dance across the skies, like wayward comets caught in their eternal dance. We’re fortunate we managed to keep that part of ourselves as part of the bargain. Magic and shifting? They’re practically myths beyond these woods.”

Taehyung’s eyes glinted with curiosity. “Is it the same for real werewolves? The sun and moon stuff?”

I let out a laugh, sharp and dismissive. “No, silly. Werewolves are shackled to the full moon. Their first transformation turns them into mindless beasts. They’re as good as dead within three months. Nothing like what you and I are.”

Taehyung seemed mollified by this explanation. He often referred to himself as a werewolf, much to Jimin’s annoyance. I understood why Jimin would bristle at that. Real werewolves were born into their condition, their bloodlines ancient and unbroken. Werewolves, on the other hand, were made, not born, and their kind was dwindling in the Ozryn Mountains, starved out and hunted down. The last outbreak had been decades ago, swiftly contained by the dwarves of Idris.

When the story ended, Taehyung returned to his reverie with Aldara’s book, and I resumed my fruitless search for that infuriating potion. I hadn’t heard back from Enver; his response times were always abysmal.

Jimin wandered the cellar, tracing the spines of the books. The sheer volume was staggering. Aldara had penned over forty grimoires in her lifetime, each a testament to her expertise in defensive magic. Rosette had authored 120, Jordana had 205, and Griselda held the record with 223. I could hardly fathom such productivity. I’d managed only three grimoires so far, and was plodding along on a fourth. My youthful exuberance for magic seemed a distant memory now, replaced by a more somber approach. Overwhelmed by self-doubt, I decided to take a break.

“Your aunt was pretty amazing,” Taehyung remarked.

“Yeah, she was,” I replied, the word "was" hanging in the air like a specter.

As the evening darkened, we had spent hours in the cellar. Jimin skimmed through books with the quiet diligence of a scholar, while Taehyung absorbed stories from Aldara’s collection. I flipped through Pippa’s spell books, making small talk with Taehyung. His constant chatter was a refreshing distraction from the oppressive silence of the house.

Taehyung had gone up for a nap over an hour ago, leaving Jimin and me alone. He was huddled over a book, his brow furrowed in concentration, his tongue sticking out slightly. I couldn’t help but steal glances at him, though he remained silent about my furtive glances. It was a rare sight to see him so relaxed, so unguarded. Shiloh had mentioned she was visiting Morla to update her on Wendy’s situation. Mumbling to myself, I let the pen and ink I’d brought down write in my spell book. Sometimes it was easier to let magic handle the tedious parts.

Amid the grimoires and dusty tomes, I made notes of potential experiments. They might not be as thrilling as Pippa’s wild concoctions or as direct as Griselda’s precise spells, but they were my own. I was rediscovering the joy of magic, a pleasure Aldara would have appreciated.

“Bridd?” Jimin’s voice broke the silence, soft and inviting.

I looked up, noticing how his hair caught the candlelight, turning dark gray with stray wisps floating around. I wanted to smooth them down, but restrained myself. Jimin’s expression was a carefully maintained mask, a necessity for someone in his position. Yet, I glimpsed a fleeting smile, a rare crack in his stoic facade.

“Why don’t you have anything here?” he asked.

“Everything I own is upstairs,” I answered. “It’s too much trouble to haul it all down here every time I need to work.”

He chuckled. “So, you do have a diary?”

I flushed. “All of us do. It’s the best way to keep track for our successors.”

I wouldn’t let him read mine. It was filled with thoughts I’d long preferred to forget. During my more turbulent years, I’d penned five separate volumes of angst and sorrow. The idea of anyone reading them—especially Jimin—was mortifying. They were raw, unfiltered, a record of my darkest fears and desires. Thankfully, they had gone unnoticed until now.

“Yours must be very interesting,” Jimin mused.

I shook my head. “Not really. Mostly just teenage angst. Nothing worth reading.”

I tried to sound convincing, but Jimin’s probing gaze made me uneasy. I began tidying up, stacking grimoires, knowing it was nearing sunset. I needed to get back to my room soon.

As I turned, Jimin’s arms encircled my waist, surprising me. My heart leaped into my throat. He was so close I could count the freckles on his nose, see the length of his eyelashes, feel his warm, heavy scent envelop me. His proximity was overwhelming. I gripped the desk, struggling to speak.

“Jimin?” I managed, my voice trembling.

“Can I tell you something?” he whispered, his breath warm against my ear.

Our bodies pressed together, his hands behind my back, though his grip remained on the table. I glanced at his hands, one resting on the other. Shaking with nervous energy, I forced myself to meet his gaze.

“Can I?” His eyes were as dark and intense as a stormy night.

A shiver crawled up my spine. I nodded, breath catching in my throat. Jimin’s smile was tender, almost ethereal.

“I enjoy your company.”

I could only manage another nod, my heart pounding, my throat dry. Jimin’s face inched closer to mine. I held my breath, searching for meaning in his eyes. This was not the man who had been absorbed in reading moments before. This was something different, something potent and unsettling.

“I like being close to you. Is that alright?”

“Yes,” I whispered, barely audible.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his breath barely brushing my lips.

I knew I should have resisted, should have acknowledged the impossibility of our situation. Our lives were too tangled, our paths too divergent. He had a mate somewhere, and he’d forget me soon. Yet, despite all that, I shook my head.

“No.”

The kiss was unlike anything I’d ever known. Jimin’s lips were warm and insistent, igniting a fire within me. The heat was searing, electrifying, igniting every nerve ending. I clung to him, his embrace all-consuming. Everything I had feared, everything I had regretted, melted away. It didn’t matter anymore. Jimin was here, and he was mine.

When he finally pulled away, his gaze was soft, full of warmth and care. He nuzzled into my hairline, his touch a balm against the chaos. 

“Thank you,” he whispered.

I was dazed but managed to nod. As if drawn by an invisible force, I sought his lips again. Jimin’s hands cradled my face, pulling me closer. Any gentleness evaporated when my tongue brushed his bottom lip. A low growl rumbled from him as he hungrily explored my mouth. His grip tightened, his leg gently prying mine apart, lifting me onto the desk. My fingers dug into his shirt.

A sudden chill shot through me, yanking me out of the haze of passion. I pulled away, and Jimin stepped back, understanding dawning in his eyes. I choked out a “go” and stood up from the desk. The first feather burst through my skin as Jimin fled the cellar, leaving me alone with my searing heart and the cold void of my own fear.

Translations:

Swîgian âstillian. - Be quiet.

Hwæt−hwugu ðrîstian êow? - How dare you?

Sê ðafian êower m¯ægð teohhian êower weorðfulnes? - Who do you people think you are?

Yfel am sorig. - I am so sorry.

Thither is êower hygd? - Where is your mind?

Belāda mē - Sorry.

Quare? - Why?

Putasne me stultum esse? - Do you think I'm stupid?

Sol a me auferre conaris! - You are trying to take Sol from me!

Quid irrumabo facimus? - What the fuck do we do?

Nescio. - I don’t know.

Recedite ab ea! - Get away from her!

Licuitne futura est? - Is she going to be alright?

Taglist: @greezenini​ @adventures-in-bookland​ @kthstrawberryshortcake-main​ @zae007live @jimin-neverout @nikkiordonez12 @canarystwin​ @yamekomz @chimthicc​ @michiiedreamer​ @amorieus​ @mima795​

© chimcess, 2023. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[minkkumaz]

A SUMMER WITH YOU

spending your first time with your friend woonhak made you yearn for more time together. you had the whole summer ahead of you, and maybe you wanted to be a little bit more than friends.

THE DAY I MET YOU series

PAIRING kim woonhak x fem!reader WC 6.4k TAGS adults dni. fluff. mutual pining. they're so in love oh my gosh. cocky woonhak for a hot minute. kissing wink wink. TAGLIST @woon2u @lumixen @woonhakist @jungwoning OMI NOTE holy shit i've been absolutely dreading writing this but i finally pulled through SEVENTEEN pages later god i am literally tearing up because i finished. definitely not proofread and i am not sorry for any spelling mistakes.

that night probably changed the entire trajectory of your summer. once you were secure behind your closed curtains, you jumped up and down with pure happiness, before lunging yourself on your bed to scream into your soft pillows. how the hell did you end up getting courage to be so casual with woonhak?

you rolled on your back to stare up at the ceiling, holding his cardigan close to your chest. the scent of it was very prominent, making your face heat up. the whole thing replayed in your head in an endless loop, making you lightheaded trying to think about it. there was something about him.

what if it was the way he looked at you, making you feel as if there was a slight chance he felt the same way? your heart fluttered at the thought of it, unable to hide your smile. sleep came easy as you dreamt about the handsome boy next door.

the morning greeted you with melodic chirps of numerous birds, and the sound of an object hitting against the glass of your bedroom window. wait, what? 

jumping out of bed, you slipped your feet into cozy slippers and approached your curtains to unravel them. as you revealed the outside world, the light made you rub your eyes sleepily in an attempt to adjust. 

in front of you was woonhak, whom you could not stop thinking about last night. he wore a grin on his face and gestured for you to open your window. if you weren’t awake a few seconds ago, you were now.

“morning, sleepyhead. did i wake you?” he asks curiously at your tired figure. though he was entirely trying to keep his cool. it felt like when he met you for the first time, and he was convinced there wasn’t a time that you weren’t absolutely adorable.

“a little, what time is it?” you hum.

“just a bit after eight am. i– i was wondering if you wanted to come over for breakfast! jaehyun is cooking as an apology for making us leave early last night.” his words have underlying desperation. how could you tell him no?

“sounds good, woon, i’ll be over in a sec, kay? just need to wake up a little.” you mumble, moving off into your room without closing the window. in the corner of your eye you saw him running off downstairs like a puppy.

slipping on woonhak’s cardigan, you lazily make your way to the bathroom. once you turn on the tap to splash your face with water, you feel a little more awake. you go throughout the rest of your usual morning routine; brushing your teeth, applying skin care, and using other products to refresh yourself.

ready to go over, you shoot your mom (aka, the less strict parent) a message to let her know you’ll be at the neighbors house for breakfast. she was an early riser, definitely much so in comparison to your dad. and to add onto that, she was much more understanding. 

neither of your parents knew about this mystery boy yet, but it was better to briefly tell your mom rather than your dad. he would probably kill you and forbid you from going outside the house ever.

you crossed over to woonhak’s front door and knocked. there was a little bit of laughing behind the door and what you’d assume to be harmless fighting, before he opened to greet you. “hi– ahm come in!” woon’s eyes immediately darted to the piece of clothing that wrapped you snuggly. the piece of clothing that just so happened to be his.

“thank you for inviting me over woon.” you tell him, toeing off your shoes to set to the side and walk in. “uhm, i also have your cardigan from last night!”

in your attempt to take it off he rushes to pull it back over your shoulder, “no– don’t even worry about the cardigan. it’s still kind of cold, yknow aha… unless you want another sweater i have plenty upstairs but um! for now you can wear it is what i mean…”

“thank you then!” you smile, trying your best not to make him feel awkward.

when he walked alongside you into his kitchen, you saw the familiar faces sitting around a table and passing around plates. the sight was really cute, boys in your previous state were much more mundane when it came to their friendships. it was refreshing to see everyone taking care of one another. because of this observation you realized you never really got all of their names.

“hey, y/n! did you and woonhak have fun last night?” jaehyun, the only one you knew, asked you while wiggling his eyebrows.

“yeah! the party was a lot of fun, i appreciate the invite.” woonhak pulled out a chair for you to sit down next to him. blushing, you take a seat.

“i realized about two seconds ago that i never really introduced these guys properly.” woonhak said.

you sigh with the relief that you wouldn’t have to ask. he pointed to each boy as they waved back at you.

“jaehyun, he’s kind of like the leader of our little friend group. sungho, his shoulders are crazy broad and he’s always planning ahead. leehan, the fish fetishizer. riwoo, the tame one. and taesan, every corner you turn he’s taking a photo.” he explains in one breath, taking a deep inhale afterwards.

“fish fetishizer? really?” leehan rolled his eyes, smirking at woonhak.

“i only speak the truth.”

“oh then you wouldn’t mind me telling y/n about how last night you called us scream–” jaehyun tried before getting cut off by a tater tot being chucked across the table.

“shut up jaehyun! i think that nose bleed went to your head.” woonhak mumbled nervously.

“my bad bro. y/n, don’t mind him he’s a little feisty in the morning.” jaehyun jokes before handing you a plate.

the rest of you talked casually as you ate the (somewhat burnt) food jaehyun prepared. one might think that being in a group with your boy crush and all of his best friends would be awkward, however it was anything but that. they were just as welcoming as woonhak was. having the right people to hang out with wouldn’t be as difficult to find as you initially thought

there was much laughter around the table, and lots of teasing towards woonhak. some things you learned were that they were all trying to start a band called boynextdoor. ironic, right? and that they all had their own distinguished hobbies. each boy extremely unique and likable, but woon was always your favorite.

once breakfast was finished up, you all went in woonhak’s room to hang out some more. he had a lot of basketball related things around, as well as actual basketballs. but what caught your attention enough was the large teddy bear in the corner. you immediately went towards it and wrapped the bears arms around you.

“so, what were you guys wanting to do?” taesan wondered out loud, scrolling on his phone.

“we could hit up the arcade that just opened up down the street! i heard they have really good food in there too.” jaehyun suggested eagerly.

“oh shit, do they have pizza?” riwoo perked up.

“that’s basically criminal if an arcade doesn’t have pizza, so they better.” woonhak claimed.

“i think it would be fun! i enjoy arcades.” you beamed at the idea, having not been to an arcade in awhile.

following your minor discussion, a gameplan was decided. you would all go home to get ready, then meet up in about half an hour to leave for the arcade. once it was settled, you left them to run back to your house.

it didn’t take very long for you to get ready. you hastily dug through your closet to find something nice to wear, holding up the different options to your body. you settled on something casual and comfortable to get you through the day.

a mixture of feelings stirred in your stomach as you walked down the stairs, and left back over to woonhak’s house. all of his friends were very kind and welcoming to you, it was a breath of fresh air. this made you smile to yourself before knocking on the door again.

woonhak gave you a familiar up and down look when he opened the door.

“hi! have we met before?” you joked, playing with the hem of your top.

“maybe we have, maybe we haven’t.” he played along, gesturing you to come inside. you ran up the stairs, quickly met with the boys you were with not too long ago. 

riwoo and leehan were doing god knows what, laughing like crazy people. you grinned at jaehyun’s confused expression before woonhak appeared behind you once again.

“y/n’s ready! let’s head out.” he grinned, putting two hands on your shoulders to shake you lightly. 

“is it far?” you turn your head to look at the boy, underestimating the proximity of your faces. he lets out a sudden exhale that brushes against your eyes, making you blink. the rest of the boys watched silently, holding back a laugh at the awkward moment.

“um– it isn’t that far, right guys?” he stammers.

“totally not far at all pshh”

“just a ten - fifteen minute walk yeah.”

the boys murmured over eachother as the two of you pulled away, your red face continued to deepen. everyone paraded out of the bedroom in an instant while you tread on the heels of woonhak. it’s not like you guys haven’t gotten super close before. all things considered, you kissed him on the cheek. so why was it different now?

you paid it no mind, instead trying to replace your thoughts with eagerness to spend the day playing games and eating yummy food. 

as soon as you got to the arcade, your vision was immediately swarmed with glow in the dark lights and the booming sound effects of video games. there were colorful stars lining up the carpet and a handful of kids running around, drunk on energy.

there was a chorus of ‘wow’s’ from the group, woonhak enthusiastically pointing at some of his favorite games while jaehyun was hopping around him. their bond was noticeable, puppy on puppy behavior if you had to compare it to something. 

tables and chairs were placed around a certain part of the scenery, where the smell of food wafting through the air became obvious that it was the food court. riwoo yelled over the noise to alert the rest, saying something about how good the food looked.

the loudness gave you the slightest bit of a headache, but you tried to ignore the discomfort in a futile attempt.

“you okay?” woonhak asked, getting eerily close to make sure you hear him.

“yeah! my head just hurts a little bit, this is definitely a lot louder than the party!” you shrug it off, not thinking much of it since you assumed it would pass.

“no worries! here, would this make it better?” he scavanged through his pocket before pulling out an airpods case. you examined him, puzzled at how they would help. 

woonhak pulled your face a little bit closer, pushing a pod into each of your ears, holding his hands over them for a second before letting you go. there was significant noise cancelling, making everything slightly quieter. 

“better?” he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear that was caught in the ear bud.

“yes.. thank you.” you nodded timidly.

by the time you went to look around for the remainder of the group, they seemed to be all at their respective games. riwoo and sungho were head to head in a game of mario cart, using their whole bodies to turn the steering wheel.

“guess it’s just us then? what do you want to play?”

“we can do whatever you want to do! weren’t you looking at the basketball game?” you try to think back to what he was pointing at, but his face lights up telling you your answer.

“if you want to see me absolutely dominate then i’d love to take you over to basketball.” he brags, wiping imaginary dust off his shoulders.

“let’s see if you can live up to that then, yeah?”

“you’re on.” he holds his hand out for you to grab, and you take it with confidence. you giggle as he drags you over to the basketball game, excited to show you his talents.

“watch the pro handle it! if i beat the highscore you owe me a favor coupon.” woonhak smirks, swiping the card against the reader and handing it to you before the timer begins.

“and if you don’t, i get one! so you better win before i make you do something stupid like kiss jaehyun.” you light - heartedly threaten, amused at the shivers woonhak visibly gets.

the bright red numbers count down to zero, initiating the game to start. woon swiftly grabs each basketball and chucks it into the basket. most of them make it with nothing but net, making you doubtful of the little bet you guys enforced.

the counter continued to rise as you watched in horror, as he was unexpectedly really good the game. fortunate to him, he got one last point that secured his high score. tickets poured out of the machine while he cockily looked back at your wide eyes.

“oh my goodness i won!” he smiled, ripping the tickets from the feeder. 

“okay maybe i underestimated you a little bit, that was actually really impressive.” you complimented, clapping lightly.

“i impressed you?” he blushed, biting back a huge smile.

“don’t make me take it back woonhak!” you said, making him laugh at your response. he pushed the pile of tickets in his hands into a complimentary bag they gave upon purchasing your credits.

“let’s see what game you’re good at now! your turn to pick the game.” discussed with you, slinging the bag back over his shoulder.

“can we try stacker so you can watch me beat the high score as well?” you declared.

“hey, for the record we don’t get a bet for this one! i already beat you fair and square and my favor coupon is looking real nice in my head.” 

“then– if i win you have to win me something from the claw machine!”

“pft, i’d do that for you anyways, y/n.” he poked your cheek before walking away from you to the stacker game. where’d all this random courage from him come from?

once you got to the machine, you were focused enough to happily say that you were able to keep your word as you quickly beat the game. a few passerbys gaped at you surprised. arcades weren’t normally something you went to all the time, but when you did, you had a history with the stacker machine.

blue blocks moving side to side became written in your brain cells while you put on a spectacular performance. a large ‘jackpot’ sign flashing on the screen.

“guess i’ll be walking out with a stuffed toy, right?” you hold your hands behind your back, looking up at woonhak cheekily.

“guess you will.” he exaggerated a sigh, trying not to dwell on how cute you looked right now.

“there’s one just around the corner that i saw when we were coming to this one. it had a lot of cute plushes, can we try that one?”

“you have too much faith in me.” he complained, walking with you to the crane of your dreams.

pastel sanrio plushies littered the floor of the bottom, with a large claw towering over it. your eyes sparkled as you stared at the one you wanted, immediately jumpy.

“woon i think i might explode, this yellow cinnamoroll is so precious!” you awed, making your plushie obsession quite obvious.

“i’ll try to get it  for you using my magic skills.” he teases, pressing the card into the reader. music started playing and he wrapped his hand around the joystick, focusing carefully on the one you wanted.

the claw unfolded, grasping the edge of the stuffed animal before closing on nothing, leaving you empty handed for the time being.

“trust me i’ll get it the next time!”

approximately twenty - two more attempts later, woonhak finally got you the plushie. you were practically sleeping over the machine until you felt it shake, as something dropped down the bottom. he placed it in your arms while you got all of your energy back to smile ear to ear.

“oh my gosh after the eighth attempt i didn’t think it would happen!” you expressed your doubt.

“hey i told you i’d get it. a promise is a promise, right?” 

“thank you, woon! i really love it.” you hugged him, your cinnamaroll still in your hands behind his back. 

he was tall enough that his head rested comfortably against the top of your head. you would’ve stayed like this for longer if you didn’t hear the call of your names over the ambiance of the arcade. the two of you pulled away shyly, seeing jaehyun wave you both over.

“guys! we’re about to order food, taesan is looking for a booth for us.” jaehyun called out as you approached him.

“damn riwoo must be really hungry.” woonhak kid around.

“don’t mess with riwoo and his appetite, he’ll probably order two whole pizza’s.”

all of you joked while finding the other four boys seated at a booth. the server had just left, leaving room for all of you to squeeze into the leather seats. you sat in one of the corners with woonhak, sungho settled next to you. 

“you already ordered?” jaehyun asked.

“yeah we just got three pizzas and some chicken wings. that cool?” riwoo informed you guys since you had just gotten there. 

“pizza sounds great. i’ve been craving it ever since you mentioned it at the house.” you added.

“it’s not really busy over here so they said it should come out quick.” leehan mentioned.

there was busy conversation amongst you all while waiting for the food to come out. you heard the tales of how sungho apparently ‘destroyed riwoo’s sorry ass’ in mario cart while leehan was casually playing frogger by himself the entire time. 

and apparently, jaehyun wiped all his credits on the spin wheel games that he settled for watching taesan play fruit ninja for the past two hours. you happily bragged your stuffed animal that woonhak won you, ignoring the smirks and wiggling of eyebrows they all gave him.

as the grumbling of everyones stomachs got louder, all of the food came out just on time. sungho helped clear the table to make room before everyone immediately began digging in.

laughter was shared over the shit ton of food that riwoo ordered, as well as a small debate whether pineapple actually belonged on pizza or not (and you stood proudly on the pineapple side, because there’s nothing wrong with a little sweet on a banging savory dish). 

yet in between all of this, the food was gone as quickly as it came. a second round of wings as well as some dessert was ordered, but you just leaned back completely full. seeing riwoo and leehan absolutely obliterate the menu was funny to watch, but nothing you’d be able to do yourself. 

“what do you mean you’re not as good at fruit ninja as i am?! i beat the high score like twice!” taesaen argued with jaehyun.

“okay bro, but i’m just saying if you had let me get behind the screen i would’ve devoured you!” jaehyun scoffed playfully.

you watched their argument, barely noticing the yawn that left your lips.

“are you tired already?” woonhak looked at your half - lidded eyes.

“a little bit. standing there watching you fail miserably at the claw machine tuckered me out.” 

“um– here.” he pat his lap gently, “you can lay down– only if you want to i know you’re tired and i think we’ll be sitting here for awhile so–” you cut him off by letting your head fall against his lap, the rest of the boys too caught up in conversation to notice.

“thank you woon.” you spoke sleepily, staring at him through your eyelashes.

“of course..” his words wobbled, feeling tense at the closeness.

and while normally you’d be freaking out, you were too exhausted to care. you found amenity with the slight touch of the skin below his shorts against your head. it made you feel close to him, immediately being lulled to sleep.

the boy above you could only stare at your sleepy expression, making you look more perfect than you already were. he let his hand cup the side of your face to prevent you from slipping off, slightly intertwined with your hair.

you lay like this for a bit, clutching the soft yellow fur of your plushie to your chest. woonhak thought that you made something so mundane like sleeping look so beautiful. you cuddled your cheek into his hand unknowingly. making him grin.

nobody around the two of you noticed how long you’d been asleep for until sungho’s hand brushed against your shoe that was closely curled up against the rest of your body. in an attempt to apologize he realized you weren’t awake, and woonhak was too caught up staring at you.

“you look kind of creepy staring at her woonhak.” sungho’s words snap woonhak out of his intense gaze.

“what? i wasn’t i was just zoning out a little.” woonhak rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand.

“oh my god you were totally staring at her! you like her, right?” jaehyun shouted, making woon quickly cover your ears in the case you woke up and heard.

“dude!”

“you’re like leehan when he’s staring at his fish, so i’d be crazy to think you didn’t like her.” taesan chimes in from across the table.

“how did she fall asleep anyways? i’s really loud in here.” riwoo mumbles with a full mouth.

“she was just tired. it’s starting to get late so we should dip soon.” woonhak suggested.

there was a simultaneous agreement around the table, so everyone began to clean up and pay while you still slept soundly. 

“are you gonna wake her up?” leehan asked woonhak as everyone else started to get out of the booth.

“ah– i don’t want to bother her.” he thought to himself for a moment, before getting an idea. “actually leehan can you help me get her on my back? i’ll just carry her back home it’s not that far away anyways.”

leehan nodded with approval, helping get you on woonhak’s back. woon moved your arms around his neck and held you by the scruff of your knees. once you were properly settled, he followed the rest of his friends out of the loud interior of the arcade.

“woonhak!!” jaehyun whined, “you’re so cute why don’t you carry me around like that.”

“sleep with one eye open, jae.”

you felt your body bouncing up and down slightly with every step woonhak took. the boys conversed while walking down the sidewalk, as it became more audible the more awake you became. as your eyes stirred open, you felt fluffy hair tickling the side of your face. which now you reallize was woonhak’s.

the crook of his neck was warm from you resting your head there, and the breeze was light in the air. you squeezed your hands tighter around him, letting out a quiet hum.

“you awake?” woonhak whispered as you let out a muffled ‘mhm’ into his shoulder.

“was i asleep for long..?” your voice was a bit cracky from just waking up.

“probably for like an hour? we left ten minutes ago, i’m surprised you didn’t wake up while i tried getting you on my back.” he explained to you.

“oh my– i’m sorry woon you should’ve woke me up!” you became more awake now, feeling embarrassed.

“y/n it’s fine! i really don’t mind at all. we’re super close to the house so just hold on for now, yeah?”

“hh okay…”

you let woonhak carry you back to your shared street, holding yourself close to him in order not to fall. he felt the rise an fall of your chest against his back, making him aware that he wouldn’t of done this for anyone but you (maybe jaehyun if he begged hard enough).

and when the houses grew near, you found yourself disappointed of another night coming to an end. you didn’t want to leave him, hoping that these nights could last forever and ever. 

pulling up to the familiar grass spot in between your houses, he gently lowered you back on the floor. though he made sure to hold you in case you stumbled. 

“this feels familiar. almost like we did it last night too.” you pointed out.

“let’s hope it doesn’t feel repetitive for the rest of the summer.” 

“right.. thank you again for tonight woonhak, it was nice to properly meet all of your friends and whatnot.” 

“what can i say? you’re apart of the group now.” he answered, putting his cold hands in the pockets of his varsity jacket.

“i’m glad to of been welcomed so quickly, i really like hanging out together.” you mentioned. 

“then i’ll see you tomorrow with something new to do, y/n.” 

woonhak watched as you walked back into your house once again, a sight that he hoped he would get used to for the rest of the summer. or preferably, the rest of forever.

everyday beyond this point you hung out with woonhak and his friends. they welcomed you into their daily activities and random nonsense, making you feel optimistic for the future. and over time, you became a lot more comfortable around all of them.

you bonded with the boys a lot, and some of the times they would side with you over woonhak to see him get mad. shooting him with waterguns when the sun was barely rising over your homes, pulling harmless pranks like zip - tying the spokes of his bike to the chain stay. just a lot of stupid things that helped you grow closer to the group.

playful teasing always ensued between you and jaehyun, meaningless arguments over who woonhak loves more. and despite all fun and games, it has always been you. ever since you moved next door it has never stopped being you.

maybe love was stupid, how quickly it can change people. however the feelings he had for you didn’t change him, rather make him a better version of himself. 

not only did the relationship between you and the other boys grow, there was something about you and him that would always be special. woonhak was extremely driven by physical contact, it was evident with him and jae. 

so even in the least romantic situations like hugging tightly against his back to shield yourself from water balloons, it made both of your hearts flutter.

one month into summer and you wouldn’t trade it for the world. you woke up on a slightly hotter morning, sweating from your room feeling like an oven. on your nightstand, your phone was already blowing up from texts from the groupchat and a couple messages from jaehyun saying he’s leaving the group chat forever (but he usually came back in the span of ten minutes after taesan re - invited him).

you opened your window to get some fresh air, adjusting your curtains so they’d stay tied to the side of the frame. across the way, woonhak was doing something on his computer that you couldn’t bother to pay any attention to.

 quickly going to your nightstand to unplug your phone, you shot him a text message.

‘come to the window woonie poopy!’

back at the window frame, you leaned on it with your elbow while waiting for woon’s phone to light up and him to come give you attention. he gave a quick glance to his phone, seeing your name pop up and immediately smiling.

he pulled off his headset and lifted his window open to greet you, “good morning sleepy head.”

“pleasure to see you too, woonhak. do we have any plans for today?” you ran a hand through your messy hair, trying to flatten it a little bit.

“nah not as a group. leehan is busy cleaning up his fish tank today, that’s how you know it’s getting real. sungho and jaehyun are playing video games together right now, i see them both online. for the rest i have zero clue.” he explains everyones plans.

“damn i have nothing to do today then.”

“actually i was thinking we could hang out in a bit. maybe just me and you..?”  he offered. 

“that sounds really nice woon. figure out a plan and i’ll go over to you!” you exclaimed, rushing to go get ready. 

when you got to the bathroom, you quickly did your morning routine, not to keep woonhak waiting. the slightest bit of toothpaste dribbled down the side of your mouth while you fought with the jammed cabinet, trying to get out your deodorant. 

once you were finished with everything, you applied little bits of makeup and put on your jewelry that would match with the outfit. you ended up settling with a cute tank top and some of woon’s little boy shorts you stole last time you were at his house.

the fit was complete and you were out the door. the sun felt warm against your skin, swiftly disappearing once you were under the awning of his porch. you left three gentle knocks before you heard someone coming down the stairs to open the door.

“jeez you got ready quick, you ready to go?” he joked.

“wait where are we going anyways, do i need a jacket?” you looked at the light jacket woonhak was wearing over his t - shirt.

“i don’t think so, this is just for the aesthetics. we’re going to the mall, i’ll buy you breakfast there?” he tells you.

“ouh breakfast! can we go to that one spot next to the pasta place in the food court? they have really yummy breakfast burritos.” your stomach grumbled at the thought, he nodded with a laugh. 

woonhak pulled his bike from the garage while you happily sat yourself on the back, holding tightly to his waist like the first time you guys met.

“i think you should invest in a bike soon since we use them so much.” woonhak mentioned while starting off in the direction of the mall.

“are you trying to get me off your back? literally.” you giggled at your own joke.

“i’d never get rid of you i’m just saying!” he tried defending himself.

“whatever whatever, maybe for christmas?”

the ride to the mall was slightly longer than your usual bike ride, but you and woonhak talked so much that it barely felt like five minutes. he had that effect on you, making time pass like crazy. he parked at a nearby bike rack and locked up before coming back to you.

like all shopping centers, it was filled with the rustle and bustle of people carrying multiple bags on their arms. you ran ahead of him towards the food court, craving absolutely anything. 

“woon it’s right here!” you pointed at the sign, waiting for him to catch up.

“just a breakfast burrito right? i might get a pancake combo plate, i’m kind of hungry too.”

“yup! i heard the pancakes are really good here, promise to share a bite with me?” you plead.

“i guess i could give you a little.” he pretends to be annoyed while you’re just beaming with joy.

at the counter he orders while you search for a table nearby, most of them are occupied even though it’s pretty early in the morning. luckily your eyes land on an empty one,  so you seat yourself to wait for him.

woonhak comes back with a tray that holds both of your meals, and you melt at the smell of it growing closer. he places your food in front of you before sitting on the chair.

“thank you woon!” you unwrap the foil from your burrito in awe.

“don’t mention it. here, you can have the first bite.” he cuts into the pancake with his fork, getting a little bit of the whip cream, “say ahh.”

you opened your mouth slightly as he drew the fork to your lips, biting down on the soft batter. as soon as you tasted it your eyes immediately lit up.

“oh my gosh we might have to trade.. this is the best thing i’ve ever tasted.” you practically melt in your seat.

“no way! i didn’t even get to try it yet!”

“okay fine fine, this burrito is just as good.” you pout.

“wait y/n– you have something on your face hold on.” he takes the tip of his finger to wipe a bit of whip cream from the corner of your mouth suddenly, “all better.”

“ahm– thank you…” you thank him sheepishly, darting your eyes away from his.

“it was nothing, let’s eat?”

the two of you began to casually eat your meals, making more talk in between bites. he kept telling you how good the pancake was to tease you, and you might’ve gotten a few more pieces from him after the slightest bit of begging. how could he say no to you?

when you were all done and your stomach’s felt full, you both ventured off into many different stores and browsed through a variety of items.

woonhak spent a decent thirty minutes trying on hats and sunglasses, while you accepted or denied them like you were on tinder. you took many photos of him for memories, laughing together at the stupid point fives you got.

there were also a couple cute outfits you scanned through, woon insisting that he grab something to match because it would be cool. wasn’t that something that couples normally did? you didn’t care much as you two did look really nice side by side.

“that dress looks good on you.” he blushed as you twirled around in front of a mirror.

“you really think so? i don’t know if blue is my color.”

“well for the record it’s one of my favorite colors and you definitely do it justice.”

store after store you ended up with more bags, exhausted from the weight of it all. but as long as you were with him you could learn to ignore all of it.

but there was something that made him uneasy the closer the end of your hangout became, and you couldn’t really figure out why. he fidgeted with his fingers, fixated on you.

“woon there’s a photo booth over there! we should go check it out before we leave yeah?” you tug his arm towards the white machine with a curtain. his heartbeat quickens.

placing your bags outside of it, you move the curtain and climb inside, immediately seeing you and woonhak’s face show up on the screen.

“hmm two strips for five dollars, i think i have a five dollar bill in my wallet actually hold on!” you rummage through your wallet.

“ah– it’s just five dollars i can pay for it, don’t worry.”

“but it was my idea, plus you paid for my breakfast this morning i swear it’s fine.” you furrow your eyebrows, holding the corner of the bill in your hand.

“oops i already put it in.” he slid the money into the slot before a timer popped up, it was too quick to complain so you just set your wallet to the side.

the first photo, you and woon did peace signs, making silly faces towards the camera. the next one after that the distance between the two of you became slightly closer to get the pose right, your thigh touching his.

you intermingled your arms, squeezing eachothers faces cutely to make fish faces. the action makes both of you laugh.

“leehan would like that one.” you emphasized the after shot on the screen before the timer moved back.

“if you show him a photo of me as a fish he might fall in love with me, i don’t know though.” he insisted, making you shove him playfully.

“just hurry up and pose for this next one.”

woonhak smiled big for the camera, leaning his head to touch yours. you smiled as well, feeling a wave of euphoria rush over you after seeing both of you grin so big next to eachother.

in the short moment you pondered what to do next; a hand heart, finger guns? woonhak tapped your leg to get your attention, making your head turn to look at him, faces adjacent.

“uh– can i tell you something, y/n? and you promise you won’t get mad?” he stuttered, his hands gripping onto the hem of his jacket sleeves. “mad? why would i get–” fingertips found their way to the sides of your face, holding you gently, palm barely ghosting over your cheeks. woonhak leaned in to kiss you, lips finding yours perfectly. you both closed your eyes, embracing the sense of familiarity that you felt against him. 3… 2… 1… snap!

the kiss lasted no more than those long three seconds, but the spark in between felt so real. when he pulled away, you heard the sound of your film dispensing outside of the machine. you looked at him with a flushed face, mouth slightly agape.

“i really like you, y/n. and spending time with you this summer has just proved that so much more for me. am i stupid to think that you might like me too?” he confesses, hands still cradling your face.

“woonhak.. no you’re not stupid at all i– i really like you too.” you smile, feeling the pressure of your crush get a little lighter.

“you don’t know how glad i feel to hear you say that holy shit.” he kisses you again and again.

“i almost would’ve told you myself if things didn’t speed up.” you giggled at the feeling of his lips on your cheek. "does this mean i can use my favor coupon to get you to be my girlfriend?"

"of course i'll be your girlfriend, woonhak, it's no favor."

“oh my gosh.. we need to tell the boys they’ll freak out!” he realizes.

“jae will probably cry out of jealousy.”

“yeah no he’ll definitely start crying.” he laughs, trailing his hand down to yours to lace your fingers together. 

woonhak pulled you out of the booth while you picked up your things. he immediately came back to your side with two strips in his hand

the photos held a memory the two of you would never forget. three photos above showing a fond relationship between friends, and the last photo showing something a little more.

© 2023 minkkumaz, all rights reserved support your writers by reblogging + giving feedback! it is greatly encouraged and appreciated. thank you! → why feedback + reblogging is so important. ~ (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ if you'd like, donate to minkkumaz !

THE DAY I MET YOU series

[cloudbersoo]

i like you | zb1 hyung line

synopsis: how zb1 hyung line would confess to you

tags: member x gn!reader, fluff, fluff, just fluff!!

my playlist while writing: dust by seventeen, about you by the 1975

word count: 1.2k in total

a/n: hi again! didn’t think i'd write again so soon but it’s raining and i was bored so here i am. i’d like to thank everyone who read my first fic, the likes made me really happy as i didn’t think that many people would’ve found it in the first place! thank you thank you!!!

kim jiwoong 

i think jiwoong probably approached you with the intent of dating you

so he would be quite straightforward with his feelings right from the begging

he always complimented you and flirted with you, so it wasn’t like his feelings weren’t obvious to you

he’d take you on a nice date and walk you home like a gentleman

would finally confess his feelings to you at your doorstep

your third date with jiwoong was coming to an end as you approached your apartment. every date with him has been better than the previous one. you were comfortable with jiwoong and he seemed like a great guy overall, someone you wouldn’t mind being in a relationship with. you were just waiting for him to make the final move. 

he was still holding onto your hand as you two stood in front of your door. he seemed to be in thought, looking at your intertwined hands. “thank you for tonight” he finally spoke. jiwoong raised his gaze to your eyes, keeping eye contact, as he took a step closer to you. “i’ve really enjoyed spending time with you, and would like to keep going” he continued. his hands now finding their place on your hips.

“i really like you y/n, and i would love to be your boyfriend, if you just let me.”

zhang hao

hao wouldn’t make a big deal out of a confession

he’s pretty sure your feelings are mutual (i mean who wouldn’t like him back?)

so he isn’t stressed about rejection

thinks confessing his feelings to you is just one small step in a larger story

he just had to find the right moment to do it

since meeting hao through a mutual friend about a year ago, you have only gotten closer as time went on. people were usually surprised to hear the two of you weren’t dating, as you apparently acted like an old married couple. you never took such comments too seriously, and you would laugh about it together, while still deep down knowing there was something more than friendship between the two of you.

it was another movie night between you and hao, something that has become an almost weekly thing for the two of you. you had chosen a random romcom where the two main leads were friends, hopelessly in love with one another and had no courage to tell each other how they felt. zhang hao found it ironic that he was watching the movie with you, the person he has been in love with for some time now (and was quite sure you felt the same), and never had the courage to actually do something about the feeling you shared. 

“it’s kinda funny isn't it? we’re just like them.”

sung hanbin

unlike hao, hanbin would make a big deal out of a confession

he’d plan for weeks, asking help from his members

hanbin would be very nervous and would barely be able to sleep the night before

he just wants everything to go well

ends up surprising you with flowers and a speech about how much you mean to him

hanbin has been acting weird for a few weeks now, but you were relieved when he finally promised to tell you what had been bothering him lately. he had been very secretive about everything, when he had asked you to meet him in the park at eight o’clock, but you assured him you were going to be there. so there you were, exactly at eight, with yet any sighs of the boy. 

a few minutes later you recognised hanbin walking towards you. he seemed nervous, even from afar. he was hiding something behind his back as he approached you. he greeted you, giving you a sweet smile to hide his nervousness. his hands sweaty, he revealed a bouquet of flowers behind his back, handing them out to you. surprised but happy, you accepted the bouquet as hanbin finally spoke.

“i don’t know where i should even start… you mean the world to me y/n.”

seok matthew

matthew lowkey confessed to you by accident

he would be telling you about his day as normal

then he would blurt out something that would reveal his true feelings to you

and you’d be a blushing mess and be like “what?”

he’d noticed his slip out too late and decides to just tell you everything

it was a normal evening for you and your friend, as you talked about your days. telling each other all the good and bad, relieving stress in each other's presence. matthew loved telling you about his friends' antics at the dorm or at practice, telling you whatever comes to his mind first. he was like that, he had basically no filter around you. 

“...and then hanbin pointed out i always find a way to include you in a conversation, which is true but he had no right to point that out as someone who’s totally obsessed with hao hyung! and then guess what? they started teasing me about how much i love you-” he suddenly stopped, noticing you frozen where you sat, face completely flushed pink. realising what he had just said, his face soon matched yours.

“oh, well… i guess it was sooner or later i would’ve told you anyway…”

kim taerae

would confess to you with a song! (cliche, i know)

there was an open mic event at a local cafe that you made taerae to participate in

he would start his last song by saying it was dedicated to you

the song was the most obvious declaration of love anyone has ever heard

he’d be super shy as he approached you after the show (so don’t keep him waiting for an answer too long or he’ll explode!)

there weren’t often times when your best friend would leave you speechless, but tonight was one of them. he had just sung the most beautiful love song you have ever heard, and he had dedicated it to you in front of everyone at the cafe. this might be the most romantic thing anyone has ever done to you, and you doubt it would ever be topped. your heart was racing, you never knew your friend could have such an effect on you. 

“thank you” you heard taerae say to the mic, finally exiting the stage. applause filled the room, a shy smile entering his face. you could see taerae’s friends going up to him to congratulate him. he eventually dared to look at you, still very shy, knowing the conversation that was waiting the two of you. you could hear his friend’s whistling, as taerae finally had the courage to approach you.

“so? did you like it?”

- end

[hanjisungs-bigtittyg0thgf]

Muse

music major!bang chan x art major!reader

Trigger warnings: none

Content warnings: your teeth might fall out over how sweet it is??? that's literally it. it's all fluff lmao

Summary: after what you believe is a chance meeting, chan becomes your muse.

Word count: 3237

Author's note: omg hiiiii babes it's been a minuteeee. this is kinda short but it was the first thing i wrote after finally working through some stuff. shoutout to @hopelessromantic5933 for requesting this, sorry for making you wait almost two years 🥲 anyways, i hope you all enjoy it! don't forget to check out my other work ❤ and don't hesitate to send in asks! also redoing my tag list so comment or dm to be added! much loveeeeee

Tags: @bahng-chrizz

content after the cut

You let out a soft sigh as you grabbed your bag and stood from your desk. You were contemplating changing your major as you made your way out of the classroom, digging through your bag to find your phone. You loved learning new concepts and trying new things but the technique you were learning this week was one you’d never appreciated. You didn’t hate it per se, but you definitely avoided that style. It just didn’t speak to you.

You finally found your phone and began scrolling through your notifications as you made your way towards your favorite food truck. You made a confused face when you saw an Instagram notification from right after your class started. You clicked on it and were greeted with a page full of photos that screamed music major. “Who the fuck is this?” You didn’t bother to go through his pictures, choosing instead to scan his bio for any indication that you knew him. All you came up with was that you attended the same university and shared some mutual friends. He was cute from what you could see so you shrugged and approved the follow request, pocketing your phone as you reached your destination.

You placed your order and stepped to the side, turning to survey the quad. It was a beautiful day and everyone seemed to be taking advantage of it. Maybe inspiration would strike if you sat and people-watched for a bit.

You heard your name a few minutes later and gave a polite smile as you took your food, then scurried off towards your favorite tree. Campus staff had placed a massive wooden lawn chair and some fairy lights under that tree and it always felt so cozy. Plus, you had the best vantage point from there. You could almost see the entire quad from that one spot and you often found yourself sketching study groups there. Today would be slightly different since you were trying something new, but you found a sense of comfort as you settled into the chair and happily munched on your lunch.

As soon as you’d finished eating, you grabbed your sketch pad and pencil and allowed your gaze to sweep across the open field. It was teeming with life so all you had to do was choose someone and start sketching. You shook your head and chose a stationary subject first, needing to build up the courage to locate someone you’d consider asking to model for you.

Your eyes settled on a petite young woman who was seated a few yards away, sipping on coffee with her nose in a book. She almost seemed out of place here given how regal she appeared. Her posture was perfect, shoulders squared and back straight, and her hair fell over her shoulders in romantic waves. She was a picturesque beauty.

You began drawing, allowing your pencil to glide along the paper and create a version of the woman that you felt did her justice. It was far from perfect but you were certain no artist could truly capture her beauty so you gave yourself some grace. You were adding more detail when she began to pack up her things. You let out a soft sigh, knowing you’d likely never see the goddess again and this was as far as you’d get with this sketch. You flipped the page and decided to take a different approach as you spotted two men throwing a frisbee. Both were attractive, though one had a more athletic build.

You focused on the athletic one and took mental notes on the way his body moved as you began to draw him. First, you sketched out the general shape of his body as he twisted in preparation to throw the disk, then you began to add more details. You focused on the way his clothing fell and the way the midday sunlight bounced off his caramel brown hair, getting a strange sense of familiarity as you scrawled notes in the margins on the colors you’d incorporate when you got the chance.

You watched him closely as you tried to find another position to sketch him in, perking up instantly when you caught him with his arm outstretched, the frisbee leaving his hand. He was smiling brightly, displaying the most adorable dimples, and your heart sped up for a moment. You quickly began to sketch, memorizing as much detail as possible before he moved too much.

You gulped but drew even more frantically when he lifted his shirt to wipe the beads of sweat rolling down his face, revealing a six pack and prominent v-line. His proportions were perfect and if you weren’t so flustered by how attractive he was, you’d ask him to model for you. He was exactly what you needed for this project.

That strange familiarity came creeping back in as you drew but it was only when you made brief eye contact that you recognized him. He was the owner of the mystery account who’d requested to follow you less than an hour ago. You frantically looked away and continued drawing, praying he wouldn’t have anything to say when he undoubtedly recognized you from your photos.

You thought you were in the clear when he didn’t approach you after about five minutes but just when the thought crossed your mind, your luck ran out and the frisbee came flying at your head. You ducked your head quickly and listened as the disk crashed into the tree behind you.

“Felix, your arm fuckin’ sucks, bro!” Your breath caught in your throat when your unwitting model’s Australian accent reached your ears as he jogged towards you.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Called the man who’d lobbed the plastic at your head - Felix, as you’d gleaned from hearing the athletic man mocking him. He looked panicked, hands covering his mouth as he watched from where he was frozen in place. He was just as pretty and you certainly wouldn’t mind him modeling for you sometime. He had a wholesome, warm appearance.

“Sorry about him, he’s usually not such a klutz.” Your mystery man flashed a smile as he rounded your chair, taking a glance at your work as he reached down behind you.

“Ah- no, it’s not a problem. I wasn’t paying much attention.” You offered up a shy smile before looking back down to your paper. You didn’t notice him studying your pad as he retrieved the disk so you were startled when he attempted conversation as he righted himself.

“You sure about that?” He chuckled softly as he leaned over your shoulder to get a closer look and you froze. “Looks like you were paying plenty of attention.” He teased as he studied your art. Who was he and why was he so comfortable? Your heart was thumping and you wanted to vanish. “You an art major?” He asked as he stood straight once more and came around the chair to properly look at you. He was still closer to you than a stranger should be but at least you could breathe again.

Your cheeks were flaming red at being caught and you simply nodded as you began to gather your things in a rush. “I am. Sorry, this is probably really weird for you. I should-”

“What? No! This is really flattering. I don’t know a whole lot about art but you did an amazing job. Can I take a look at some of your other stuff sometime?” You froze once more but his blinding smile won against your nerves and you found yourself nodding. “Great! Can I get your number to get in touch? Or is Instagram better?”

“Ah, so you recognized me…” You let out a single huff of air that somewhat resembled a laugh as you closed your book.

“Of course I did. It’s not often I come across such a beautiful woman.” His dimples appeared once more as your cheeks went pink and your jaw dropped slightly, a smile slowly taking over your face. “Here.” He handed you his phone and you took it slowly, trying to collect yourself and remember how to use your thumbs to type your number out. When you passed it back, his fingers ghosted over yours and you retreated quickly as his smile faded into something far more flirtatious. “Thanks, I’ll text you. I’m Chan, by the way.”

“Y/n…” You murmured, enraptured by the man before you. You were dumbfounded at the way he spoke so comfortably and seemed to take an interest in you. This man was Adonis and was looking at you with an unbelievable level of interest.

“Pleased to meet you, y/n.” He began to back away as he pocketed his phone, his carefully crafted confident facade beginning to crumble, revealing a giddy young man who was thrilled to have gotten a girl’s number so easily. “I’ll let you get back to it. But do try and get my left side. That’s my good side.” He winked and you involuntarily rolled your eyes as a smile finally appeared on your lips as he made his way back to his friend with a triumphant grin.

————————————————

Your phone buzzed just after 6pm that night and you froze at the unfamiliar number.

Hi pretty 👋🏻 it’s Chan. How are you?

You quickly saved his number before responding.

hiii i’m good how are you

Much better now that I’m talking to you 😉

You were at a loss for words but he quickly sent another message.

I’d be even better if I could take you to get coffee in the near future. Are you free next weekend? Say Saturday at 11am?

You felt a jolt of anxiety shock your body but shook it off. You’d never grow as a person if you continued to shrink away from people who wanted to get to know you. Plus, he was cute. Which is why we’re anxious, dumbass. This isn’t about human connection, this is about a beautiful man flirting with you. You shook your head and typed out a response.

i think i can manage that 😆

Perfect! I’m thrilled to see you and your amazing work. 😌

————————————————

The coffee date had gone smoothly, with Chan gushing about your work and lighting up like a neon sign when you asked him to model for you. He’d been so flattered and excited that you’d asked and had immediately set up a time for you to draw him. After you’d gotten home, you texted him with more details, including where to meet and what he should wear.

Now, he was standing in your living room and you were circling him with one arm crossed over your middle while you drummed your fingers of the opposite hand against your chin. He was fighting the urge to shift around under your scrutiny and let out a tiny sigh of relief when you stopped in front of him with a smile. “I think I have an idea.”

“Have your way with me.” He grinned, ears going red when you stared at him somewhat surprised by his words. “Uh- I just- h-how do you want me to pose? That’s what I meant…” 

You laughed at his flush and shook your head. “Don’t make it weird.” You warned playfully as you pushed him towards your bedroom. You had a daybed with warm-toned sheets and pillows and knew instantly that it was the perfect backdrop. “Come on, I know what I’m gonna do with you.” He seemed to grow more flustered as he processed where you were guiding him and you almost laughed again.

Over the last few weeks, you’d grown quite comfortable with him but he seemed a little less outspoken. He was still very flirtatious but in a more genuine, careful way. He didn’t come on as strong as he did at first. While getting to know each other, you’d come to realize he was a kind man with a lot of love to give the world and a strong sense of self, not just your typical college kid. Most of your late night conversations were deep, thought-provoking, emotional discussions about life where you could see his soul was just as beautiful as his exterior. So while he certainly had his moments of being just some guy, he saved his perverted humor for his friends and kept most things with you pretty PG and entirely sincere.

When you reached your room, you nudged him towards the bed and turned to set up your easel. “Take off your shirt and socks and get on the bed.” He hesitated at first and was on the verge of sputtering some shy response when you turned back with your bottom lip poking out. “Oh come onnnn.” You whined cutely, further exaggerating your pout. “It’s for class.” Your pout was quickly replaced with a little grin as you grabbed your canvas and placed it on the easel. “Plus, it’s not like I haven’t already seen your body before.”

“Right.” He cleared his throat and began to unbutton his shirt. You watched him in your peripheral vision as you continued to set everything up and had an idea.

“Actually, hold on.” You stopped him as he began to slide the linen off his muscular shoulders and he slowly put it back in place. “Just leave it open like that, that’s perfect.” You smiled as your vision fully came to you. “Socks off and get in the middle of the bed.”

He followed your instructions while watching you scurry off to your en suite bathroom to fill a cup with water. When you returned, he was sitting almost awkwardly in the center of your bed and you chuckled softly. You approached him wordlessly and knelt beside him to arrange your pillows so they were nestled in the right corner. You gestured for him to recline and stood back once he was slumped. He wasn’t lying down, he was simply sprawled across your mattress at an angle.

“Okay, bring your right knee up and sort of prop on your left elbow.” You watched as he complied and scrutinized his positioning for a moment before crawling back onto the bed. “I’m gonna make some adjustments.”

You noticed his flush creeping down his neck as you adjusted his open shirt how you wanted it to lay. “Put your hand like this.” You instructed as you demonstrated how you wanted his hand to rest across his bare torso and he complied. “And relax your left leg a bit. I want you to almost lay like Adam in Creation of Adam.”

“I think I get where you’re going with this.” He nodded, a tiny grin settling on his lips. You lifted a brow as you waited for his guess and instantly rolled your eyes when he spoke again. “You’re trying to tell me I’m a classic beauty.”

“Yes, but no.” You laughed softly as you shook your head. “Look over there.” You pointed to where you’d be sitting and made some final adjustments to his shirt as he followed your instructions. You noticed him forcing his breathing to remain steady and his flush reaching his chest as your fingers accidentally brushed against the waistband of his cream colored linen pants.

You didn’t allow yourself to worry over how you’d just touched him or to get flustered at the effect your proximity was having on him and pushed ahead, reaching to fix his hair. You adjusted a single curl and brushed a few strands away from his eyes before your gazes met and you lost the battle to remain calm. Your cheeks went a soft pink as he smiled up at you. “Hi.”

“Hi.” You whispered back, smiling back at him and allowing your fingertips to trail down the side of his face. Seeing him this close made you even more certain of your decision to cast him as your model. His skin was flawless and his bone structure was heavenly. He truly was a god among men. And his lips…

“You’re staring.” He whispered, his smile slipping away as he noticed the way your eyes locked on his full lips.

“I’m not…” You refuted his claim but still couldn’t look away.

“You are.” His face grew redder and you thought he might kiss you but he didn’t dare move after you’d finally gotten him perfectly positioned. It was almost maddening.

“I’m not.” You finally looked towards his eyes and found him staring at your lips as well. “You are.”

“Can’t help it. You have pretty lips.” He slowly met your gaze and something in you snapped. You’d been wanting him to kiss you for a couple weeks and he hadn’t so you took matters into your own hands.

When your lips met his, he hesitated. Not because he wasn’t interested, but because he was surprised that you’d initiated it. You’d given him the impression that you wanted him to take the lead and he wanted to be careful with you so he hadn’t dared to do more than hold your hand. But now your lips were on his and he was in the clouds.

He slowly brought his hand up to cup your face without disturbing the careful placement of his shirt and allowed his lips to move against yours. Your heart was racing at how slow and sweet the moment was. It felt like the stars had aligned and you found yourself smiling against his lips. “I’ve wanted to do that for a little while now.” You whispered and began to pull back.

“Me too. I’ve been trying to take it slow with you though. Didn’t wanna move too fast and risk scaring you off.” He explained quietly, not really letting you move as his hand slipped to the back of your neck. “So come back here, we’ve got a couple weeks of lost time to make up for.” He teased as he chased your lips.

“You did the exact opposite. You were driving me mad wondering what exactly was happening between us.” You laughed softly before allowing him to kiss you again. His lips felt perfect against yours and you knew instantly that you’d quickly become addicted.

It couldn’t have been more than three minutes of sharing chaste kisses but it felt much longer and you frowned a bit when you finally came up for air. “Unfortunately, I’ve got to get to work now or you’ll be stuck waiting here until late into the night.”

“I could wait an eternity for you, babe.” He winked before immediately cringing. You couldn’t help but laugh loudly at the face he pulled and he took a moment to admire your joyful expression before shaking his head. “That was so cheesy, I’m sorry.” He chuckled and settled back into his previous position. “Work your magic.”

“For the record,” you started as you stood and studied him once more. “I love little pet names like that.” You hummed, making your way to your canvas. “So I’d really like it if you continued to use them.”

“Of course, baby girl. But don’t be surprised if I rarely use your real name then.” He grinned and relaxed his hand, allowing his fingers to splay out against his stomach.

“I’ll hold you to that. Now give me an emotionally tortured smolder.” You smiled to yourself at his soft laugh and began to sketch out the god of a man lounging on your bed.

[telomeke]

POLL TAG – FIVE FAVORITE CHARACTERS

I was tagged by @lurkingshan (at this post linked here) and @pickletrip (at this post linked here). Thanks dearies! 🥰

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Challenge: make a poll with five of your all time favorite characters, and then tag five people to do the same. See which character is everyone's favorite.

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I'm sticking to BLs as well, because the field would be far too wide otherwise (can you imagine a poll with Dolly Levi, Buffy Summers, Joe Rossi from Lou Grant, Lady Deathstrike from X-Men 2, any one of the Golden Girls, Erik Killmonger from Black Panther the movie, the Beastmaster and cartoon Aladdin? 🤣).

Anyway, I don't watch all that much BL (not compared to the majority of people here on BL Tumblr, who have watchlists longer than Babe's wig when he was Wansarat in The Sign). So that narrows the field considerably for me – and my list has some likely suspects, including an unbreakable pairing, and also one highly unusual choice. But I'll explain my choices after the poll itself:

Why these characters? Here's my spiel:

PatPran (Bad Buddy)  I've combined these two as a single choice, because obviously they go together (and so well too). But really, I would have loved to have listed them separately, because I have different reasons for loving them. Pat is just an all-round good guy, hopelessly optimistic, generous and so giving; he thinks of others before himself (and if both partners in a couple do that, well, you then have a mutually-reinforcing relationship). Pran I love because I can see so much of myself in him, from his tics and foibles, his interests, to his struggles finding his courage and growing into his own identity.

Li Ming (Moonlight Chicken)  In a lot of ways, what Li Ming was going through in MLC paralleled some of my own experiences when I was a teen his age. If only they'd had MLC or something similar for teenage me to have watched growing up! Li Ming was somehow able to navigate the pressures of becoming someone true to himself (something that Pran, and I too in my teens, struggled with) while dealing with real world issues at the same time (economic hardship in Li Ming's case, while in mine it was general teen angst and family stress). He didn't let life get to him, and he stayed the course, knowing his own self-worth even when others were telling him to scale back his expectations (Uncle Jim and Heart's parents). Lessons in there for all LGBTQ+ teens, and Khun Noppharnach's socially-conscious BLs should be given more credit for the positive role models they portray and how they help the younger set. Plus Fourth did an excellent job bringing Li Ming to life (thanks in part I think to Director Aof's guidance; Fourth's Atom in My Love Mix-Up Thailand is a lot less grounded and authentic, at least from what I've seen in the first couple of episodes).

Porsche (KinnPorsche)  This entry is just for fun. KinnPorsche was a wild ride, whacking us with whiplash at every turn, and Porsche was emblematic of that experience. Cool, sexy martial arts fighter in one episode, total buffoon at the mercy of sprinklers, piss-allergic carp and mermaid costumes in others. Apo gamely played along, and he can do both slick action and slapstick comedy well, so watching Porsche always brought a smile to my face. Whether it was seducing Kinn with pappy supermarket bread, or warding off ghosts with a penis amulet, you never knew what craziness was in store next with this character. Pure entertainment.

Adachi (Cherry Magic)  Adachi charmed the briefs off me the moment the lift doors went CLANG!!! on him while he was distracted with whatever it was that was speedrunning through his head again. Such a lovable doofus, always surprised by whatever situation he managed to stumble into. Eiji Akaso is really good-looking, but he didn't care about image and happily took all the pratfalls in his stride. He somehow managed to imbue Adachi's clumsy clownery with a strange sense of dignity (helped along, I suppose, by the fact that we could also hear Adachi's inner monologue, allowing us to see the innocent good-heartedness within).

Dissaya (Bad Buddy)  This is the odd one out. Pran's mom was hated by so many fans during Bad Buddy's run, who blamed her for ruining Pran's life in many ways. And it's true her own hang-ups wrought havoc on Pran's relationship with the world outside. But for someone with so few scenes, I think she's actually one of the more complex characters in Bad Buddy, with a turbulent backstory that explains how her own relationship with the world got so warped. My read is that everything she did, including sending Pran away in high school, was done out of love for her beloved only son and motivated by a desire to protect him at all costs. She was a smothering, over-protective mother to be sure, but I think the lady just didn't know any better, and the last two episodes of Bad Buddy really do invite us to rethink our earlier appraisals of her. It wasn't easy doing Dissaya's character study based on the fairly scant details we got (write-ups linked here and here), but they were enough for me to glean an understanding of who I think she is. And I think in the end she is someone worthy of respect, so I do tip my hat out of respect for her. It's also obvious Pran loves her dearly, as much as she loves him back. And I think I trust Pran's judgement of character on this one. 😍

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Onward tagging:

@neuroticbookworm, @colourme-feral, @airenyah, @wen-kexing-apologist, @solitaryandwandering

I really want to tag more, but this game limits us to five so these are just five people tagged at random. If I haven't tagged you but you'd like to play, please do so (knowing that I want to tag everyone and then some)! And please tag me if you play, so that I can read and vote on your poll too. 😍

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