#but was i expecting it while reading this chapter? honestly no

[itstheghostofmypast]

I'm Okay! Gwenchana!

Non-Idol Husband Choi San x (F) Reader

Summary: If there is one thing a good husband knows, it is that intimacy is not bound to the gratification of the physical being, but also the mind and soul.

Genre: Hurt Comfort

Rating: PG- 17

Word Count: 2.1 K

Est. Read Time: 10 min

Warnings: eldest sibling/child trauma (if ykyk)

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

AN: A bit self-indulgent- a light-hearted (i guess) fic before the first chapter of the Ice on My teeth series <3

He watched you walk into your shared bedroom and fall onto the bed, walking in behind you with a heavy sigh, tugging on his tie to loosen it. Perhaps the family dinner did not go as planned, well, most of it. The evening started off well, as well as it could be, honestly the only time he'd say you were this nervous was when you were around your parents. The jitters he'd see trembling through your frame had him holding himself back from enveloping you in a warm embrace, trying to soothe your nervousness, but the physical touch was one of the things you'd avoid around your family.

Slipping the tie off his neck, he unbuttoned his shirt, eying your sprawled out on the bed through the mirror. It was all fine, the conversation was light-hearted, the bare minimum critical comments were targeted towards you, nothing you couldn't handle- until your sibling had arrived.

With a heavy sigh he turned to face you, only to notice your soft breathing, of course, you had fallen asleep. Removing his shirt he walked over to you, reaching over to gently brush the loose strands of hair on your face, his lips pressed into a thin line as he noticed the pink puffiness around your closed eyes, the memories of you crying your heart out in the car on the way back had his heart clench again.

“Love, wake up,” the soft whisper of your husband stirred you out of your dreamless slumber, slowly you opened your eyes and turned your head to glance up at the man who gave you a soft smile in return. Helping you sit up his nimble fingers began to unbutton your top, slipping it off your shoulders. The chill in the room had goosebumps scatter across your warm skin, pulling you into full consciousness, as you pouted at him, “You want to do it now?” you asked, wondering if you should tell him that you were in no mood for it tonight, not that he’d force you, but you did notice how restless he was during dinner, and in the car on the way back, so perhaps he was expecting something.

“Huh? Oh.” the man chuckled at your silly little antics, “Such a naughty wife I have.” he mumbled, staring up at you as he crouched down between your legs, looking up at you while he slipped off your socks, “I just thought a nice warm bath would help you sleep better.”

“Oh…” your face flushed at the statement, embarrassed at the mistake you had just made, wondering why you even thought of it in the first place. Though you couldn't ponder about it any longer, especially when you were scooped up into his arms, a yelp escaping your lips as you looped your arms around his neck, clinging onto him for warmth, in nothing but your undergarments, “Sannie!”

“Don't worry, I'll be careful!”

His declaration echoed in the washroom as he walked into the shower cabin, gently placing you on the shower bench before ridding himself of his garments and turning to face you with a stupid smug expression, earning an eye roll from you. Once your pesky garments were out of the way he turned the nob to the left, holding onto the shower head to check the warmth.

“I can do this myself you know?”

San ignored your statement, only to turn around and ‘accidentally’ spray your face with the warm water, earning a squeal, “Oh- I'm sorry, must've slipped.” With that he approached you, sitting behind you, holding the shower head closer to your head for it to soak your hair and body while you stared at your hands in your lap.

“I never said you couldn’t.”

It wasn’t as if he had something out of the ordinary, but perhaps the whole dinner had been weighing down on you enough to have you sniffle at the statement and you hoped that for once he wouldn’t react to you crying, instead would let you- and you were glad he did, going about his routine.

San noticed the way your shoulders quivered, his hand giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze before trailing lower as if he were trying to ease the tension in your back muscles, with the help of the warm water that cascaded down your form. Switching off the water he picked up the shampoo bottle he had conveniently placed beside him, flipping open the cap he poured a generous amount of purple liquid into his palm, picking up the rich berry scent, and making a mental note to use this next time too, it smelled better than his mint shampoo.

With gentle hands he began to lather the shampoo in your hair, applying gentle pressure on your scalp, noting how your crying had seized, only to be replaced by your shallow breathing, noticing how you were trying to calm yourself down, your silence bothering him.

“It’s getting colder, no?” he conversed, trying to distract you from all those thoughts, “You should wear more layers from now on, yeah?”

You only nodded in return, closing your eyes when he began to wash off the shampoo, wanting to ask him if you were to return the favor, as your hand blindly reached behind the for the bottle.

“Love?”

“Umm…yes?”

“For someone who said she’s not in the mood, your hand is-”

“oh-Oh, I thought that was the shampoo bottle!” you gasped pulling your hand back- honestly unsure to why you were so embarrassed, you were married to the man.

“No problem at all, sweets,” his tone was oozing with cockiness as he turned off the water once more, this time reaching for the liquid body wash, “I do understand one can confuse the two because of the similarity in sizes.” He laughed at the way you turned to glare at him only to gently turn you back, “Hold still would ya?”

With a huff you turned around facing the tiled wall, watching the condensation, as he began to gently massage your shoulders, lathering up your body with the soap, feeling him get a bit handsy, but nothing too out of control, at this point you knew he was doing it to distract you. You wondered if you hadn’t stepped on his foot under the table tonight, what would he have said? Would he have defended you? Well, indeed he would have, but what would he have said? He was usually very composed, very calm and careful with his words.

Perhaps he would have politely said something to defuse the situation, or perhaps he would have lost his temper- in either situation, one thing was sure, you were glad you signalled him to be quiet. For if there was one thing you knew, it was that at the end of the day, you were taught that the eldest is to be patient, all bearing and understanding, even when the younger one is wrong- and you had been meeting that bar of expectation for all your life, perhaps because that’s how you were trained to be or to be more exact, you just were not a fan of chaos and useless banter. Though a part of you did wish, that either parent would have tried to handle the situation better, rather than dragging you down because of the whole ‘we expected better from you’ and instead understood when you confronted your sibling about the comment,

“Why? Didn’t you say you didn’t want kids?”

The statement had caught you off guard, the whole conversation was pointless anyway, the topic of children was between your husband and you, and why was it weird if you had changed your views from what they were at the age of fifteen. So, like any sane person, you snapped back with, “Why do you think I owe you an explanation?”

Apparently, that was wrong, and had let loose a whirlwind of emotions within you, especially when your parents began to talk about how it is natural to want kids, but as a family, they do have the right to know how your views changed or rather- your sibling, the sibling you were supposed to parent once they were gone. This followed the whole 'how you were supposed to be the bigger person', even when you argued back saying your sibling never needed to bring up such an old conversation in front of your husband, embarrassing you in front of him- of course, you didn’t tell him this? Why would you? Your views had changed and one day you did plan on starting a family with your husband-

“You need to calm down.”

His warm chest pressed against your back, slowly pulling you back into a hug, arms wrapping around you frame as he placed his chin on your shoulder, tilting to place a tender kiss on your cheek, before pressing his wet cheek against yours, “Thanks for stopping me back then, I know my expressions were scary enough, if I had said something else…” his words trailed off as he squeezed you closer, mumbling against your cheek before pulling away, “I don’t think I can choose my words wisely at the sight of my wife in tears.”

With the weight of those words weighing down on you, you found yourself being wrapped in a fluffy towel and walked out of the washroom, being seated on the bed when he had scurried towards the cupboard, pulling out his hoodie and running back with it, “Arms up!” and as if wired to the command you raised your hands giggling when in one quick motion you felt the soft cotton, the familiar scent enveloping you in a warm hug.

“Where are you going?” you asked as you watched him saunter back into the washroom with the towel hanging low on his hips, only for him to swiftly turn around with a serious look in his eyes, “You were right, the mushrooms did do me dirty.”

You took a moment to process what he said before sighing in defeat, shaking your head at the duality of your husband, so serious one moment and completely aloof the next. Nonetheless, one thing was sure, you really depended on him, perhaps he really was the only being keeping you sane. Perhaps tomorrow you’d talk to him about starting a family, and, tomorrow you’d tell him why you didn’t want kids at the age of fifteen- though you may censor the part where you for a very long time thought that like male seahorses, men give birth, and at fifteen when you found out that was not the case, your plans of having eleven children to raise your own football team quickly washed away- yeah, it was best to censor that part, one clown is enough in a relationship, no need to create a circus.

By the time San was done with cleaning and showering he had come out to find you sleeping peacefully, snuggled up on his side, much to his pleasure. Lifting the blankets he slipped into bed, laying on your side of the bed, sighing at the scent of your shampoo wafting off your pillow, he should do this more often. He wanted to know more about the whole secret that was spilt today, you had never mentioned this to him before, in fact, you seemed ever ready to start a family with him, so he wondered if he was in any sense forcing you to do so- for if there was one thing that mattered to him most, it was your happiness, so yes, if you felt just the two of you completed your family he'd be fine with that- perhaps encourage you to get a cat at max.

A part of him wanted to ask you about the expectations your parents had when it came to your role as an older child and their occasional unfair treatment- though he knew you’d brush it off, too scared of rejection to bring it up at the moment, perhaps one day he’d take a stand for you, one that he’d carefully curate, with wise words and logical reasoning- or you’d end up blowing up and handling it yourself before he could, but that was a worry of another day.

Slowly pulling you closer, he held his breath when you changed positions, afraid that he had woken you up, only to sigh in relief when you snored in bliss, only to turn and bury your face in his chest, an arm draping around his waist. A smile stretched across his face, giddy like a teenage boy who had finally confessed to his crush, openly welcoming this intimacy, as he squeezed you against him, tangling his limbs with yours before closing his eyes to waltz with you on the sprung floor of the ballroom in your dreams.

Though when he had almost succumbed to sleep his eyes snapped open, jerking himself awake at the horrid thought he just had, glancing down at you, unsure if he should wake you up, for it was a grave mistake, one that broke the chain of process of showering-

“I forgot to condition her hair.”

Taglist: @edenesth @skteezcursed @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky @bunnyluvr25

@s-h-y-a @ateezwonderland

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 764: Dearest wish

Pag 1

1: The one thing the third year Onoda Sakamichi desires is....?

Pag 2

3: His dearest wish!!

4: Right!!

Pag 3

1: That's definitely Onoda's dearest wish

Pag 4

2: Do your beest

They're so fast!

They move the wind

The jerseys are so brightly colored

3: No no no no

4: That- that's not it

That's not-

Is Sohoku arguing over something!?

Pag 5

1: That- that was just the spur of the moment

I ended up just saying anything

2: That's not my dearest wish at all....

So- uhm

3: Please forget about it, everyone!!

4: No way!!

Yeah

Teh!!

Yep

Yeah

Pag 6

1: That must be our goal this year!! Our third victory in a row!!

Pag 7

1: Yessir!!

On!!

Yeah!!

2: The three day long stage is harsh and long, that's why everyone's strengths will be necessary!!

Yessir!!

3: If we can all unite our strengths and support each other as one...

4: The I'll be able to win brilliantly!! Yeah!!

Just like I did during the prefectural qualification!!

Ohhhh

Tch

Pag 8

1: I'll sprint desperately, Hotshot-san will accompany me, and I'll do a grand finishing dash, just like that day!!

Okay!! You've been saying it over and over again!!

2: You're really a guy who clings to the glory of the past

The prefectural qualification is connected to the Inter High, it's not in the past!!

You're the type of guy I hate the most when you get carried away

Naruko-san was amazing, teh!!

That day, yeah!!

Naruko-san!!

3: Sto-stop iit, you were both amazing that day

4: Come oon... we're in the middle of an important meeting

6: Now that I think about it

Onoda-san's....

7: This is all

Pag 9

1: Can I say one last thing?

2: I also think our goal must be a third consecutive victory

3: There's just one thing I'm curious about we still haven't asked

Onoda-san

5: What's your goal this year?

What are you running in the Inter High for?

6: When I asked you this last year during the first years' race

Pag 10

1: I want to report it

2: You said you wanted to report the victory to your senpai

3: And you

4: Accomplished that

5: Honestly, when I first heard that I thought “what is he talking about, that's such a small goal”

But that day, after the race, when I saw Onoda-san doing it

6: I was shaking

I thought from the bottom of my heart that it was amazing

Pag 11

1: I thought you were super cool

5: Wh- no no

That- I was just reporting, there's nothing cool about it at all, okay

Pag 12

1: So I want to know what your goal is this year

Please tell us what you're thinking about!!

2: Is it “I want to report to that senpai once again”!?

4: Crowning your third victory in a row as the captain!?

6: Is it the mountain's bib!? Is it winning a stage!?

Please tell us... your goal during the race...

7: or maybe for when the race is over!!

8: A.....

9: No no no

It's nothing- yes, it's nothing!!

Pag 13

1: Onoda's goal....

2: I see, what Onoda-kun wants to do....

3: Now that I think about it....

4: What is it!? You started saying it now, “a”!!

Is it “running as an assist”!?

5: Does it mean you don't want to bear the last heavy burden!?

No no no no, that's fine, if the situation calls for it I'll do my best

6: That's enough, Issa

7: There are things Onoda-san doesn't want to say too

No, if it can become motivation for the team then he should say it

Pag 14

1: Onoda-san's goal!!

2: But still, Issa!!

I'm telling you, anything is fine!!

Ah, uhm...

3: It's a really personal thing, so.... don't get your hopes up...

But.... that's... always been.... my dearest wish...

4: Dearest wish!!

5: If we run with all we have in this Inter High.... putting together all of our strengths and deliver our jersey to the finish line

6: If we get the best result....

Pag 15

1: No no, I really can't say more than this

3: Say it, everything's fine. I'm curious too

4: Ah.... if we get the best results.... I....

5: I want to reserve a room somewhere...

6: A room?

8: Prepare teacakes

9: Cakes!?

10: Ask for everyone's cooperation...

Pag 16

1: Gather five people

5: It's something I've been imagining.... since before... entering school in my first year.....

7: Even just for one day

8: Even just a few hours after school

Everyone will bring what they like

9: A.....

Oi.... don't tell me you mean.... you

Pag 17

1: I'm thinking of reviving the anime research club!!

Pag 18

5: No way!!

Pag 19

1: And then, there

2: I think I could call Makishima-san, who likes figures

I feel like you've misunderstood something here

3: And Midosuji-kun who likes anime

Would you be able to hold a conversation with him!?

4: Isn't that good!! The best goal!!

5: You'll gather five people in no time!!

6: Kakaka mine will be the first name you write down

7: Amazing

From England and Kyoto....!!

Pag 20

1: I don't really get it, but somehow that fired me up!!

2: That's Onoda-san's dearest wish!!

3: Ah

4: N-no, it's really nothing much, so I take it back...

Revive the anime club!!

Let's do it, for Onoda-san!!

I don't really know what an anime club does, but I'm in!!

Me too!!

5: Yeeah!!

Let's do it!!

Issa, calm down

Pag 21

2: Your goal is to “revive the anime research club even for just day”?

Oi oi, that's such a small

3: but splendid goal!!

4: You managed to unite the club's intentions as one with such bizarre words!!

5: You're really are an unpredictable guy!!

The plate will soon become green

“Real start”.... the real race will start!!

[100-gar]

Controversial take but i watched all of jjk, in subbed, so it had my full attention 100% of the time, and i am of the opinion that it just fucking sucks.

So me and my wife were talking about it, and we were trying to figure out why people like it and we've come up short. I do not understand what's so appealing about this show for so many people. Can someone PLEASE tell me.

[baekuras]

anyhow how the fuck did I miss Kiyan’s tag on AO3 getting over 100 now? Good fucking work team thank you

[fushitoru]

chapter 1: the debutante a bridgerton!au

pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary ⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, heir to a dukedom mr. satoru gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

warnings ⸺ nsfw, enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, eventual smut, jealousy, misogyny, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly

chapter summary ⸺ you begin to get ready for your presentation for your debut this season, and satoru steels himself to find a wife. you don't get the reception you'd wanted from some, and satoru will soon curse himself for letting his tongue loose (6.3k)

a/n tired of keeping this in the vault lol so I’ll just post it even if my perfectionist tendencies are screaming at me. thank you so much to @/sinn-clair for beta reading and lexi (@/ayyy-pee) for helping me brainstorm 💗

next. the aftermath

general masterlist | series masterlist

Dearest reader,

Another season comes as the ton descends to London yet again from the countryside. Young ladies and their mamas flock to the modiste in an effort to fluff their feathers to find a match.

The Itadoris are by far one of the most prolific families in the upper echelons of society. The sight of all the children at once⸺Miss Itadori, Lord Choso Itadori, and Mister Yuji Itadori⸺is enough to catch the attention of mamas and young suitors alike. Miss Itadori, making her debut this season, has much to be desired. The debutante is a meek and demure girl, but with many talents indeed. The oldest, Lord Itadori, has a quiet countenance that has ladies and mamas on their toes, counting the days until he finally joins the marriage market. Mister Yuji Itadori is quite the opposite; his physical prowess on horseback riding has had quite a few ladies swooning after.

Furthermore, the heir to the Duke of Gojo is a most interesting character.  Although he has not deigned to find a wife during any season yet, This Author has heard whispers that he will be looking for a bride during this one.  

Lady Mei Mei can certainly be expected to be on the prowl, waiting to sink her teeth into the wealthiest….

⸻ LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS

“Seriously?” Choso scrunched his nose in displeasure. “Why would ladies want someone who’s quiet? I use it to convey my displeasure, not to be charming.”

On the other hand, the other brother relaxed on the opposite couch, proud. “I knew I looked good on horseback,” Yuji remarked smugly. “You and my dear sister are clearly jealous of how appealing my muscles look while I’m grabbing the reins.”

“Those ladies clearly hadn’t seen you drop yourself in dung when you were younger. Or the face you make when you are so oddly concentrated. As if you just stepped into a chamber pot.”

Before Yuji could come up with a snide remark to his older brother, the two heard an incessant pacing leading up to the doors of the drawing room they sat in. The door slammed opened to reveal their mother⸺Lady Itadori⸺with a hand to her face in clear distress.

Choso and Yuji exchanged glances before Choso calmly set down the single-page newspaper he was reading. “What is the matter, mother?”

Lady Itadori moaned and sat down on a chair raggedly. “Your sister is the matter. I fear the queen will have reviewed every person in London before your sister leaves her room.”

Before Choso could get a word in, Yuji suddenly stood up. “This is a serious matter, mother. After all, she should be punctual to her debut. I will go fetch her.”

“Wait, Yuji!” Choso and Lady Itadori followed Yuji to the grand staircase of the Itadori manor. Hurriedly, they reached the foot of the stairs to see Yuji tilting his head back to take a deep breath.

“SISTER!” Yuji had his palms up to his face, as if to amplify his already booming scream. “YOU! MUST! MAKE! HASTE!” After the quite of bit noise he'd made, he cleared his throat, looking to the side to see his dumbfounded mother and brother, and shrugged. “Well, someone’s got to the job.”

Then, the brothers and their mother look up to see a peek of white and a “Miss, be careful with the hem!” You, at the top of the staircase, grab the front of your ivory dress, with your maids helping you with the train, as you start stepping down the staircase with an irritated frown. “Must you always be such a nuisance, brother?” Traversing down the stairs until your family members were visible, all you saw were dumbfounded and tense expressions. After enduring hours of painting your face and dealing with your maid Nobara’s fussing over your coiffure, you wished for a more fond reaction. Annoyed, you stomped your way past them to the exit, where the carriage was waiting for you four.

“Dear!” your mother exclaimed, rushing to your side and taking your hand as you reached the door. Her eyes, filled with concern, met yours as she nervously asked, “How are you feeling? I know this is a momentous day for you, but remember, you’ve always excelled in your lessons. It’s only natural that you’ll win the queen’s approval, dear.”

“Yes, Mother, of course,” you sighed. “It is just such a hectic day.”

“But you shall dazzle them.” Choso comes behind you, patting your back gently in his reassuring, elderly brother ways. With a proud smile, he says, “The gentlemen are not prepared for your entrance this season.” 

“Indeed! They will be none the wiser to your snark, sister.” You see Yuji coming up on your other side, offering his elbow. You tentatively take it, eyeing him sourly as he continues, “I am simply elated that Mama’s attention will be on you, rather me.”

You reach to smack him on the head, eliciting an "Ow!" from Yuji just as your mother approaches next to him, frowning. "Of course, Yuji. But it won’t be long before I have to chase after you for your tutor’s complaints about your lack of proficiency⸺"

Yuji interjects hastily. "Well! Would you look at the time? The Queen is waiting!" 

"I'm surprised the gossip pamphlet didn't mention how much of a rake you are," Lord Geto mused, taking a sip of brandy. At his right, Duke Nanami was stoic as always, focusing on the tastes the gin was bringing to his mouth rather than  the two older men beside him.

"I'm severely offended you would even imply such a thing," Mister Satoru Gojo put a hand on his chest, feigning offense. Rather than a gin in his hand, Satoru preferred drinking water lest his mouth spilled something even more notorious than his signature calculative icy blue eyes.

He continued. "Honestly, I don't understand this whole Whistledown business. Some might even say the ton holds her words more in regards than the Holy Bible!"

"You're diverting the matter at hand, Gojo," Nanami took his tired eyes off of his drink to look at Satoru. "As the heir and first son, have your parents not urged you to cease your foolishness? There is a limit to the rakish behavior one can exhibit in your position.”

"Yes," Satoru sighed, "They have. That's precisely why I'm looking for a bride."

There was a silence in which Satoru looked up from his glass to see Kento and Suguru’s mouths agape. "What?"

Suguru leaned closer to Satoru, as if to inspect his countenance unsure if he was jesting or not. "So, is it actually true? You're going to get tied down?"

Nanami wrinkled his nose in disapproval. "Must you say it like that? Marriage isn't imprisonment, you know."

Gojo sighed. "Nanami, Nanami. It's clear that one year that separates us in age has also left a gap in experience." Nanami felt a vein pop as Satoru irritatedly continued in his know-it-all voice. "Marriage is an end. The dead end, in fact. It is when you are abroad in Paris, basking in all the fine entertainment and wooing ladies until you realize you are out of funds. Out of money. Marriage is coming home not to go out and drink, but to a wife that has endless needs of you and children that will have frustrating phases of life. An end to pleasure and an end of all jest."

Kento and Suguru exchanged a glance before Suguru asked, "So why are you looking for a wife?"

Satoru looked dejectedly at them, crossing his arms. "My parents insisted. Said they would freeze my funds and kick me out if I didn't get serious about my future." He continued on his desperate rambling, leaning back in his chair. "I don't understand. Must I have a wife to "get serious" in life? I’m serious about all the fucking mergers and dubious finances my father invests in! Look how well I managed his bets!"

"You know, Satoru, your outlook on marriage is awfully pessimistic," Suguru put down his glass to lean back as well, crossing his arms in seriousness. "Don't you wish for a love match?"

"That sounds ridiculous. Love matches are just a passing fancy young ladies have when reading their ridiculous romance novels."

"Well, of course you think that." Kento deadpanned. "No respectable lady in their right mind would fall for you and your attitude."

"Nanami, you wound me."

Suguru glanced at Satoru with concern. "My dear friend, you are making this harder for yourself than it ought to be."

Satoru groaned. "I came here for jest, not to receive words of so-called wisdom. I assure you both, all is well." He looked at both of his friends. "I do not need to be assured. I simply am looking for a woman fine enough to be my wife to appease my parents and their concerns of continuing on the line and handling the dukedom but for a woman so reserved that she'd respect my wishes and isn't so miserable. Or needy." Satoru shrugged. "I would believe these to be respectable requirements for a wife."

Suguru looked at him with mild displeasure. "It sounds like you are looking for a horse to ride, not a woman you would spend the rest of your life with."

Standing up, Satoru moved behind Kento and Suguru to give them a hearty slap on the back. "Trust me, my dear, dear friends. I will find what I am looking for and drink myself silly for the rest of my life!"

"You don't drink." Kento sighed.

"Never mind, you! Sir, more drinks!" Satoru grinned. "Here's to the bachelor life!"

The three men raised their glasses for the toast. Yet, only one of them contained thin water.

You restlessly arranged the feathers in your coiffure and adjusted the fabric essentially squeezing the breath out of your lungs to accentuate your bust. The palace waiting room was stuffy as ever as debutantes and their mamas fluttered across the room in an effort to catch the smallest of flaws on their person.

Before the Queen did, that is.

"Your feathers are fine, dear. Take deep breaths for me." Your mother raised her hands, prompting you to take a breath in and out as her hands lowered.

You gave her your practiced smile and curtsy to which your mother laid a hand on the small of your back in both approval and reassurance. With the other, she grabbed your own and rubbed comforting circles in the junction of your index finger and your thumb. "You have always excelled in your lessons, my dear. I could not be prouder of the woman you are becoming." She sniffed, and you smiled in appreciation. "The Queen will love you, I am sure of it."

You laughed. "Mama, that is what all these ladies think."

“But none of these ladies have poured in the determination you have, my dear.” Your mother holds your head gently by the cheeks. “Your character and proficiency⸺I am sure the Queen will see the promising young lady that I am proud to call my daughter.”

You felt a lump in your throat. While you appreciated your mother’s words, you could not help but think of the significance of this day. You almost felt dizzy thinking about messing up in front of the Queen; if you didn't find a suitable match as a result, what would become of you? 

Suddenly, there was some fanfare from the main room. "Now, presenting Miss Itadori and the Right Honourable Lady Itadori." Your heart jumped out of your throat as you heard the call for you and your mother to walk up. 

"Let's go, my dear." With a fond kiss to your temple, your mother led you by the hand to the center of the tall and ornate doors that opened to reveal the Queen and her audience. You couldn't help but notice that your mother's hand held a reassuring, yet tight vice. 

When the doors opened, your vision blurred. Your heartbeat got faster, and all you could register was the stares. What felt like a million pairs of eyes blinking upon you, scanning your coiffure, garments, and carefully painted face. While the gossiping widows and mamas whispered amongst themselves, some gentlemen scanned you up and down in clear assessment of your constitution. A distinct smell of tobacco and vanilla wafted through the air, and you took an imperceptible breath in as you steeled yourself before putting your practiced, signature smile. 

A memory from your childhood flashed before you.

"She is excelling in her studies," your tutor had said, discussing your performance with your mother in the drawing room. You, sitting beside them, had fidgeted nervously with your small hands clasped in your lap, sitting as straight as you could manage.

"What must she do to improve?" your mother inquired, her eyes sharp with concern.

"Madame," your tutor had said, turning his gaze towards you with a knowing look. "Your daughter is quite nearly flawless. She is of my most exceptional students; her obedience and composure are unparalleled, even at such a tender age." He then fixed his eyes back on your mother with an authoritative intensity. "But there is one element that will truly distinguish her as a diamond."

Your mother had leaned forward, abandoning her tea in anticipation. "What is it?"

"Her smile."

As you flash your smile to the room, you could feel the people in the room going silent. Your smile was what helped you focus and keep your eyes on the prize: impressing the queen. Smiling in the most innocent and demure way you could possibly muster, you straighten your posture as you advance towards the queen, your eyes serene and your expression a masterful display of delicate charm.

The stares of the ton were on your back, but all you focused on was the harmony of your countenance. Chin up, you reminded yourself. Everyone in this room is my prey, and I am the predator. 

When you and your mother reached the foot of the Queen's throne, you dipped into the deepest curtsy you had to offer, keeping your eyes on the ground as you minimized your smile to a more polite and respectful one. You stayed there for as long as the Queen was silent.

Then, a rustling of fabric as the room silently gasped. The Queen was stepping towards you, and you felt a gloved hand take your chin. Not daring to breathe or rise from your genuflection by even an inch, you forced your body to stay in position as your face was raised to look at the Queen’s.

Her booming, yet regal, voice echoed throughout the room. “You, my dear. Perfect.” She then addressed the room. “I have found my diamond!”

The declaration sent a wave of murmurs through the gathered crowd. You could feel hundreds of eyes on you as you slowly rose from your curtsy, your heart pounding in your chest. Your eyes instinctively sought your mother’s, who looked at you with pride and a hint of warning.

“Keep smiling, my dear,” she whispers into your ear. “They are staring now, more than ever.”

Your mother was right, upon reflection. There were eyes observing you far more diligently than they had before. In particular, a pair of icy and brilliant blue ones. 

“Choso, not today.” Your mother sighed. “I am not ignorant of your overprotective tendencies, especially towards your younger sister and brother.”

Choso was fully frowning in displeasure, arms crossed as he observed your mother, Yuji, and yourself board the carriage. “Mother. Sister is the diamond of the season. The men will be after her like hungry vultures!”

“Well, vultures have a tendency to eat freshly decayed carrion. When you get rid of those dark circles and don’t look like dead meat, you can join us.”

Choso protested further, stopping the doorman from closing the carriage door. “But, Mother⸺”

“Yuji, close the door. Your brother will join us when learns to get sleep and not work on those ledgers overnight.” As per your mother’s instructions, Yuji closes the door on him. As the carriage rolls out of your manor and into the London streets, you blow a mocking kiss to your brother, who is now brewing at the doorstep.

“Phew! Good riddance,” Your mother fanned herself. “I need this night with you, alone. God knows how many suitors will be warded off with that horrid glare of his.”

You laughed softly, leaning back against the plush cushions of the carriage. “I suppose it’s a small price to pay for a bit of peace.”

You and your mother were wrong; your brother should have been there. 

Upon your arrival, you were followed by stares, whispers, and men. Bachelors appeared in droves, eager to engage in conversation, each drawn by your newly anointed title as the diamond of the season. After paying your respects to the Queen, you found yourself swept into a whirlwind of attention, each dance and conversation a testament to the allure your status had brought.

As you navigated the crowd with practiced grace, Yuji, ever the observant and cheeky sibling, leaned in close to you and murmured, “I must say, you’ve outdone yourself. They’re practically circling like hawks. Do you think we’ll need to hire a guard just to keep them at bay?”

You gave him a wry smile, barely concealing your exasperation. “Oh, Yuji, you’re so dramatic. They’re just eager to make their introductions.”

Yuji snickered and nodded towards a particularly earnest-looking gentleman who seemed to be making a concerted effort to catch your attention. “Well, if this is what the season looks like, I might have to prepare myself for a front-row seat to a parade of besotted suitors. Just don’t let them all think you’re here to catch them; we wouldn’t want them getting the wrong idea.”

Your mother, overhearing Yuji’s jest, gave a light laugh and shook her head. “Oh, Yuji, you and your theatrics. Just make sure you’re ready to fend off any advances that come your way.”

“What?” You’ve never seen Yuji’s smile drop so fast. As if on cue, there were mamas and maidens closer to Yuji’s age that were approaching, as if a pack, and he looked at you in panic. “Are they coming towards us? Sister, you’ve got to⸺”

“Mister Itadori,” It appeared it was too late. A pack of young ladies were right next to you, fluttering their fans and lashes and giggling. “Whistledown has praised you quite well in this last issue.”

Help, Yuji mouthed, but you merely winked in response. The young ladies had effectively formed a barrier around you, offering a temporary reprieve from the throng of eager suitors. Sensing an opportunity, you decided to seize the moment and discreetly made your way towards the punch table.  

The cool, refreshing scent of the punch greeted you as you approached, offering a welcome contrast to the bustling, heated atmosphere of the ballroom. You filled a glass with the fruity, aromatic beverage and took a moment to savor the brief solitude.As soon as you took a deep breath in, savoring your newfound freedom, you felt a presence next to you at the punch table. “Miss Itadori.”

Upon turning, you were met with the infallible smirk of Naoya Zen’in. You had indeed heard⸺and read, in Whistledown⸺that his family adopted nontraditional ways of determining the winner of the family inheritance and leadership. While Lord Zen’in wasn’t guaranteed to be the heir, he definitely was one of the top contenders. You assessed him further, taking in his arrogant demeanor as he reached down to give you a kiss on your hand. Rather wet, you thought in disgust.  

But you hid it well, fluttering your lashes up at him. “Mister Zen’in! I am flattered to be acquainted with you today. How do you find today’s ball?”

“Rather well, of course.” He reached to scoop some punch for himself. “I enjoy meeting all the young ladies and dancing with them, of course. Ever in search of my perfect bride.”

You forced an artificial giggle. “Of course. I’m sure all the ladies that have talked to you have been charmed, as am I.”

He swelled, exactly you expected, as you stroked his ego. “But none of these ladies are as valuable as you, my diamond.” To your displeasure, he took a step closer to you, discreetly tracing his finger from your upper arm to where your dance card resided. “May I have your next dance? I have been perfecting my dance skill to the point all my brothers are envious of my prowess!” He barked out a laugh. “In fact, I beat them in horse riding years ago, and…”  

While Naoya kept talking, you merely fluttered your fan over your face in mock interest. You were really starting to mourn your short-founded freedom, wanting a respite from the self obsessed young man. For some reason, you could smell the same distinctive perfume of expensive tobacco and painfully sweet vanilla you had smelled in your presentation, like a warning. Realizing you were drifting off into space with the heady fragrance, you made sure to tune into his ramblings once more.

For some reason⸺that you were growing to find uncomfortable⸺he still had his hand on your dance card. You felt the previously faint aroma growing stronger by the second. “Of course, I am soon to be the heir of the Zen’in name⸺”

A flamboyant and mischievous laugh cut through the air. “Naoya, you amuse me.” To your alarm, a young man steps to the right of you. From what you can see on the side of his face, his head sports brilliant white hair and his eyes are focused on the bachelor in front of you, who is now displeased and openly glaring at the man beside you.

“Gojo, I⸺”

“Funny that you talk about the Zen’in inheritance, Naoya.” The man⸺Gojo⸺scratched his chin in faux puzzlement while cockily smiling. “Last time I checked, Naobito was discussing handing it over to Megumi over pall-mall!”

Naoya was clearly growing more and more distressed. “Father wouldn’t dare to hand that child with a whore of a mother⸺”

Gojo clicked his tongue, outwardly showing a nonchalant smile, but you could noticeably see his eyes darken. “That’s no way to talk in front of a lady, Naoya, and certainly not of a mother. Besides, Mister Zen’in, didn’t Megumi save your family from the edge of poverty?”

Naoya’s nostrils flared. Clearly at the end of his wit, he did a small bow towards you as he swiftly exited your proximity. You blinked, partially processing the conversation that happened as well as the fact that you were now alone with this Gojo. Turning, you prepared your signature smile, the act you had been presenting for countless of young bachelors today. However, what made you stop in your tracks was his eyes.

Even the pure Englishmen you had met in London didn’t possess eyes like his. They were intense and vividly blue, flashing with judgment and calculation. His face, though strikingly pretty and slightly more feminine than others, seemed carefully constructed to mask his true thoughts. His white lashes contrasted sharply with his hair as he blinked.

And then it hit you. This was the heir of the Gojo dukedom, Satoru Gojo. Known as a capital R Rake for reasons unknown to you (Nobara just insisted he was), you could see elegance and arrogance exuding off of him, yet another noble with an ego as big as his wallet. You recall, then, what Whistledown had wrote about him⸺that he has never shown interest in marriage before today.

It was only after he blinked once more that you realized he was waiting for some response to an introuction you didn't catch. In a panicked flurry, you curtsied and said, “My apologies, Mister Gojo. I fear I haven’t had the pleasure of making your acquaintance. Miss Itadori, pleased to meet you.”

Gojo’s smile widened, his blue eyes twinkling with an almost imperceptible amusement. “A pleasure indeed, Miss Itadori.” He returned your curtsy with an elegant nod, his voice smooth and teasing. “I must say, you handle yourself with admirable grace amidst such a tumultuous crowd, my diamond.”

“Thank you, Mr. Gojo,” you replied, attempting to regain your composure as you took a sip of your punch. “I do try my best to navigate these social minefields.”

He chuckled softly, the sound light and charming. “Indeed. Though it seems you’ve had quite the evening already, judging by your rapid responses to Lord Zen’in’s advances.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to draw a hint of a smile on your lips. “It appears you’ve been observing closely. Are you always so keenly aware of your surroundings, Mister Gojo?”

“Only when I find the scene particularly entertaining,” he said, his gaze shifting to watch the guests around the ballroom. “And tonight, the spectacle is quite extraordinary. I must admit, you are a refreshing change from the usual parade of predictable manners.”

“Predictable?” you asked, your curiosity somewhat piqued. “Do you find most of the guests here lacking in originality?”

“Perhaps not lacking, but certainly not as intriguing,” he replied with a playful grin. “Take, for instance, Mister Zen’in. A man of considerable ambition, no doubt, but with a flair for the dramatic that grows tiresome rather quickly.”

You nodded in agreement. “Yes, he certainly has a penchant for self-promotion. But then, one could argue that every gentleman here has his own brand of theatrics.”

“True,” Gojo said, tilting his head slightly. “But what I find most fascinating is how you’ve managed to stand out amidst this display of pomp and circumstance. It’s not every day one encounters someone who seems so effortlessly poised, even in the face of such overt competition.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mister Gojo,” you said with a light laugh. “But I assure you, my composure is a carefully cultivated skill, not merely a natural state.”

“Ah, then I must commend your efforts,” Gojo said, his eyes gleaming. “It is a rare talent to maintain such grace under pressure. If I may be so bold, might I request the honor of a dance with you this evening? I promise to provide a diversion from the usual pretenses.”

You hesitated for a moment, weighing the potential benefits of engaging further with this intriguing man against the immediate demands of the evening. Finally, you offered him a meek smile. "Of course. I shall be delighted to dance this waltz with you."

Pleased, he guided you to the center of the ballroom, your hand elegantly placed in his. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of triumph as you noticed Lady Mei Mei’s envious glances and the heated stares from other young ladies.

Gojo positioned his hand on your waist as you both assumed the proper stance for the dance. “So, how are you enjoying your night? I trust you’re finding pleasure amidst the horde of suitors the Queen has so graciously provided.”

You smiled demurely, carefully maneuvering around him. “Well, my lord, I am very grateful to the Queen for her blessing this season.” You took a delicate step, noting Gojo’s amused smile. “However, it is quite tiring to meet so many people. Repeating my preferences for the countryside or the city can become rather exhausting.”

Gojo’s smile widened as he guided you through a graceful turn. “And which do you prefer?”

“I would argue that the city is preferable when I feel lonely,” you said, gliding with him. “Yet the countryside is ideal for moments of solitude and reflection. Naturally, it also serves as a lovely setting for fond memories with a future husband.”

“What do you enjoy doing in nature?”.

“Embroidering or practicing the pianoforte,” you replied, making sure to display a wistful smile. “There is something particularly enchanting about playing the piano with the door open, letting nature's melody blend with the music.”

“Do you have any other talents or skills?” Gojo inquired as you both continued your dance.

“Yes,” you said, “I am fond of reading and immersing myself in literature. I also have a passion for the arts and languages.”

“Which languages do you speak?” he asked, guiding you through a series of intricate steps.

“I am well-versed in the classics⸺Latin and Greek. I’ve also picked up some French and Spanish, when I was yearning to follow my older brother through Europe for years.”

“What about literature? What do you enjoy reading?” Gojo pressed, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your smile grew slightly strained as you felt the conversation veer towards an uncomfortable territory. You felt as if the duke was interviewing you for review of your admission into an academic institution rather than holding conversation. “I enjoy Byron, sir,” you said carefully.

Gojo hummed in approval. “And here I was, thinking all ladies were engrossed in Whistledown.”

“Ah, well,” you feigned a sigh, your smile tight. “Gossip has its charm for a lady, sometimes.”

“For men, too, I must admit,” Gojo said, tilting his head towards his group of friends. “But I must confess, it is rather unpleasant when the gossip circulates that I am a rake.”

That's because they're true, you whore. "I guess it's up to the smarter individuals in society to discern the truth from the slander."

Gojo’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he guided you through the final steps of the dance. “Indeed, it seems wisdom and discernment are valuable traits in navigating the labyrinth of society’s gossip.”

You nodded. “Quite so. It is the discerning few who see beyond the surface and recognize the true character of a person.”

As the music swelled to its concluding notes, Gojo drew you closer, his gaze fixed on you with a calculative expression. “And what is it that you seek to convey through your own character, Miss Itadori? In a world full of pretense, what do you wish to be known for?”

You maintained your practiced smile. "Mister Gojo, in a world where appearances often speak louder than words, I find it best to embody grace and humility. I hope to be seen as a gentle and devoted companion, one who supports and uplifts those around her.”

Gojo’s smile only sharpened, and you couldn’t help but shake the feeling of somehow being calculated, observed, even hunted as he offered,  “A noble aspiration. It is refreshing to encounter someone who values authenticity amidst the artifice.”

As the final strains of the waltz came to an end, Gojo escorted you back to your starting position. He bowed deeply, his eyes never leaving yours. “Thank you for the dance, Miss Itadori. It has been an evening of unexpected delights.”

You curtsied in return, your eyes meeting his with a demure and sincere expression. “The pleasure was mine, my lord. I am honored to have had this opportunity.”

With a final, charming smile, Gojo stepped back, giving you a nod. “Until we meet again, Miss Itadori. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

After Gojo had taken his leave, you found yourself once again surrounded by a steady stream of suitors eager to engage you in conversation. You indulged a few with polite discourse, your smile unwavering as you navigated the well-trodden paths of societal pleasantries. Despite your best efforts, fatigue began to set in, and you soon reached your limit.

Deciding to take a brief respite, you excused yourself with practiced grace. You made your way discreetly to the veranda, seeking solace and a breath of fresh air away from the relentless din of the ballroom. As you stepped out into the cool night air, the sound of the revelry faded to a distant murmur, replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves and the faint scent of blooming flowers.

With your mind fresh and clear from the suffocating revelry, you couldn't help but reflect back on the night. With the Queen deeming you as the diamond of the season, you knew your mother and Choso had been appeased. Of course, tomorrow was going to be a long morning; judging by the sheer number of young men approaching you today, you knew many of them would be visiting your drawing room to converse with you and gain the approval of your brother.

There were some suitors that stood out. Lord Ino seemed to take genuine interest in what you had to say, but Mister Fushiguro had both interest and quiet respect that you couldn't help but think was ideal for a marriage. After all, you just wanted a peaceful life after securing yourself and your family. While brief, you had conversed a bit with both Duke Nanami and Lord Geto, but it had been interrupted by some of their friends inviting them onto the terrace. You were sure Naoya wouldn't bother showing his face tomorrow.

That left him. Blue eyes. You couldn't help but think you had heard about him somewhere. 

Gojo.

Even though you couldn't recall much other than his rakish tendencies, the future title of Duke was certainly attractive and respectable. He wasn't so bad; with dashing looks, you couldn't help but simply think that a pretty face wouldn't be bad to look at for all those years. You snickered to yourself at your sheer display of vanity in your thoughts.

If you had to think of the most vain reasons to justify your suitors, Mister Gojo would definitely top your list of the most handsome of men. With a sturdy and healthy build, you could notice the years of dedication he must put in to maintain his athleticism. Perhaps archery, you thought. Those shoulders were definitely wide for days. Or maybe horse riding. He definitely seemed to fill in his pants with his thighs.

However, it was impossible to ignore his mischievous nature. You couldn't imagine a man such as the future Duke showing any outward display of affection, and all your interactions⸺from him outwitting Naoya, to interviewing you under the pretense of dancing⸺have always had him either besting or calculating the other converser. He definitely had a superiority complex, you rolled your eyes. Clearly, your display of the simple and stupid maiden pleased him. You wondered if he treated all the other ladies with the same level of disrespect and evaluation.

Deciding you were too far into the gardens, you turned the opposite direction to join the revelry once more in fear of attracting strange rumors about your presence in the gardens late at night. As soon as you got closer and closer to the ballroom, you heard voices.

"Ah, but there is the diamond, of course." 

You perked up, interested in knowing who was talking about you. The voices seemed to be coming from the entrance between the terrace and the ballroom. "Of course, I understand why the Queen has deemed her so." Crouching, you aimed to discreetly hide behind a large trimmed bush in such a manner that if someone were to be passing by, you wouldn’t appear suspicious. 

Another voice chimed in. “She is beautiful. Not in the salacious way Lady Mei Mei is, but in a more authentic and innocent way.” 

“I fear the ladies nowadays are salacious⸺hungry for suitors with money and power⸺so it only makes sense that the ladies appear that way. But the diamond; she is different.”

A slap, as if someone was affectionately patted on the back for attention. “Yes, yes. But let the man of the night give us his assessment. After all, he is the one who is here tonight with us, finding a wife, when no one who had ever talked to him would ever think he would be doing such a thing.”

“Well, of course. It wouldn’t take a fool to know that marriage is basically imprisonment.” You could discern the speaker’s wry tone. “The goal here is to appease my parents, and my ticket to that is the diamond.”

“Well, get on with it,” a voice pressed, rather impatiently. “What’s your assessment?”

“A bit simpleminded.” Some feeling struck your lungs, as you recognized that it was Gojo’s voice that was speaking. You swallowed, your heart pounding as you waited for more harsh words to torrent upon you. “Has no opinions of substance that should cause conflict. She’s perfectly fine for a wife. I shall begin courting her and will soon propose⸺"

You didn’t hear the rest because you soon found yourself dashing in the opposite direction, towards an alternate entrance to the ballroom. You couldn’t bear to hear any of the more degrading and embarrassing things Gojo had to say about you as you slowed your pace to a fast walk. 

With the main entrance to the ballroom in sight, you thought about the other gentlemen⸺if you could even call them that⸺that must be present, conversing with Gojo. How widespread are these assessments of you? Do all gentlemen think you stupid? However, your thoughts are interrupted when you bump into someone, rather hard.

“Are you alright?”

You look up, putting a hand to your bosom as you try to catch your breath. You see Duke Nanami’s face in close proximity, as he furrows his brow in light worry. You’re clutching your forearms as you are heaving, trying to get oriented. “Yes,” you heave. “Yes, Your Grace.” 

Nanami clearly didn’t accept your assurance as he helped you stand to your full height. “Is there anything wrong?”

“No, no, I assure you; I am quite alri⸺”

“Sister! There you are!” Yuji comes up from behind Nanami, and both of you turn to look at him. “I’ve been looking for you! The punch here is terrible, some of the mamas here are horribly intoxicated. Do you know Mei Mei’s mother just admit⸺” he cuts himself off as he observes Nanami, who’s still touching your arms,  with wide eyes. “Di⸺Did I interrupt something?”

“NO, you didn’t.” You burst out, not wanting yet another man leaving with an unfavorable expression of you tonight. You and Nanami both take a step back to distance yourselves, and he clears his throat.

“Good night, Miss Itadori. Mister Itadori.” He gives you both curt bows as he makes his way past to his carriage.

Yuji blinks. “Oookay. Anyways. Mei Mei’s mother just barfed on top of Naoya as she was buttering him up. I must admit, Mei Mei and Naoya make a formidable match in being intolera⸺”

You could feel yourself filtering Yuji out as you thought about the gentlemen’s gossip from earlier. While you weren’t exactly surprised that Gojo appraised you as a pawn, you couldn’t help but be a little offended that he could talk behind your back. Who’s to predict the other naive ladies that would be subject to his callous and calculative behavior?

 There was only one conclusion to be drawn that you swear to remember for the rest of the season: Gojo was not a man of honor, and you were not going to be one of his victims. 

next. the aftermath

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[alteredphoenix]

Ice-Head Gill was a fun little introductory read for a first chapter. The storyboarding could definitely use some polishing but beyond that I think it has some decent promise to.

Fingers crossed it doesn’t crash and burn like Red Hood and Earthchild did nor go full GOTTA GO FAST like Ginka and Gluna decided to do right out the gate.

[utterlyazriel]

let me keep you company

a/n: a wee break from the doom & gloom of wtssf! it's unedited so i want no flack for that thank u <3 enjoy <3 wc: 5.1k whoops synopsis: You're studying in Velaris and a certain Shadowsinger catches your eyes in more than one way. It takes a while to realise the shadow keeping you company means more than you expect.

For the record, you had never met a Shadowsinger before.

You'd never even seen one. Sure, you’d read about them briefly in your studies and almost every Fae in Prythian had heard about them in whispers and rumours.

Rumours that increased more so when a Shadowsinger rose to become a hand for the Highlord, his own personal spy. Then became the spymaster of the entire Night Court for the next Highlord.

But beyond gossip and unfinished chapters within the scripts of your libraries, the knowledge of Shadowsingers is far limited. They’re rare. For all you know, Shadowsinger’s are a ghost— moving as a shadow, disappearing in and out of the darkness of the world.

You had never met a Shadowsinger before—so it makes sense that you hadn't an ounce of a clue what to expect.

Staring at him now, 6 feet something of pure muscle, you're a bit embarrassed at your own surprise.

Because he's probably— no definitely— the most beautiful Fae you've ever laid eyes on. His hair is tousled and dark, his glorious tan skin that's mostly hidden beneath the black of his fighter leathers, and his amber eyes that laid on you for only one long moment. Breathtaking is the only adequate word for him.

All that beauty and he's a Shadowsinger.

And it's not like you thought he wouldn't be like, well, any other Fae. But also... you kinda did? Mother, you should've known Freya was tricking you when she said they were all just shadow-y corporeal forms.

But she's also not entirely wrong there. There are dozens of wispy shadows that hover around him in constant motion, dipping and flying around his shoulders and if you look close enough, you can see how he seems to ripple at the edges. Shadows blur the edge of his very being.

You wonder if he can disappear into them all together, if that was one of the abilities granted with them. Does he control them? He must, you think, if the title is Shadowsinger.

But looking at him now, his beautiful face turned to face the Highlord you should definitely be listening to, they flit about almost absentmindedly, as though they have a mind of their own.

One curls up by his ear and you watch it, fascinated, more and more questions springing up in your mind— what do they feel like on skin? Do they make any noise? Is that what they're doing now? Talking to—

A sharp elbow jabs into your side, making you jump.

Your head whips to the side, an instinctive scowl almost overtaking your face before you plaster it over with a smile, realising your mistake. Your mentor, Sergei, clears his throat and smiles awkwardly ahead at Rhysand. You blink and take another moment to realise you've been asked a question.

"I'm— I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" You try not to sound as mousy as you feel but the question comes out as a squeak anyway. He is the Highlord of the Night Court after all. You suddenly feel very foolish for being so easily distracted.

Thankfully, Rhysand regards you with an easy smile. He's leaned back in his chair, relaxed, and his violet eyes dance with humour as he flicks his gaze over to where you had just been staring.

"That's alright. Azriel is a piece of eye candy, I can't blame you for staring," He all but purrs, a hint of mirth pulling at his lips as he casts another glance at his Spymaster. You're taken aback by the casualness of his words.

Rhysand continues. "I was only saying that for the duration of your stay, you'll be hosted in one of my homes, the House of Wind. You aren't afraid of heights, are you?"

A smidge of fear pinches at your stomach because, honestly, you aren't overly keen on the idea. But you know better than to turn down the generosity of a Highlord.

You take another glance at the wings of his Spymaster and General and pray that it's not too high up.

"Not... much." You answer honestly.

There's a chuckle from the side of the room and your head swings around at the noise. It's not the Shadowsinger, though he looks as though he's politely trying not to smile, his chin ducked. It's the General, just as beautiful as his brother but in that more rugged way.

He flexes his wings out a bit, showing off their mighty wingspan. "We'll rid you of that fear in no time."

You try for a smile but it might be closer to a grimace.

"Fantastic." You say, not managing to put all your enthusiasm into the word like you hoped.

Another sharp jab of Sergei's elbow in your side. The Shadowsinger, Azriel, huffs a quiet laugh, his amber eyes flashing up to steal another look at you. You try your best not to fluster.

It's going to be a long two months.

—

As Sergei's apprentice, you're expected to shadow him through his allowed time within Velaris.

Which means if he goes to the library, you go to the library.

There's just one problem; the library is down in the city and your temporary home is up in the mountain. The quickest way down is with wings.

Rhysand— or just Rhys as he had told you to call him— had relayed the information that you could ask either Cassian or Azriel to escort you if you didn't wish to take the stairs.

Cassian, the General, had been the one to fly you down and back the first couple of times you had asked and you weren't in any particular hurry to relive the experience.

Cassian was nice and he was more than friendly but seemingly incapable of understanding any fear of heights. You weren't sure if that was just the only way to fly— swooping and dropping fast enough to make you shriek— but it certainly seemed to be Cassian's way.

Which leaves you with the option of either asking the Shadowsinger or taking the stairs.

You get down about two hundred steps before you start to regret your decision. But, also, how in the Cauldron were you supposed to ask him to take you? (Never mind that you had asked Cassian quite easily, albeit very nervously.)

Oh, hi Shadowsinger who I can't stop staring at for both your abilities and your handsome face—care to sweep me into your arms and carry me places?

As if, you snort to yourself.

You take the thousand stairs all the way to the bottom and trot towards the enormous library, pretending your thighs aren't aching with overuse or that you're out of breath. Thankfully, the library itself isn't too far from the House of Wind, carved into the same side of the mountain.

As expected, Sergei is less than pleased with your tardiness.

"Sorry," The word rushes out of you in a wheeze, probably too loud for the library, as you scuttle in the entrance. A few priestesses turn their heads to look at you and you cringe, raising your hands in apology. "Sorry, I'm sorry,"

You focus back on your mentor and try to catch your breath, all while you explain. "I took the stairs and it took—" You huff out a breath. "—way longer than I thought."

Sergei's face softens a bit at your explanation, his face taking on a pitiful smile. "Still not enjoying the flying?"

"You are?" You ask in response. The thought of Sergei, your old-Fae mentor, swept up in Cassian's arms as he dips and dives makes you chuckle just a bit.

Sergei shakes his head as if to change the topic of conversation, deciding you've wasted enough time already. He turns, beginning to head further into the library and you follow behind him closely, eager to brush over your early morning fumble. The cavernous structure within the mountain yawns out ahead of you and you get all of two moments to wonder just how deep down it goes, when—

"You did not ask for a ride this morning."

Azriel steps up beside you, seemingly from nowhere, his steps falling in time with yours with ease. You jump, startled, and your footsteps falter for a moment. You're relieved to say that you only make one embarrassing noise in your surprise.

"I— oh, it's— I mean, I just..." You trail off, feeling flustered. "...like to walk."

You chance a glance up at him. He's wearing that same polite expression from yesterday, as though he's trying not to laugh and you get too caught up in the swirlings of his shadows to remember to be properly embarrassed. Both of you walk in tandem behind Sergei, slowly descending into the lower levels of the library.

"If you insist," He says, his voice low. It sends something warm down your spine and you pray he doesn't notice how your body temperature is definitely climbing.

His amber eyes pin you with another look, his lips twitching into a small smile. "However, if Cassian is giving you trouble, I would be happy to provide a smoother ride."

You flounder for a moment. You don't want to get anyone in trouble.

"I— he's not giving me trouble," You stammer.

Azriel smiles a little wider as if he can tell how polite you're trying to be. He slows to a meander and you realise only after you walk past him, it's because Sergei has stopped himself, turning down one of the many aisles.

You skid yourself to a halt and turn back, praying your flaming face isn't as obvious as it feels. You're not entirely sure if Azriel is accompanying you today but you're sure that Sergei would've mentioned it if he was.

You dip your head in a strange, awkward bow motion. Then point to the aisle Sergei disappeared into.

"I'll be... going this way."

Azriel's smile grows, like you've told a joke, and he ducks his head. He peers up at you through his dark lashes and you wonder if anyone's ever told him how damn beautiful he is. Probably. You're probably the last in a long line of people. Mother, his eyes though.

"If you don't wish to make the hike the other way," He murmurs.

He extends one of his hands and you watch the dozen shadows swarm around it, one of them separating from the pack to dive to the ground. It shoots forward and spins around your ankle, almost happily. "Just let the shadow know. I would be happy to assist."

When you look back up, he’s already gone without a sound. You try not to look so surprised— you’ve seen someone winnow before but you’re almost certain that the way Azriel moved about silently was something else altogether.

“Y/n!” Sergei’s voice echoes down the shelves, reminding you that you’re still late. You throw a quick glance around to check but it's fruitless; you can’t see the Shadowsinger anywhere.

You turn and bustle down the aisle quickly, not wanting to keep Sergei any longer. It takes only a second to notice the sole, black shadow that dances along behind you.

Guess you have company.

—

Okay, so, the shadows are definitely their own little guys.

Mainly because you can’t imagine how Azriel would be controlling them when he’s nowhere in sight.

And this one shadow is being awfully helpful.

The first time you drop your quill, knocking it to the ground as you lean over one of the many intricately carved desks, trying to reach another book, you don’t even notice it fall to the ground.

In fact, you have no idea how many times it’s picked up your fallen quill that you’ve undoubtedly knocked over countless times— only that it had given you the fright of your life to have it hover before your face, gripped only by the wispy shadow Azriel left with you.

“Holy shit!” You gasp, your loud voice echoing in the quietness of the library.

Sergei's head whips up, his eyes narrowing at the intruding sound with evident disapproval. You quickly snatch the quill out of mid-air and sink down in your seat. Gods, the echoes in here were doing you no favours.

“Sorry,” You whisper. Your eyes dart down to the shadow that retreated to your side, flickering around your ankle more wildly. “Er, thanks.”

It feels a bit silly to give thanks to something you’re not sure can hear you. But you figure if it can pick up your quill, you're better off using your manners.

Sergei gives you a somewhat bewildered look and you try to appease him with an awkward smile. It works enough for him to continue his work but not without one more lingering glance of worry in your direction. Great. You're talking to shadows and your old-man mentor thinks you're a bit nuts.

The shadow continues its helpful endeavours, following you when you head down different aisles at Sergei's request. It dances across the shelves, dissolving occasionally just to puff back up somewhere else, pulling your attention this way and that. It's playful. Friendly.

You deduce by the end of the day that you know even less about Shadowsinger's than you had thought. The abilities and personality of just one shadow are uncanny; like a silent friend keeping you company. You imagine that Azriel rarely gets lonely with as many as he has. Maybe you'll ask him.

When Sergei and you wind back up the staircases and he dismisses you for the evening, heading into the city for his own further business, you stand at the mouth of the library and ponder if you'll be brave enough to summon the Shadowsinger.

The shadow is still with you, circling your wrist absently. You peer down at it and think of all those stairs. Somewhat nervously, you raise your hand and try to be as casual as possible about talking to a shadow on your hand.

"Hi." You start, trying not to feel foolish. "Um, well, I guess I'm done for the day. Could— could you, if he's not busy that is, uh, let Azriel know? I don't mind waiting if he is."

The shadow zips off barely before you can finish your sentence and your head swings to watch it go, disappearing somewhere to your left.

You can't help but be a little amazed at its speed—it must be an incredible networking system to have a thousand little spies running around for you. No wonder almost all Shadowsingers tend to end up in the same line of work, you think to yourself, still peering in the direction of the shadow when—

"Y/n."

Even though he's said your name soft and quiet, Azriel still manages to take you by surprise. You jump and turn, all in one motion.

"Mother!" Your hand holds over your chest, relief curling in at the sides as your fright ebbs away. "That was fast."

"You called," Azriel responds, as if it's the easiest thing in the world. He gives you an almost shy smile.

It makes you fluster a bit and you gesture to the exit awkwardly and wordlessly, if only so you don't have to come up with a response to his intense and endearing answer.

Together, you wander out from the library and creep towards the edge of Velaris. It's a beautiful city and more than deserving of its title, especially when viewed from the House of Wind. You turn and cast your eyes up the mountainside, your familiar nervous fear pitching up from your stomach.

Then you look at the warrior beside you, tall enough that he's got what feels like more than a head's height on you, with his wings reaching above even his own head. His jaw is sharp and his eyes are already on you as your gaze trails up his face. Fuck. He's really pretty.

Now you're nervous for an entirely different reason.

"We can still take the stairs if you wish," He says, his hand sweeping back to the path you had followed along this morning. His shadows move with his hands, a black vortex that whirls around and around. "I'd be more than happy to keep you company."

Mother, he's not helping you in the slightest, being so perfectly nice to you. You regard the stairs and think back to how many hours it took before your thighs stopped aching—and that was on the way down.

"No, we can- we can try flying again." You say, nodding to yourself as if it'll help quell your fear. It takes another moment to realise that means you'll be bundled up in his strong arms, held against his broad chest and you feel a little shiver run through your body at the thought.

Azriel notices it too, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. "You're sure?" He checks.

You nod, not meeting his eyes, trying to keep your nerve. Flying is already something you're not keen on. Flying whilst being swept up in the arms of a Shadowsinger who you think is the most beautiful Fae you've ever seen? You send a silent prayer to the Mother that you don't do something embarrassing, like puking down his front.

"Let me know if you're uncomfortable at any time," He says softly and then he bends his knees slightly, one of his scarred hands resting on your lower back as the other scoops beneath your knees. He lifts you as though you weigh nothing.

It's impossible not to flush as you get nestled against his firm chest, your hands panicking for a moment as you try to think of a normal place to put them. Around his neck? On his chest? Either of them feels far too intimate for a man you've known only a week.

"You don't have to but I would suggest holding on," Azriel comments with a smile, his chest vibrating with the words. You nod, agreeing with him, but don't make a move to do so, only holding your hands out in front of you to indicate you're not sure where to put them.

The shadows adorning his shoulders move on their own, their friendly presence easing your nerves as they slither down to circle around your wrists. There's a gentle tug and you let them move your hands til they're wrapped around Azriel's neck, moving you much closer in the process.

Gods, your faces are close together. Another couple of inches and you could probably press your lips to his perfect ones—a thought that makes you fluster all over again. Was he getting prettier every time you saw him? For not the first time, you thank the Mother that it was Rhys with the daemaeti gift and not Azriel.

"Ready?" He checks, which is sweet. Cassian had just shot up into the sky the first time, without any warning.

You grip your arms around his neck a little tighter and then nod. "Ready," You say, quieter than intended.

You catch just a moment of Azriel's demure smile, your heart swooping at the sight, before you're both launched into the sky with one flap of his wings.

The noise that escapes you is one you're less than proud of, a squawky sound noise of panic that you bury into Azriel's neck. You expect him to laugh like Cassian had, not meanly but playfully, but instead Azriel's arms just tighten around you. As if he was assuring you that he would not let you fall.

By the time you're up at the House of Wind, Azriel making a far more graceful descent than his brother, you're less freaked out and more ready to point some accusatory fingers in the face of the Night Court's General.

That bastard had been fucking with you! The flight with Azriel proved as much, considering how much calmer and smoother it had been. You couldn't help but say as much as you were placed down from Azriel's hold, glad to be back on solid ground.

"I have some words for Cassian, Mother above," You ramble, straightening out your rumpled clothes from the flight. "Did he think I was kidding when I said I was afraid?"

Azriel smiles at your fieriness, his shadows calmer than they were in flight, moving about lazily. His eyes take a fleeting glance at the house behind you before focusing intently back on you.

"Cassian can have a strange sense of humour at times. He means well." He says. Then he grins. "I should like to see you tell him off— not enough people do."

You hmph. "Maybe I will."

You suddenly realise the closeness between you and Azriel, close enough to feel the warmth of his body. His scent of cedar and mist swirls around you, tantalizing and alluring in a way you've never known before. You take a step back to contain yourself.

"I—uh, well, thank you very much." You say, as sweet as you can. "For the ride."

Your eyes catch on one of his dozen shadows and you smile, observing them for a moment. "And the shadow. It was excellent company."

Azriel brightens, an expression of surprise crossing his face before he schools it away. He smiles, brazen and breathtaking. When he speaks, he sounds a little disbelieving. "You like them?"

You nod quickly, noticing how one of his shadows has snuck off again and circulates your ankle speedily. You laugh at the ticklish feeling of it against your skin.

"They're incredible." You breathe, meaning every word. "I imagine you must've ge—"

"Apologies, y/n." A smooth voice cuts in, Rhys stepping up somewhere behind you and stealing both of your attention. He dressed in more casual clothes than you last saw, but not quite Azriel's fighting leathers. "Azriel here is needed for some brief business. Do you mind if I borrow him?"

The way he poses the question, as if Azriel is yours, does something wonky to your heart. You flounder for a moment, stepping back and waving your hand in the direction of the Shadowsinger.

"Of- of course, by all means." You trip over the words and hope you don't sound too eager to escape his company. That couldn't be more untrue.

You turn back to Azriel and fix him with a smile, hoping it's not as nervous as you feel. "I'll... see you around?"

Azriel steals a glance to the side where Rhys awaits before he nods with another reserved smile. Hold on, is that pink on his cheeks?

"Let me know if you need any more help getting to and from the library. I'd be happy to assist."

And then with a quick nod to you, he walks off to join Rhys, his wings tucked in tight, careful to not nudge you. You watch them go, unable to stop yourself from letting your eyes wander down. Damn, all that training did wonders. What was that saying? Hate to watch 'em go, love to watch them leave.

Ahead, Rhys abruptly laughs and peers back over his shoulder, letting you exactly how well you had shielded those thoughts. You flush and scurry into the house as if it'll save you from the embarrassment of what's just happened. You only hope he won't pass the message on to Azriel.

—

It continues like that for the rest of the week.

Azriel carries you down the height of the mountain and leaves you with a promise that if you need anything, you can tell the shadow and he'll come to find you.

The shadow keeps its usual playful company. Beyond retrieving your dropped quills, it helpfully turns the pages of books for you. When you're focused on what you're writing, it nudges back any loose strands of hair. Once it even brings you a flower from Mother knows where. One single Lily of the Valley, left resting on your desk.

It makes you wonder; are all Shadowsinger's shadows like this? You can't help but imagine these niceties are shaped by Azriel's own soft nature.

Today, whilst you study in the vast caverns of the library, you get an unexpected visitor.

As you take your time scanning through the books in one of the vast aisles, you realise the Fae coming down from the other end of the aisle is none other than the Highlady herself.

"Feyre!" You greet warmly. The two of you had met before when she had taken duties in your home court and if it weren't too bold, you'd say you consider yourself good friends. Feyre smiles, glowing like moonlight, as she realises who it is.

"Y/n," She says your name sweetly and her hug is just as such. She pulls away, ready to inquire about your studies when she spots the trailing shadow behind you.

"Making friends, I see," She comments. Her eyebrows raise almost teasingly as if she's made a certain insinuation. You take a moment to notice what she's referencing.

"It's nice," You say, a defensive lilt to your tone. You hold out your hand and the shadow jumps at the opportunity to skitter around it playfully. "It's like a little friend."

Feyre smiles at your words but chuckles a little. "Except Azriel is anything but little."

You pause at her words, glancing down at the shadow and back up at Feyre. "What do you mean? I thought— they're not- I mean, aren't they...?”

You trail off, unsure of how to word the question you're trying to ask. Feyre smiles, her gray eyes glittering with mirth as she realises what you're figuring out.

"They're all his. Azriel's. He controls them." She tilts her head a bit, watching the shadow that drifts about your hand and wrist. "True, they roam a bit on their own but... Not like this."

"Oh," You murmur, thinking back to that first day in the library.

The playful shadow that lead you back and forth, picking up your quill and turning your pages. It was him, all along.

Something immeasurably warm starts to glow in your chest, a thread that loops through your heart and sends the valves into overdrive. Its warmth grows, something molten hot beginning to bleed in your chest— and it feels wonderful. It feels right.

"Oh," You gasp as you figure it out.

Feyre grins, watching you piece together what the rest of the inner circle has clued together from the very first day. She stands to the side and gestures to the entrance of the library with a tilt of her head.

"Go on then," She urges you.

For a moment, you think back to Sergei who sent you hunting for a certain manuscript Cauldron knows how long ago but the thought is washed away in an instant. You can feel it now, the strong tug in your chest. The connection that binds you to another.

You stride past Feyre, giving a quick thanks! and all but run up the spiral staircases, heading for the entrance. The shadow pings along with you and as you near the top, you look down at it and say through huffed breaths, "You better go get him."

He's waiting by the time you get there.

Against the setting sun, for a moment there's only the silhouette of him— a warrior with tall wings, the edges of him rippling like a mirage. He might just be one; an oasis in your life, the answer that you've been searching for for centuries. You can't believe you didn't notice.

Your footsteps echo on the marble as you march right up to him and Azriel watches you closely the whole time, his amber eyes soft but his expression hinting at his nervousness. Gods, he's wonderful. You can't believe he gets to be yours and you get to be his.

"How long have you known?" You ask because it's the first thing on your mind. You're nearly panting from the exhilaration of your sudden exercise, from the dawning future that's blooming right in front of you. He's your mate. Gods, how could you have missed it?

Azriel smiles, that same tentative one that's been driving you crazy all week. His wings give a little shake behind him, a giveaway of his nerves.

"I... suspected from the beginning." He chooses his words carefully, wary of how you might respond.

You can't help your little gasp, feeling even more of a fool. You curse, ducking your head before you glare back up at him, no real heat in your gaze. You have the urge to give him a little shove, just for keeping you in the dark.

"And you didn't think to tell me?"

One of his shadows spins up unexpectedly, dancing across your shoulders and tickling your cheeks gently. You startle in surprise but something sweeter curls up in your chest at the tenderness of its touch.

"Believe me," Azriel says with a quiet chuckle, his amber eyes darting over your face intensely. "I've been trying."

You melt. Eyes locked with his, you move slowly, letting your arms drift up to drape around his neck like they've done every morning and evening since he began flying you around. You realise acutely that Cassian's behaviour, his shoddy flying, had likely been on purpose. You laugh a little, eyes creasing shut in pure euphoria.

Azriel's hands find your waist and you can feel the slight tremble in them.

"In my defense," You murmur, pushing up on your toes. You're close, so close, your lips hovering just an inch from a kiss—his shadows go wild around you both. It makes you grin. "I had never met a Shadowsinger before."

"Yeah?" Azriel breathes shakily. "Disappointed?"

He says it like a joke but you can hear the note of sincerity in his tone. His hidden worry that he isn't all you dreamed of. It's nearly laughable how wrong he is.

This close you can see his long lashes and every shade of brown in his eyes. You wonder if you'll ever get used to how beautiful he is. Part of you hopes you never do.

"Not in the slightest," You say, nearly a whisper.

Then his lips are on yours, pillowy soft skin against yours, and it feels like coming home. He kisses you, kisses you, kisses you til you're breathless and the glow in your chest could rival the sun in its warmth.

He kisses you and every atom in your body hums and fizzes and comes to life — and all you can do is hold him tight and kiss him back, just as fiercely.

Breaking the kiss to catch your breath, you pant and grin brazenly at Azriel, at your mate, happier than you've ever been. Faintly, you realise that you won't be heading home when the two months of your study are up after all.

Not when you have a man who looks at you so reverently, who kisses you like there's oxygen hidden in the plush of your lips, who holds you like there's nothing more precious in the world.

Not when you know that home is right here, in front of you.

[bigbuffjoonie]

I am floored. Wow. What a finale!! Now that’s what I call stranger danger lmao! I have never seen the show it was inspired from so I really had no idea what to expect! This was an amazing suspenseful journey. Thank you so much for your work! I loved reading it! 💖

Strangers (Chapter Ten)

Strangers from Hell AU

Series Masterlist

pairing: ot7 x reader

genre: yandere, horror/thriller

word count: 6.7k

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!): unreliable narrator, murder, mature themes, minor character death, obsessive/possessive behavior, emotional manipulation, stalking, bullying, violence against women, blood and injuries, mc has some self-deprecating thoughts, mc is lowkey in denial.

The day stretched on for what felt like hours but in reality was only about two before the sun had finally begun to set. The weather had been so weird, bright and sunny despite the dark clouds looming in the background. Something told you that the storm you sensed coming previously was finally about to arrive - just in time, too.

You had stared out the window of the hotel as Nayeon paced on the floor in front of the bed. She had been mumbling things here and there, reaching for her phone a few times before ultimately changing her mind. She didn’t like to be out of control of the situation, that much you could tell. You had never seen your best friend so stressed - not even during exam week - and you have to admit you didn’t like it. She had always been so sure of herself for as long as you had known her. If anything, this just emphasized the seriousness of the situation.

You’re sure you probably looked too blasé about the situation, a blank expression on your face as you rested your head on your knees. The truth was you just felt numb, having gone through so many emotions these past days already. This past month had taken a tremendous toll on you, the lack of sleep and stress finally catching up to you. You had no idea what the outcome would be after tonight but you found it hard to care. Jail almost sounded better than whatever awaited you both at the residence, but you weren’t exactly ready to go running to the police station right now anyway. Besides, you didn’t want to find out what Namjoon would do if you went against his wishes.

“Fuck it, I’m calling them.” Nayeon finally broke, picking her phone up off the bed and swiping at it.

Keep reading

[joelslastofus]

[SUMMARY: Joel catches you reading smut. ]

Smut, age difference

(Post outbreak)

“It’s nothin’ to be embarrassed about, darlin’” he stepped closer as you clutched your book tighter.

“I’m not embarrassed” you lied, of course you were. The man you had just been fantasizing about caught the very sexual things you were reading.”

When Tommy’s older brother had arrived, you didn’t know what to expect. Tommy was a close friend of your father’s who recently passed away, he promised you that he would do his part in keeping you safe and letting you stay with him. He had never really mentioned having a brother and so you were curious to see who this man was. You had only heard the rumors going around, Maria informed you they were privately having a drink together and catching up

“Is he nice?” You asked curiously as Maria helped you clean the kitchen.

“I’ve only heard things about him from Tommy, haven’t had a chance to be around him long enough to see what he’s like for myself.”

Just as she finished her sentence the doors opened with Tommy walking in first. Following behind was a man you figured to be his brother. The man had thick waves like Tommy, with hints of grey. He was handsome just like his brother but you could see a very big difference simply in the eyes.

“This is my older brother, Joel” Tommy introduced him to you . For the first time since he walked into the room his eyes locked with yours with a polite nod.

“Nice to meet you” you spoke softly.

He would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t find you attractive the second he laid eyes on you. But Joel could tell you were young and he had never even thought of being with someone around your age and so he ignored the attraction. Being with anyone was honestly the last thing on his mind.

“I’m gonna continue showin’ Joel around, introducing him to others” Tommy looked at both you and Maria before walking out. The second you turned to Maria she could already tell you liked him by the way you had been blushing.

“Oh no, honey. Joel is a no go”

“What?”

“I see that look in your eye and trust me that ain’t the way you wanna go”

“You don’t even know him, said so yourself!” You chuckled in disbelief by her response.

“Well, I’ve heard enough things to know that’s not what you want nor what you need.”

Joel cleared his throat turning back at the door he had just walked out of.

“Who’s-“ before he could finish, Tommy turned and stopped him right in his tracks.

“That’s a daughter of a close friend of mine. She’s only twenty two and just lost her dad…don’t -“

“I wasn’t thinkin’ about anything like that. Just a simple question’” Joel responded defensively.

“Besides, I ain’t the one who’s been known for hookin’ up with college girls” Tommy couldn’t help but laugh at Joel’s comment.

“Times have changed huh”

“Sure have” Joel uttered as Tommy continued on the tour of where he would be staying before leaving with him a few sweats and t shirts.

Later that night you found yourself having trouble to sleep and so you did as you usually would when trying to sleep.

Read a book.

It wasn’t just any book, a book filled with romance and erotic sex. Your guilty pleasure in things you’ve found over time and would hide away. When everyone was asleep you’d sit in the living room where it was cooler, by yourself on the couch lost in each chapter until that night you found yourself not alone.

The sound of a door opening causing you to quickly sit up from the comfortable position you were in to find Tommy’s brother Joel coming out of his room.

“Sorry, I thought no one was up”

“It’s fine, I was just gonna go to my room-“ you closed your book noticing he seemed a bit restless.

“Ya don’t gotta leave, it’s fine. I just-“ he seemed to get lost in what he wanted to say, not knowing where he was going.

“Adjusting to your first night here” you continued for him.

“I’m used to movin’ around, just hasn’t been this peaceful in a while” he explained. An awkward silence followed as you stood still before you sighed.

“Wanna have a drink with me?” Your unexpected offer making him furrow his brows.

“I don’t think-“

“I’m over twenty one. Not that it matters” you laughed.

“I don’t usually drink but one glass isn’t gonna hurt” you continued as you found your way to the bar. Placing your book down on the table you turned your back to him as you grabbed two glasses. Joel quietly followed, stopping at the table to take a look at the book you were reading. As you searched for the bottle of whiskey Joel curiously opened the book on the page you were on. His eyes quickly finding the vulgar words you read, realizing you were reading porn. A quick glance at a detailed sentence of a woman’s breasts bouncing in a man’s face making him clear his throat and quickly close the book.

“Found it” he looked up to find you bent over reaching for the bottle. Just as you turned to him he adjusted his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck as you began to pour.

“You sure you should be doin’ this” he leaned on the bar as you stood on the other side.

“What are you gonna do? Tell Tommy?” You teased followed with a laugh.

“I’m not a little girl, Joel. I’ve had plenty of drinks before” he stood silent as you looked at him. You seemed so innocent, too innocent to be reading about fucking. The sentence in the book crossing his mind again as you took a sip of your drink causing his eyes to slowly find their way to your breasts that were covered by a thin t shirt you wore. He wondered if you pictured yourself in these stories and that’s when he found himself wondering what your breasts looked like.

“Aren’t you gonna drink it?” Your voice making him quickly look up as he felt his cock begin to swell up. Without saying a word he quickly chugged down his drink and stood up, thankful that the bar was between the both of you leaving you unaware of the erection he had pushing against his sweats.

“You ok?” You asked.

“Mhm, goin’ ta bed” he quickly turned away walking back to his room as you stood a bit confused. Feeling as if you may have said something wrong or offended him in some way, you shrugged it off and went back to reading. Joel lay in bed knowing you were just outside probably still reading that fucking porn. The more he thought about it the more he wanted to burst. Trying to ignore it he turned over in bed trying to shut his eyes hoping his hard on would just go away but of course it didn’t. Cursing at himself he turned on his back staring at the ceiling. What would be the harm in jerking himself off to you just once? It’s not like you would know. Untying his sweats he pushed his pants down far to expose his cock. Spitting on his hand he began to stroke himself, closing his eyes thinking about you. Picturing you asking him to fuck you, picturing how your body must feel. Joel continued for some time, his imagination wandering as he began to breathe heavily feeling himself about to cum. His hand moving faster, his lips apart, a vein bulging out of his neck just as he came heavily all over his hand.

He moaned deeply pressing his lips together tightly looking down out of breath as his hand stroked his shaft once more. Throwing his head back he sighed, he wasn’t proud of himself but he fucking needed that.

The next morning you sat at the breakfast table talking with Maria, you hadn’t told her about seeing Joel in the middle of the night but you found yourself thinking about it.

You found yourself thinking about him.

Joel walked into the living room to find you at the table next to Maria, the two of you seemed very into whatever you were talking about.

“Well good morning” Maria greeted him as he stood by the table. You couldn’t help but notice he was dressed in a jacket ready to go out into the cold.

“Mornin’, where’s Tommy?”

“I’ll go get him so he can show you what’s in store for today” she smiled before leaving the room as you awkwardly sat across from him taking a sip from your mug. Looking to the side he cleared his throat before the sound of your voice caught his attention.

“How’d you sleep?”

“Good” he stared at you for a moment remembering what he had done last night. Remembering the images he had of you in his head and how it made him feel.

“Do you want coffee? Found some of the best” You asked softly.

“Sure” he watched as you stood up and turned around, his eyes dropping right to your ass. A part of him not understanding himself, he knew you were young, he never looked at a woman your age this way before. The silence was awkward, you could feel his eyes on you with your back to him.

“Shit-“ you dropped the cup on the floor breaking it into four large pieces. He quickly walked towards you, crouching to your level.

“It’s fine, I got it. Just clumsy sometimes” the two of you unexpectedly grabbing one piece together. His hand over yours, the touch of your skin intensifying his desire for you just as Tommy walked into the room with Maria. Quickly you both stood up looking away from one another as Tommy furrowed his brows.

“What happened here?”

“I dropped it by accident, sorry Tommy. I’ll pick it up” you grabbed a broom as Tommy shrugged.

“That’s alright. Joel-“ his eyes turned to his brother.

“There’s a few things I want to show you today, let’s get going” Joel nodded and followed his brother out of the room while Maria stood by the door squinting her eyes at you.

“Mmmhm”

You rolled your eyes at her playfully before she walked away leaving you alone.

That evening you helped make dinner with Maria as you usually would a few nights out of the week. Tommy and Joel sat talking together as you and Maria began to bring the food to the table. Joel’s eyes instantly turning between you and his brother with distraction before he quickly stood up to help you with the bowl of food.

“Oh thank you, Joel” you smiled as he set the food down.

“No, thank you, darlin’ this looks delicious”

Tommy and Maria looked at each other for a moment before you and Joel noticed the silence.

“Ain’t you a gentleman” Tommy chuckled as you sat down across Joel. Tommy went on to tell Maria the day he had with his brother not noticing the way his brother was staring at you, not noticing the way you looked at him. You smiled at him making him quickly look down at his food and clear his throat.

“And how was your day?” Tommy asked distracting you.

“Um, it was good. Helped make dinner and read my book” Joel’s eyes fought to not look up at you. Probably was that damn book you had been reading the night before.

“Yeah, Joel. This one over here loves to read, she’s real smart” Joel slid his tongue in his inner cheek as he adjusted himself in his seat.

“Oh yeah?” He looked directly at you as he took a sip of his water. You could tell by the way he looked at you he was thinking something, yet you couldn’t tell what. Had you known that he read the dirty things you were reading you would’ve understood the look he was giving you.

After dinner Joel and Tommy cleaned up as they continued expressing how satisfied they were with dinner. It had been a while since Joel had a dinner like that, he quickly learned how better Tommy had been living than he had.

“Where are you two going?” You asked as Maria whispered something to Tommy walking towards the exit.

“We had a little something planned tonight, the sight of the stars are beautiful close by, we wanted some time together to enjoy them” you smiled as Tommy excitedly expressed what he had planned.

“Well, enjoy your evening. I’m gonna go finish reading-“ you then turned to Joel.

“If you need anything and you can’t find them, you know where to find me” you smiled as he nodded.

“Thank you, darlin’. Have a good night” you walked to your room and shut the door excited to read your next chapter.

As you began reading your book, the author began to describe a sexual encounter with an older man and younger woman. You couldn’t help but think how much the man she described made you think of Joel. Joel was a good looking man and so it was pretty easy to picture him with what you read. You surprised yourself finding yourself getting turned on by Joel with these images in your mind. The story only getting more steamy making you begin to squirm and get hot that you suddenly lay the book flat on your chest.

What the hell were you doing to yourself?

Getting horny at the thought of Tommy’s older brother? You shook your head and stood up needing a glass of water.

Holding your book tight to your chest you walked out to unexpectedly find Joel sitting on the couch.

“I thought you were in your room” you pressed your lips together awkwardly as if you weren’t just picturing this man naked on top of you.

“In a bit. You alright?” He asked noticing how flushed you became.

“Yeah, just needed some water” you nervously placed your book down on the table and walked past him quickly to the counter. He couldn’t help but look at the book you left a few feet away from him. Distracted with chugging your water you hadn’t noticed Joel stood up curious to take another look at your book. Silently looking up at you to make sure you wouldn’t catch him, he quickly turned the book over. His eyebrows furrowed as he focused on the story realizing it was about a forbidden sexual encounter, an older man and younger woman. A man not being able to resist but feed his urge with the young woman. Joel took a deep breath continuing to read it when your voice made him quickly look up.

“What are you doing?” You asked slightly embarrassed knowing exactly what was in that book.

“Nothin’ I-“you cut him off quickly taking hold of your book holding it close to your chest. He could tell you were embarrassed.

“What? What’s wrong with reading romance?” You attempted to save yourself.

“Is that what you call it?” He asked with a slight smirk watching your cheeks turn a darker shade of red.

“It’s nothin’ to be embarrassed about, darlin’” he stepped closer as you clutched your book tighter.

“I’m not embarrassed” you lied, of course you were. The man you had just been fantasizing about caught the very sexual things you were reading.

“I should get to bed. Goodnight” you awkwardly moved pasted him until he reached out and caught you by your arm with his fingers. He didn’t say a word but the touch of him stopped you in your tracks. In this very moment he knew he was giving into the temptation he had been so strongly feeling.

“Why don’t you tell me what happens next, honey’” you froze feeling him move so close behind you. Quickly you turned to find him inches away, his eyes hungry with desire just as he reached over and gently took the book from your hands. It was as if you couldn’t speak, his energy wasso intimidating…

Turning the page Joel read a sentence in silence as he slid his tongue over his bottom lip.

“He couldn’t resist any longer, the urge to feel himself inside her he could no longer control-“ you felt a tingly sensation between your legs hearing his raspy voice read an erotic sentence. Joel looked up to see you flushed, breathing quickly, your lips apart. He smirked closing the book as he took a step closer but before he could say anything the sound of Tommy entering the room made you jump and instantly snap out of any trance you were in.

“What are you guys doing?” He asked curiously as he walked by the bar.

“Nothing I-I forgot my book out here and he was just returning it to me” you quickly grabbed your book and took a step back.

“Well I forgot to bring a nice bottle of whiskey for Maria and I so here I am” he chuckled reaching below for a bottle as you and Joel locked eyes.

“I’m gonna get to bed, goodnight guys” you hesitantly took a step back as Joel watched you slowly walk away before Tommy cleared his throat.

“Well, got what I needed, I’ll be back later” Tommy grinned before walking out leaving Joel alone with his thoughts.

Leaning your back against the door you felt your heart racing. A part of you wishing Tommy hadn’t returned feeling a moment was ruined until you heard a knock on your door.

Slowly opening it you looked up to see Joel with the same look he had just moments ago.

“Ya didn’t have to leave”

“I um-“ you began to take a step back stumbling over your own words.

“I had to because-“

“Because what?” He asked as he took a step forward.

“Because Tommy and-“

“You scared of my brother?” He tilted his head, a slight smirk appearing on his lips.

“No” you responded defensively.

“Ya want me to leave?”

“No” a faint whisper escaping your lips as he took another step inside your room closing the door behind him. Slowly taking the book from your grasp and putting it aside, his eyes never leaving yours he closed the distance between you.

“Joel-“

“Shh” he whispered softly as he leaned in and kissed you gently with his arm wrapping around your waist. Your hands falling on his chest slowly brushing up his shoulders as he began to lead you to where you slept. Joel kissed you eagerly, his hands squeezing every part of you until you felt him reach between your bodies and unbutton your pants.

“I don’t think we should..” you whispered.

“I won’t” he responded leaving you with confusion. But you didn’t say a word as you lay back on the bed and watched him pull your pants off. His eyes instantly becoming distracted with your soaked underwear sticking against your lips. Standing between your legs he swallowed silently before he began to unbutton his pants- something you were expecting but became more hesitant for. Reality setting in knowing this was something you definitely should not have been doing. What if Tommy returned looking for him? Or looking for you?

“Joel..” you whispered, he pushed his pants and underwear down as his cock sprung out.

“I just wanna feel you-“ he whispered, one hand closing around his shaft while the other hand unexpectedly pulled you to the edge of the bed.

“I-“

“I ain’t gonna put it in, I’m just-“ he spoke in a trance as he began sliding himself up against your drenched panties. You could feel how big he was, how hard he was. He watched as your body began to squirm with excitement, your moans pushing him to push himself against you faster. The feel of your pussy lips against his cock making him sweat. His hands tightening on your waist as he watched your arch your back and closed your eyes. Joel wanted to feel more, his cock pulsating as he pulled your panty aside and let his bare cock slide up against your warmth.

“Oh-“ your eyes opened. His breathing was heavy, his brows furrowed as he focused on his cock sliding against your cunt. He continued to tease you in a way you had never been teased. In that moment you wanted to feel him inside you, Joel fought himself with every ounce of strength he had. Hearing you whimper and dig your nails into the covers beside you only making it harder for him.

“I know baby, I know-“ he cried out as he moved faster before unexpectedly slipping inside you. You gasped as he pressed his lips together with a groan at the first feel of being inside you. Neither of you saying a word as he locked eyes with you and continued to fuck you, neither of you caring about anyone else or anything in that moment. Taking in the deep feel of pleasure together as one.

“This what you like to read about huh?” He panted as his finger tips pressed into your thighs.

“You’re one naughty- naughty girl” he bit into his bottom lip moving faster as your moans grew louder. Holding onto the bed you could feel it move with each thrust he made. Grabbing onto your own breasts as a burst of pleasure exploded within you, you screamed out in relief. Watching you cum as you touched yourself made Joel tense up. Holding himself as long as he could, quickly he pulled out just as his cum spilled out of him. Cumming on top of your underwear his knees almost giving out as his hips jerked once more uncontrollably.

“Oh my god-“ you panted as he leaned over you as cum continued to spill from him.

“Shit” he whispered knowing damn well what he had just done. Breaking his brothers trust was something he never liked to do, fucking a woman your age was something he never thought he would do. He silently turned away fixing his clothes as you awkwardly cleaned yourself up.

“Tommy is to know nothin’ about this”

“I know” you quickly buttoned your pants.

“Look, I mean it honey-“ he turned to you.

“Ya don’t look at me or talk to me in any kinda way in front of my brother”

“Ok” you spoke softly, the look in your eyes making him feel slight guilt.

“I’m sorry I just-“

“I know. I don’t wanna upset Tommy either…he’s been great to me” you whispered.

“Look, we are two adults. We don’t have to speak of this again” you continued.

Joel silently nodded unsure of what to say yet wanting to say more. But before he allowed himself to, he simply walked out of the room.

Tags (some tags didn’t work so I’m sorry if you don’t see yourself on the list!! Not sure how to fix that)

@l0veang3l @moonpascal @katmoonz @joelsteinfeld @picketniffler @stcrrjoon @itsamandi @starry-eyes-love @theoraekenslover @psychoenergy @joeldjarin @bambisweethearts @baronessvonglitter @mangoslushcrush @guelyury @mynameistokyo @katiemarieeee

[amiableness]

Peonies ; part four

Pairing: Theo Nott x Fem!Reader

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

Word Count: 4772

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

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

SERIES MASTERLIST <3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I couldn’t do it.”

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

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

“Just..?” Pansy prompts gently.

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

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

Not in the way you wanted, at least.

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

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

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

And that was absolutely terrifying.

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

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

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

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

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mattheo’s curiosity sharpens. “Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not fucking messing with her—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.” You confirm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ktownshizzle]

Terms & Conditions | Chapter 1

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

Summary: Managing Min Yoongi as one of your encoders during his alternative military service should’ve been simple. He is quiet, punctual—and can apparently type as fast as he can rap! Not to mention the fact that he is easy on the eyes and keeps wanting to help you. You’ve signed an iron-clad NDA, detailing the full terms and conditions of his temporary employment, so you’re supposed to keep things professional, but what happens if neither of you wants to?

Genre: Fluff, eventual smut, co-workers to lovers, office romance, idol!au

Warnings: Purely speculative regarding Yoongi’s alternative military service and how this is really done in SK, I might include scootergate in a future chapter but please know it will be written sensibly imo and with so much love for our Yoongi (I just wanna protecc him at all costs even thru this silly story!), some cursing, boss/employee relationship sorta but there's no power play involved, reader and Yoongi are within the same age range, tbh nothing too bad in this chapter

Word count: 6.3k hehe (approx. 25 mins to read)

Posting date: October 9, 2024

Notes: So it’s my birthday, y'all. 🎂 Hope you enjoy this little treat! 🎈And let me know if anyone wants to be tagged for future chapters. Just leave a comment. Formatting this better soon, really just wanted to get this out!

Your first meeting with Min Yoongi goes exactly as you expected: awkward as hell.

The day kicked off with some solid foreshadowing. 

On the subway, you somehow managed to sit directly on someone’s hand, giving yourself a completely unsolicited grope for breakfast. Awkward. 

Then you hit your usual café, chatting with your mom on the phone while waiting for your drink. Just as the barista handed over your order, you wrapped up the call with a bright and cheery “love you!”—only to realize too late that the barista thought it was meant for him. Awkward.

Things only got weirder from there. As you checked your emails on your phone, you walked straight into a pole, and you made eye contact with a cat who just looked at you, tail swaying, like it was somehow pleased with your suffering.

So naturally, you hoped that your first day with Min Yoongi wouldn’t follow the same cursed trend. But, of course, you weren’t that lucky.

You can feel the office buzzing with excitement as you step in, but you’ve all been told to keep it low-key. Nobody is allowed to make a big deal about him, but in some ways, that just makes it an even bigger deal. You’ve refrained from searching his name on Naver. It’s enough that you know him as 1/7 of South Korea’s biggest boyband. You don’t need to stalk him because that’s just gonna make this weird.

Speaking of weird, the female security guard gives you a wink as you clock in, and you return with a simple nod back, because honestly you’re tired of being treated like you wanted this. Like you asked for this “opportunity”. Some of the girls have called you the "blessed one" to have been chosen to work alongside him in your small, shoebox office. Truthfully, you don’t really care as long as he gets the job done.

But you're feeling scared for many reasons you can’t quite express, the pressure mostly coming from the fact that every fucking person in this office is so motherfuckin’ wet for this dude. Is he even that hot? Nobody is that hot for real. Unless it’s Cha Eun Woo (you just picked up the new Vogue issue and ooof)–now that is a different story.

Your throat is dry as hell, and your stomach is in knots. There’s no time to freak out though as you just received a ping that he’s on his way. 

You clear your throat, adjust your stance, and try to appear composed and professional, despite the fact that your insides are churning. You spot your tiny plastic garbage can on the corner of the room, in case you need to hurl, but the garbage lady forgot to line it again for fuck’s sake.

You pull your knit sweater down to cover the tiny belt that holds your linen pants, the only thing holding something together in this room, ‘cos you are actually spiraling–kind of?

Fuck he’s here.

The doors to your office open, making the little wind chime you hung there tinkle, and you spot the top of his head from behind the pudgy middle-aged guy that walks in front of him—your boss. Two men flank him, one of them you know as someone from his company, because he was the one doling out NDAs the other day like how they do beef jerky samples in the supermarket. The other, more buff guy, his bodyguard, most likely. Until you know their real names, you’ll call them Beef Jerky and Beefy.

Okay, focus.

Min Yoongi finally steps into your line of vision. 

Dressed in his military uniform, he was quiet, unassuming, expression unreadable. His eyes were pretty sharp, a bit intimidating, like he was thinking about something more important than whatever this is. His hair was a bit messy in the front, but somehow it worked for him. He wasn’t huge or anything, just lean and kinda laid-back, with this easy posture that made it seem like he didn’t really care who was looking. Honestly, nothing too special. 

But then, there was his aura, something you couldn’t quite ignore. It wasn’t flashy or loud, but there was this energy about him, like the room shifted just a little when he walked in. He didn’t have to say a damn thing, yet somehow, you found yourself aware of him. It wasn’t just his looks. It was the way he carried himself, calm and confident, like he didn’t need to prove anything. Must be nice to be rich and powerful…

“Miss?” Beef Jerky leans to his side to get into your sightline.

Shit, what did he say? Anyway, you shake your head, and proceed to just introduce yourself.

“Hello, I’m the manager,” you bow, perhaps too stiffly. “I’ll be overseeing your work during your service here.”

He bows politely, too, eyes briefly meeting yours before looking away. “I’m Min Yoongi, pleasure to meet you,” he says in a tone that feels blunt, almost rehearsed.

Your boss Hyun-woo, who you recently found out is his distant uncle, stands beside him, clapping his shoulder. “You are in good hands here, Yoongi. She’s my best, most trusted employee in this entire office.”

You blush at the compliment, feeling a wave of self-consciousness as you struggle to make the interaction less awkward. You close your fists willing yourself to get a fuckin’ grip.

“I will leave you both to get acquainted.”

Your boss along with the two individuals leave the room. The door closes with a soft click.

Annoyingly, something is stuck in your throat and you clear it with a quick sip from this comically huge-sized tumbler your roommate got for you when you had a pesky bout of UTI last year.

“I’ve, uh, prepared your tasks for today.” You gesture to his desk, quickly pulling up the list of assignments on your tablet. You show him his username and password scribbled on a post-it by the monitor. He picks it up and inspects it. You spend time explaining the basics of the work here. Word processing. Nothing to it really. It’s about efficiency, accuracy, and confidentiality, because of the many private government records that you handle day to day.

“Do you have any questions?”

Crickets.

The office feels larger now, the silence between you echoing awkwardly. “Ooo-kay. If you don’t have any questions, that’s fine. But don’t hesitate to ask if there’s anything I can help you with,” you add, hoping to sound approachable but instead sounding robotic, like an email sign off. You wince inwardly.

He just nods again, offering nothing more. He sits and picks up the paper on the top of the file. You guess that’s your cue to leave. And by leave, you mean round his table so you can sit on yours, the one across from him.

You walk back with this weird stutter in your chest. For a moment, you wonder if he finds you too formal. It’s not like you’re trying to be intimidating, but professionalism has been your go-to ever since the promotion. And it’s not like you need to wow him with your personality, so you can become fast friends. If the NDA you signed was to be taken to heart, it would be better to not establish any form of relationship with him outside of team lead and team member, what with the exorbitant number of potential violations and potential fines for breaking it.

When his keyboard starts clickety-clacking, dread sinks in your stomach that it’s going to be like this every day—strictly business, no small talk, no casual exchanges. You’re not the most sociable person, but once in a while, you do appreciate a bit of interaction. You sigh internally, returning to your own tasks, trying not to overthink the situation anymore. For now, at least.

Throughout the morning, you cannot help but steal glances at him. Damn, what skin care does he use? He literally looks radiant, like he’s glowing from within. Fuck, you have to look away because this is precisely why they trusted you to take him under your wing. You are a consummate professional, not a creep like the girls from accounting, especially trampy Danbi. You chalk it to unfamiliarity and curiosity, which you know you will quickly overcome. But for now you cut yourself some slack. Obviously, there was a legit celebrity in the room, and he seems to radiate some undeniable aura. It also feels strange to have someone else in this tiny office that you’ve occupied alone for so long.

Honestly, you’re still baffled as to why he was assigned to you, specifically. Well, that’s not entirely true. You know it’s because Hyun-woo has blind trust in you, having seen you as one of his go-to employees. Truth be told, you think he treats you like a niece. Is that weird? Maybe. He lets you assist some of the other artists who’ve come through for personal or one-time projects and you have always delivered for him, never engaging in any office gossip.

But still, you can’t shake the feeling of frustration. Why did this have to happen to you? You just got your promotion and were so excited to mentor someone, to be that “cool boss” you always envisioned. But now you’re stuck with this temp—who’s really not a temp but a world-renowned idol. It’s all so awkward.

Once in a while you catch him yawning, so in a desperate bid to cut through the tension, you ask, “Um, do you like coffee?”

He shifts to sit straighter. “Nah, I’m good. Thank you.” he responds, quickly looking your way and training his eyes back to the screen, hands typing away.

You nod, feeling slightly deflated. “Right. Got it.” 

The day drags on, and you can’t shake off the feeling of being an over-eager manager trying too hard. 

Within the first week, you discover very quickly that Yoongi is all about business. He is just here to finish his service as discreetly as possible. He clocks in on time, disappears for an hour for breaks, and clocks out on time as well. You don’t know where he disappears during those breaks, but you suspect in Hyun-woo’s office to get more privacy. He barely speaks to you. He greets you with a small bow in the morning and responds with a grunt or a hum. It’s all very… whatever. It is what it is, so you stop trying to be anything but his boring manager. You hand him his tasks every morning, check his output by EOD, like clockwork.

Unfortunately, it was one of those manic Mondays. The pile of documents grows faster than you can manage. Calls keep coming in, requests needing immediate attention, and your desk looks like the utter chaos that is the inside of your brain. You glance at Yoongi across from you—he’s focused, calm, completely unfazed by the sudden rush.

“Do you need help with that?” His voice startles you, low and soft. You honestly even forgot how it sounded, having little to no interaction everyday.

Before you can respond, he’s already pulling the spare chair from the corner and is at your side, sorting through the forms. His hands move with unexpected speed, and soon, the paperwork starts shrinking. You offer a weak smile, trying to appear professional. “Thanks. I wasn’t expecting today to be so hectic.”

He only nods in response, his focus entirely on the task at hand. You glance at him, noticing for the first time how sharp his features are up close—dark eyes, cute pointy nose, and freckles dusting some parts of his cheeks. His tongue, pink and moist, peeks out from the side of his lips as he concentrates. Ok, you need to look away RIGHT NOW.

You’re aware of the attraction most women probably feel for someone like him. Exhibit A—Danbi, who cornered you that morning in the toilet “for the scoop” and you’re sick of her. But if you’ll be honest, it’s hard not to notice that Yoongi indeed has a… pleasant face. But you are a professional. Yes, you are. This whole mysterious, brooding vibe is not going to get to you attracted to him in any way, shape, or form. You’re his manager. You signed those NDAs. Never mind that his lips are just the perfect shape, pouty, plush… and smirking.

Shit. He’s smirking because you’re caught.

You look away hastily and start opening some random file in your computer and pretend to be immersed reading it. In truth, you need some air, but it would be too damn obvious if you stepped away.

A few minutes pass in silence. You’ve quelled the initial onslaught of hormones and are back to work mode. You’re happy that he is so efficient and you smile as you get through the initial bulk of paperwork. You’re starting to relax, getting into the familiar groove of getting a file and processing it, until your fingers accidentally brush against his while reaching for the same folder. The touch is brief, but it sends a jolt through you, your heart stuttering in response. You glance up, half-expecting another awkward moment (because you can’t stop feeling like such a fool in front of him), but Yoongi remains composed, as he pulls his hand away and waits for you to take the document.

You do, but your pulse quickens. Just an accident, you tell yourself. He probably didn’t even notice. And if he did, he probably doesn’t care.

But now, as you continue working side by side, there’s an unspoken understanding. You realize, despite his quiet demeanor, he’s someone you can rely on, someone who won’t leave you stranded when things get tough. And that’s actually really nice. It’s what you wanted when Hyun-woo said you were going to have a team. Granted it’s just the two of you for now, but still, it’s nice to have a partner.

Later in the week, you find yourself in the break room, needing a coffee fix. There was a place down the street with cheap and good coffee, but unfortunately you didn’t have the time to pop in with so much work on your desk. So free and awful coffee it is today. 

You enter just in time to see Yoongi struggling with the coffee machine. You have never seen him anywhere else in the building apart from your office, so this was quite a surprise. 

“Need a hand?” you ask tentatively, stepping closer.

“I think I broke it,” he replies, hearing exasperation in his voice for the very first time. 

“Hang on, let me,” you unplug and plug the machine, fiddle with some of the buttons, waiting for it to sputter to life. 

You’re leaning against the counter, waiting for the coffee machine to wake up. You know it takes forever, but it’s too familiar at this point. Yoongi stands next to you, his usual quiet self, hands in his pockets. 

“I’ve timed it,” you say dryly, glancing at him. “Two minutes and forty seconds.”

He watches the machine as if expecting it to hurry up. “Been here for more than that.”

You smirk. “Maybe it’s on a break.”

He quirks an eyebrow, barely suppressing a smile. “I’ll try that excuse next time.”

You hand Yoongi his coffee, mumbles a thanks, and waits for you to finish yours before both of you settle into the break room’s small table. It’s past lunch, and you know neither of you have eaten, so you reach for the cold ham and cheese sandwiches stashed in the fridge. “Hope you don’t mind,” you say, sliding one across to him.

He looks at it for a moment before picking it up. “I’ve had worse.”

“High praise.”

He takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Could be worse. Could be that coffee.”

You raise your cup in mock agreement. “Fair point. Don’t even know why I drink this shit. I mean this thing.” You slap a hand over your mouth. Did you just curse in front of your subordinate? Government offices are a stickler for these things, being on the traditional side.

He chuckles at your shocked expression, and teases, “Isn’t that a code of conduct violation?”

You gnaw at your lip, suppressing the smile that wants to stretch out, but you fail. “It is. But you’re no snitch.”

He motions to zip his lips and throws an imaginary key over his shoulder. Dork.

The conversation lingers in that easy rhythm. You talk about the workload, the other departments, nothing too personal. You glance over at him, noticing how more at ease he seems, as if he’s getting used to being here—around you.

“How long have you worked here?” he leans back, stretching his arm out on the back of the chair beside him.

“Five years,” you respond, tapping the side of your lip with a napkin.

“Do you ever get tired of it?” he asks suddenly.

You blink, slightly taken aback by how blunt he is. You clarify, on guard, “Tired of what exactly?”

He gestures around. “The office. The routine.” He keeps his eyes trained on you, which is a rarity as he always seems to be looking at you but never directly like that. That’s when you knew his question was sincere. That he wasn’t trying to offend you, just trying to get to know you.

You shrug. “Sometimes. But it’s not that bad. Besides,” you smile wryly, “now I have someone to talk shit about this coffee and sandwich with.”

He chuckles, light and throaty, a sound that you realize is tickling something in your brain. “Guess we’re in this shit together now.”

You nod, feeling something warm settle in your chest. The wall between you is thinner now, not entirely gone but close enough to see past.

“Same time tomorrow?” you ask, half-joking, half-hopeful.

He raises an eyebrow, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “I have two years here. Hope the coffee machine doesn’t beat me to my discharge date.”

Two years. The thought makes you smile. You really don't mind spending that amount of time with him. In fact, it kinda made you a little happy.

As you step into your cozy apartment, the familiar scent of home hits you. Your roommate’s been cooking again, so it also smells like galbi jjim. Yummm.

Your place isn’t much—a small two-bedroom in Yongsan you’ve shared with Chae since Uni—but it’s got character. You both moved in when it was bare and bland, but with a little effort and a lot of creativity, you’ve turned it into something that actually feels like home. The furniture is mostly Scandi-style—clean lines, muted tones, and a lot of beige—but you’ve sprinkled in your own touches everywhere.

There’s that round white table you scored second hand, now always topped with whatever flowers Chae picks up from the market, and the rattan pendant light that casts this soft, cozy glow at night. The tiny kitchen still feels big enough when it’s just the two of you, with mismatched mugs stacked up and a bright orange pan hanging on the wall for no real reason other than it looks cool.

In the living room, a hybrid shelf is stuffed with books, vinyls, and random trinkets from all the places you’ve been. A Chinese lucky cat sculpture from that street market trip. A polaroid of you two drunk at noraebang, one of many others tucked under the glass coffee table. Trendy prints hang on the walls—well, some lean against the walls, because you’ve never gotten around to actually hanging them. It’s perfectly imperfect. It’s not much, but it’s home.

You hang your bag on the rack by the door and head to the kitchen, where Chae is stirring a pot, hips swaying to the music blaring from her phone. Of course, as she holds a silver spoon, she belts out the lyrics from the BTS song with the same title. And you only know this because she has made you watch some edits to this song that left an impression on you.

The thought of revealing this thing you’ve been holding out on her has your stomach in knots. But again, there’s an NDA involved, and you don’t want to violate anything. But just the same, you’re desperate to talk to someone about this strange new development in your life. You just hope you don’t regret risking your job by telling her.

“Hey, Chae!” you call out, and she turns, beaming at you. “How was work?”

“Busy as usual,” you reply, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. “But I have something to tell you.”

Her eyes sparkle with curiosity. “Ooh, do tell!”

You hesitate, but excitement spills out. “I have a new workmate. And you know him.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s one of my exes.”

“No, no.” You take a quick swig of water and twist its cover back in place.

“From Uni?”

You shake your head, water still swirling inside your mouth.

“Is it one of my weird cousins?”

You gulp. “What? No! Also we haven’t talked about why you gave one of them my number. He’s blowing up my Kakao.”

She cackles unapologetically, “Sorry, I need to get them off my back. So, are you going to tell me who this mysterious person is?”

You breathe out a sigh. “Min Yoongi from BTS.”

It’s like a bomb explodes in your roommate’s brain. She drops the spoon, and you wince at the clatter. “What?! No!”

“Yeah…”

“Don’t you even joke right now.”

“I’m not!”

“Are you serious???”

You nod, half-amused by her reaction. “Yeah, he’s assigned to my department for his service.”

“Min Yoongi?” she repeats, eyes wide, almost breathless. “You… I… Do you know how famous he is? He’s like a fuckin’ national treasure! He has a diplomatic passport and everything, keys to the White House… ”

You chuckle at her enthusiasm, but you can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement. “I mean, I guess? But I signed an NDA. I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

She pulls you to her room, and you follow, rolling your eyes. Her space is a shrine to Bangtan, shelves lined with albums, posters, and even plushies. You’ve never given her shit for it, because you also had an EXO phase, but you got rid of most of your stuff through ebay when you needed some extra money.

“Wait, you have to understand him!” she exclaims, rifling through her collection. “You need to learn about his music, his artistry. He’s incredible!”

“Honestly, he has an above average WPM, that’s all I need to know.”

“WPM?” she asks.

“Words per minute. He’s an encoder.”

She gives you a WTF look, then shoves her photocard album in your arms. 

“Open that,” she tells you before she flops on her bed with a wistful look. “What's he like? You have to tell me. I need to live vicariously through you.”

You can’t help but laugh at her excitement, flopping down on the bed next to her. “Well, he’s a quick study, very efficient, and also very reserved.”

“…and very hot?” she asks, winking.

“Chaeee!” you groan, burying your face on one of her plushies, the brown one. “I mean, he’s not… bad-looking.”

“Not bad-looking? Girl?! He is sexy as fuck!” she grabs the plush off of your face and you try to school your face to seriousness, but fail.

“I dunno. It’s just work.”

“Just work?!” she echoes again, eyes sparkling. “You’re working with a literal genius! Do you know how many girls would kill for this opportunity?”

Don’t you know it? Danbi and her crew are still up on your face everyday trying to get any morsel of information you’d be willing to throw their way. You sigh, but smile at her enthusiasm. “Alright, I’ll tell you more. But just remember: NDA.”

When your roommate seems satiated, she leaves you a trail of crumbs that unknowingly leads you to a rabbit hole. Two words, she said mysteriously, before you disappear into your room. “Agust D.”

That night, curiosity gets the better of you. You grab your laptop and fall down said rabbit hole, watching every Agust D music video, concert clip, and interview you can find. With each passing moment, you become more entranced, not just by the music, but by the man behind it. The raw passion in his lyrics, the confidence in his delivery—it really is quite… in Chae’s words: sexy af.

As the weeks progress, you have graduated from robotic nods to actual smiles. The greetings feel more familiar now, almost like you're becoming friends. 

You walk into the office, a small smile creeping onto your face as you see Yoongi already at his desk. He looks up and meets your gaze, returning the smile with a scratchy hello. The atmosphere feels lighter today, a far cry from your first awkward encounter.

“Ready for another exciting day of paperwork?” you tease, taking your seat.

“Dope,” he replies dryly, but there’s a playful glint in his eye.

Moments later, Yoongi’s head pops from the side of his monitor so that he’s in your view. “Uh, I have a bit of a problem with this file,” he says, brows furrowed with a hint of frustration in his tone.

You immediately jump into action, eager to help. “Let me take a look.”

As you move closer to his desk, you can’t help but notice the way his fingers move over the keyboard, veiny and strong. Images of him playing “Seesaw” on the guitar flood your mind. How can you unsee that?

You shake your head, trying to refocus. “Okay, let’s see…” But your brain keeps drifting, and you find yourself more distracted than ever. His mouth, and his deep voice, as he mumbles his troubles with the document, keeps pulling your attention. You try to push the thoughts away, frustration mounting.

“Is this the line you were talking about?” you ask, forcing yourself to concentrate on the screen.

“Yeah, that’s the one. I just can’t seem to make sense of it,” he replies, glancing at you.

“Let me just…” You lean closer, your heart racing as his shoulder brushes against yours. You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

How can you focus on work when all you can think about is this thing he does with his tongue. It feels impossible.

Yoongi watches you, an amused smile playing on his lips. “You look like you’re trying to solve a complex equation.”

“Honestly, I’m starting to think my brain is broken.”

Yoongi glances at you with a smirk. “If your brain is broken, then mine’s completely fried. I tried to make toast this morning and almost burnt my apartment down.”

You laugh. “Maybe you should stick to Uber eats.”

“Agreed. It’s safer for everyone involved,” he quips, his eyes sparkling with amusement, before it turns into something slightly more serious. “Not that there’s anyone else, umm, involved. I, uh, live alone, so…”

His comment makes you smile, and you can’t help but feel a rush of warmth at the way he stuttered the last bit out. You don’t know what to make of it, so you just left it at that. 

About to clock out, Yoongi stands from his desk, bag over his shoulder.

“You know, despite my toast incident, I’m actually a pretty great cook. That toast was a fluke,” he declares, his tone half-serious, like it has been bothering him for quite some time.

The way he looks worried that you may think he is terrible in the kitchen, is not lost on you. You raise an eyebrow, “Is that so?”

He shifts the bag on his shoulder, narrowing his eyes at you. “You don’t believe me.”

“Give me a taste then,” you say, biting your lip. You made it sound really suggestive, but you can’t take it back now. Not when he seems to get it, and he seems kind of into it.

He leans with a playful glint in his eyes, “Alright. I’ll bring kimchi jeon, but you also have to give me a taste.” he pauses, pushing his tongue on the inside of his cheek, before continuing. “Of your…”

“Pasta.” You say, cheeks warm, but voice steady. “Friday?”

He smirks, then he’s out the door.

You bury your face on your palms, smiling like a fool as your heart beats loudly in your chest. What the actual hell is happening?

It’s Friday afternoon, and the office is quieter than usual—most of the staff are already winding down, eager for the weekend. You glance at the clock, knowing it’s almost time for the little food showdown you’ve been looking forward to all week.

You and Yoongi walk together to the break room, both armed with your dishes. His kimchi jeon and your pasta. 

You warm your containers in the microwave before you settle down on a corner spot.

“I hope you’re ready to lose,” you tease, sliding the container of Carbonara across the table. Yoongi raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair with that infuriatingly calm smirk.

“You seem confident,” he replies, popping open the lid of his dish. The scent of kimchi fills the room, and you have to admit—it smells incredible.

“Smells good,” you say, trying not to let your surprise show.

“Of course it does. I told you I could cook.” He clips a piece of the jeon with his chopsticks and holds it out to you. “Try it.”

You lean forward, the chopsticks brushing against your lips as you take a bite. The flavors hit you immediately—spicy, savory, just the way you like it. You chew slowly, pretending to think it over even though you’re already sold.

“Not bad,” you admit, leaning back with a grin. “But it’s gonna take more than that to beat my pasta.”

Yoongi scoffs, but there’s amusement in his eyes as he picks up a fork and twirls it into your pasta. He takes a bite, and you watch him carefully, waiting for his reaction.

He chews, then pauses, glancing up at you through his lashes. “Alright… I have to admit,” he says, his tone casual but the look in his eyes a little too serious, “this is really good.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “That’s it? Just ‘really good?’”

He leans forward on his elbows, his gaze steady on yours. “Fine. It’s amazing,” he says, his voice softening just a bit, though there’s a teasing smile on his lips. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, it’s already there,” you quip, biting back a smile. 

Yoongi laughs, a sound that’s more relaxed than usual, and you catch the way his eyes linger on you just a little longer than necessary. “You know what? I’ll give you this one,” he concedes, sitting back with a defeated sigh, though the smile never leaves his face. “You win.”

You hoot, then immediately cover your mouth with your hands, remembering you are in your place of business.

He grins as he takes another bite of your Carbonara, forking pieces of bacon straight to his mouth. There’s something different in the way he’s looking at you now—something softer, like he’s seeing you in a way he hasn’t before. You are thrown for a loop. Maybe it’s the way he keeps sneaking glances at you between bites, or the quiet hum of satisfaction when he takes another forkful of your dish. Whatever it is, you want it and you like it.

You push your chair back, stretching your arms above your head as the day finally comes to a close. It’s been a long one, but productive—and surprisingly enjoyable. After sharing lunch with Yoongi earlier, things felt lighter, less awkward. Still, when you glance at the window, seeing the sheets of rain coming down hard, your shoulders sag slightly. It’s pouring, and you didn’t bring an umbrella.

As you slip on your parka after snapping the detachable hoodie on, Yoongi catches your eye, “You’re not planning to walk in this, are you?”

“I can take the subway,” you say quickly.

Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head as he shows you his keys. “Just let me give you a ride, it’s not a problem.”

You hesitate, but eventually, you sigh. “Okay, sure. Thanks.”

The two of you dash out into the rain, laughing softly as you both get soaked within seconds. By the time you’re in his car, your hair sticks to your forehead, and the chill of your wet clothes clings to your skin.

But you’re glad that you’re finally inside. He blasts the heater and the warmth is immediate, fogging the windows as the downpour intensifies. He fiddles with the stereo as you settle in, and Epik High’s "Born Hater" comes through his car speakers.

“Born hater!” You announce, and you catch yourself, embarrassed at the way you had to say the title of the song so emphatically.

“Cute,” Yoongi mumbles as he looks at you like he is actually endeared and you think you would catch fire despite being soaked.

“Ok hater, what’s one thing you hate?” He asks as he puts the gear on reverse.

The question is sudden, casual, and it throws you off for a moment. “What?” You laugh, furrowing your brow. “Like, what do you mean?”

He shrugs, his grip loose on the steering wheel. “Just one thing you hate. Something small. What’s something that drives you crazy?”

His arm moves behind your seat, while one hand takes the wheel and maneuvers the car seamlessly back out of the parking spot—and you don’t quite understand why you think that lone action is so sexy. It’s a miracle you’re still able to think and respond to his simple question. “Okay… I hate it when people chew with their mouth open.”

Yoongi chuckles, the sound low and warm. “Yeah, I’m guilty of that.”

“What about you?” you ask, feeling more at ease. “What’s something you hate?”

Without missing a beat, he grins. “Mushrooms. I can’t stand them.”

“Mushrooms?” You snicker. “What, like all of them?”

“All of them,” he says firmly. “They taste like dirt.”

“Wrong.” You shake your head, laughing. “They do not. You’re just picky.”

He turns to you, raising an eyebrow playfully. “Nope, I’m right. Name another thing.”

“Pickles,” you say.

“Get out of the car,” he deadpans and you both laugh.

“Not even on pizza? I actually can’t eat pizza without it.”

“Yeah, it’s still a no for me,” you say, rubbing your palms on your pants.

“Are you still cold?” He asks.

“A little,” you say, your damp clothes still causing a bit of a chill.

At the next stop light he reaches for something in the back seat and places a folded scarf of some sort on your lap. Grateful, you mutter a thanks as BIGBANG’s “Haru Haru” comes next.

You sigh, smelling his faint cologne on the garment, and melt in your seat as you pull the fabric over your shoulders, “I love this song…”

“Me too,” he says. “I listened to this song a lot when I was in high school.”

“Yeah, me too,” you share a smile before his eyes go back on the road as the green light comes. “What were you like in school?” you ask.

He raises an eyebrow, considering your question for a second. And his response was blunt, as he tends to be.  “Was a loser. Kept to myself. Worked on music when I could. School wasn’t really my thing.”

“Figures,” you tease.

He doesn’t glance at you, but there was an amused grin playing on his lips. “What about you? You look like a popular kid.”

“Oh, I was definitely a loser, too. Overachieving student who tried way too hard to please everyone,” you say with a self-deprecating laugh, looking at the pouring rain outside. “I always thought if I did everything right, I’d end up happy, but…”

“… but now?” Yoongi asks, tone softer than you’ve ever heard him before.

You hesitate, unsure why this feels like a deeper question than it should. But you wanted to give him some honesty. A tiny piece of you to hold on to if he wants. “Now… I don’t know. I’m still figuring it out, I guess.”

“You will,” he promises, glancing at you in the corner of his eyes and you meet his gaze with a shy smile.

“Thanks.”

Silence falls between you. The music fills the space as the rain lets up, and the streets blur outside the window. It feels like a moment—one you don’t want to think too hard about, because thinking too hard about anything with him feels dangerous.

He pulls up outside your apartment, the car coming to a smooth stop. You don’t move right away, letting the last bit of the song play out as you sit in the warmth of the car.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, finally unbuckling your seatbelt, but your voice feels quieter than usual.

“No problem.” His eyes meet yours for just a second, and it lingers—like there’s something else he wants to say, but doesn’t.

You step out into the cool night air, still feeling his gaze on you as you make your way to the door. When you glance back, Yoongi is still parked there, watching you, and just to lighten the mood you call out, "Bye, loser!" He shakes his head with a tiny grin, "Later, loser!" before he finally pulls away.

Your heart’s racing the whole way up the stairs, each step making it louder, faster, like it’s echoing off the walls. You enter your apartment and press a hand to your chest, trying to calm yourself down, but it’s useless—he’s been stuck in your head since you stepped out of the car. Hell, he's been there for days. You wonder if he could feel the headrush too, all the way from Hannam, where he went completely out of his way just to drop you off. 

What you don’t know is Yoongi, back in his apartment, though a little later, is doing the same—sitting there, trying to calm his pulse, still thinking about the long drive, and why he didn’t mind the distance. And as he lay awake in his large bed, smiling like a lunatic, replaying the moments of the day, he knew there really was only one reason:

He likes you.

A/N: What do you think??? I'm so excited for this series!!! Again, just leave a comment if you want to be tagged on the next chapters! Thank you so much for reading! ~k

Edit: Answer this story-related Poll

Chapter Two >

[soaps-mohawk]

I'm going to be honest

I'm having a genuinely hard time making this post. I've been fighting with it for a couple weeks now, but I think it's time I finally make it.

I'm not having fun on this blog anymore.

It sounds bad, but honestly, it kind of is.

I think a lot of it started from the very beginning with the precedence and expectations I put on myself. I've always tried to respond to every comment I get. Even from the beginning. It's just a polite thing to do since those who leave comments took the time to write out what they think of my fic, even if it's just a keysmash. I've always felt the need to thank those who leave comments or reblog my writing or (now that tumblr has it) replied to my fics. It worked fine before because none of my fics were particularly popular. Even my most popular fic (at that time) didn't get as much attention as CRCB has. I've never had a "big blog" before, nor a fic as popular as CRCB has gotten.

It was fine at first, responding to everyone, engaging with everyone. I was riding that high of omg so many people are reading and enjoying my fic! I've never had anything quite like this before.

Now...it just feels more like a chore. I set this precedence on this blog that I respond to everyone and I know a lot of people have said that they're surprised I responded to them and to everyone, and now I'm getting why a lot of writers don't. I'm exhausted. I feel like I've just been robotically saying the same thing over and over trying to respond to people now. I used to love seeing asks in my inbox and reblogs and replies but now? All I feel is dread because I have to respond to all of those.

Turning anon off was a big help. It lessened the sheer volume of asks I was getting a day. And while I do feel bad for all of my anons who prefer to stay anons, with everything that happened (the multiple incidents) with anon that kind of started to suck the joy out of everything. That paired with the obsessive need to constantly have my inbox cleared and make sure everyone gets a response...I can understand now too why big blogs will have 200+ asks in their inbox. It's hard and it's exhausting and I'm burning out.

First it was the fic that was burning me out. Things have gone on far longer than I planned and I just wasn't prepared for this fic to go on and for a while there it was dragging. I'll admit that. If I could go back, I'd speed up a few things, but it's done, it's posted there's no going back. I kind of hoped I would have the mental capacity to upload more than once a week too, but I just couldn't. I still can't.

I've come to dread posting chapters because I know I'm going to have to reply and respond to everyone. The only thing keeping me posting is the fact that we're in the part of the story I've been excited about since the beginning and also because I keep leaving everyone on cliffhangers and I love torturing y'all with all of them.

So that being said, this is in no way to shame anyone for interacting with me, anyone leaving comments or replies or sending asks. Don't feel bad about doing it please. I appreciate all of you that have engaged with me and it really means so much to me. Honestly, earlier this year, if I didn't have this fic and everyone on this blog, I might not have made it to now. It's been a really rough year and it's still going to be into next year. It's just getting to the point where I need a break.

I've needed a break for a long time. I thought taking days off the blog would help, and it did for a couple of weeks, but now even on the days I'm supposed to be on the blog and engaging, I just find myself queueing stuff up and just being offline most of the day still.

I'm tired. That's the best reason I can give. I'm tired and burned out on life and I'm tired and burned out on this blog.

So...I think I need a break. I need to not keep responding to every single reply and reblog every chapter. I need to not force myself to answer every ask right away, no matter how much I want to. I feel bad, but I know everyone would rather have me here and enjoying the blog than forcing myself to interact to the point where I'm dreading it and just robotically repeating myself over and over with every reply and answer and comment.

I won't be pausing the fic, I won't be not uploading. I'll still be posting chapters, I just might not be interacting as much as I have been. It's just putting such a mental strain on me still, even with anon off, even with days off. And with things getting busier for me, it's going to be too much to try and deal with irl stuff and write and try to be super active on the blog. There's going to come a point where I have to sacrifice the writing or the blog and I'd rather sacrifice the blog to keep myself sane, and also to keep trying to finally get this fic done. I love this fic, don't get me wrong, but I'm just burning out.

I'm already burned out in a lot of ways.

I was planning kinktober this year but honestly I'm considering not doing it because I know interaction is going to be insane and it's going to be a lot to keep up on. Plus trying to write that many fics is hard and I'm not sure I have the ability to do it. I have a few done but now I'm just like...is that something I want to do on top of irl stuff and CRCB.

There's just no joy in it anymore. It's not anyone's fault but mine. I put the pressure on myself, I held myself to that standard for this long despite the fact I knew it was draining me. I've tried to push through when I should have prioritized myself. I feel so guilty not responding to everyone. I feel so guilty being a day or two late responding to everyone.

I want to be here and interacting and responding to things but I just can't bring myself to anymore. It's no one's fault, and this is not a drag on anyone, or an attempt to make anyone feel bad or guilty for interacting or sending asks or anything. I'm just airing out the truth and saying what I need to say because I feel like I've been so robotic and lifeless with my responses these last couple weeks and I feel like I need to explain why. It's nothing anyone has done. It's my fault. It's 100% my fault.

Things have just gotten to be too much and it's my fault for forcing myself to be so active. The social battery has dropped into the negatives. I'm not a social person. I can only handle so much interaction and I've pushed so far beyond that, that things have gotten to this point. I want to be here and I want to have fun and I want to use this as an escape but I just don't feel that way about it anymore. It's a chore for me, a job, something I feel like I have to do and it's my fault that I feel that way. It's my own standards and expectations I set on myself, and my expectations on what I think my followers want and deserve and now I feel like I've gone on too long like this that I can't change things without hurting anyone's feelings. I don't want people to think I'm ignoring them in favor of others because I know there's writers out there that do that. They only respond to a certain group and ignore others that comment and reblog. I don't want to make anyone feel like I'm doing that to them and that's now led me to here.

I'm forcing it and I'm tired.

It's been hard these last few weeks. The life has just been draining and draining continuously. The joy and the love I have for this blog and my followers and the interactions and the fic. The last anon bullshit that happened was just kind of the last nail in the coffin so to speak. The straw that broke the camel's back. Things stopped being fun. It made me feel bad (and not in the guilty way, though that was a part of it) and I'm honestly just over it. I'm over the blog, I'm over interacting, I'm over life at this point. August is a hard month for me and every year it seems to get worse and worse. A lot of it is unrelated to anything online and I was going to make a post about it but honestly I just don't want to. Those that know, know. Those that don't...it doesn't matter.

I'm getting annoyed by the blog, I'm getting annoyed every time I look in my notifications and see an ask or a reply or a comment. I'm getting annoyed by some of my followers and that's not fair to you. Everyone always talks about how nice and kind and patient I am when I'm really not. I'm not the person I present myself to be on this blog, the way I mask myself so I can present myself as being a normal, kind human being. The mask is coming off because I'm so tired I can't keep it up anymore. It's happening here and it's happening in real life. I'm tired and I'm frustrated and I'm angry at a lot of things and the last thing I want is to start taking it out on my followers. You don't deserve that, especially when it's not your fault, it's nothing any of you have done. It's all me.

It's not you, it's me.

So for the sake of not burning this whole thing to the ground, I'm going to take a break. I'm not replying to everyone, I'm not responding to every reblog, I won't reply to every ask I get right away, if at all because sometimes I just don't have anything to say in response and I need to learn that's okay. It's nothing against you. It's not aimed at anyone specifically, I'm just trying to put myself first and stop things from escalating. I need a break and I'm going to do something selfish and I'm going to take it.

Don't apologize because it's not your fault. Don't apologize because you think you might have contributed to this because you didn't. It is no one's fault but my own.

I'm the one that needs to apologize to all of you because I've just not been myself because I've been forcing myself to be someone I'm not. I've been very unfair to a lot of people over the last seven months that this blog has been active and I've held a precedent that is not sustainable in the long run and made everyone believe that I was capable of maintaining that kind of interaction when I'm not.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've been putting everyone through this. I'm sorry I've been so detached and robotic and ingenuine. I'm sorry I led everyone to believe I'm someone I'm not. I'm sorry I've dragged this on this long that it's gotten to the point that I have to make this post.

I considered just disappearing but that wouldn't be fair to you either. I don't want to put you through that, so I'm pouring all of my thoughts out and making you read through this fucking novel of a post. If you've made it this far, then congrats I guess. Gold metals to you who bothered reading this far.

Anyway, all of that aside, I'll still be posting chapters. I'll have them scheduled and I'll probably come on and add links places to keep things current. I'll respond and reply and answer asks when I feel like it. You don't have to stop sending them, but just don't expect them to be responded to right away anymore. I'll probably still be here reblogging things I want and doing things when I feel like it.

I just need a few weeks to myself. Time I don't have to care about the blog at all and keeping up with it. Anon will remain off for the sake of keeping asshole trolls away, and also so I don't open tumblr and have 200 asks in my inbox after a week. Sorry to my anons but it's just the way it needs to be right now. Maybe once this break is over and I've dealt with irl stuff, I'll consider putting it back on. I just can't after everything I dealt with recently on anon.

It'll be the same on Ao3, for those that follow here and read there. Comments will probably sit for a while. They won't be answered right away anymore unless I get the energy to burn through them. Even then I won't try to answer them all at once like I did this last weekend.

I'll try to reblog something every day so y'all know I'm alright. I don't want y'all to panic and it's not fair to put you through that, especially those that might not see this or bother reading it. Those that follow simply for the fic and nothing else. I'm here, I'm just not...here.

This week's chapter is in the queue to be posted tomorrow as usual. Chapters will still come out as planned since I'm not stopping writing, just taking a break from the blog itself.

Thank you those of you who stuck through to the end here. I appreciate all of you so much. You have no idea. I'm sorry I let things get to this point and I'm sorry to anyone that I've gotten rude or snappy with because I couldn't be selfish and put myself first. I'm sorry to anyone that got a robotic, repeated response to something they were probably excited to share. I'm sorry I've been so unfair to everyone and I hope you can forgive me.

Take care and I'll talk to everyone when I have the energy to.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 2: What A Great Freakin’ Way To Start The Day

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you never expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you’re around him the more you hate him, but you can’t help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team. (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy,

Word Count: 5.2K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), swearing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, sexual tension. Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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The morning begins the same way it always does, with your neighbor Mike blasting "I Will Always Love You" in his apartment at exactly 8 am just as he had each day since you met two years ago. It was the only constant in your life, but at least you didn't have to use an alarm clock anymore. The sound of Mike belting out the lyrics at the top of his lungs was enough to wake everyone in the whole building, including the people on the eighth floor, five stories above him.

But because Mike bought the super’s probably illegally made cologne and because the super was dating Mike’s mother, something that made you regret supe hearing very much, it never stopped despite the numerous complaints.

Then again it was Annie's favorite thing about sleeping over, she liked to scream the lyrics back at the wall and jump on your bed like a crazy banshee. Honestly you hoped that it would stop after Ben had pretended to be your boyfriend, that Mike would finally figure it out and give up.

Guess not.

You sit up in your bed, stretching your hands over your head while humming the chorus under your breath, but you were more of an ABBA fan. If Mike had decided to serenade you with "Take A Chance On Me" or even Aretha Franklin's "You're All I Need to Get By," you might have looked at him differently.

The memory of the dream of his mullet smothering you in your sleep momentarily passes over your mind, causing a shudder to travel down your spine. Or maybe not.

Your bedroom was similar to your living room, covered in plants. Trailing jasmine and bougainvillea blanketed the wall behind your bed in deep red and white, budding lavender, lilac, and honeysuckle sat in pots along the top of your dresser, and a blush colored rose bush, that never went out of bloom, stood proudly in the corner. The only difference was that there were two large piles of books almost as tall as your ceiling, some old some new, braced beside the rose bush like Roman columns. You kept trying to remember to buy a bookshelf, but each time you thought about going to pick one up, Butcher usually called and asked you to help out. Both piles were covered almost completely in pothos and more hung from the brick walls above your only window, that opened the floor length pale yellow curtains with a flick of your hand.

An annoyed purring sound greets your ears as the honeyed light from the now open window wisps over your covers. Bean, your cat, stalks up from the end of the bed, his yellowed eyes narrowed with annoyance at being woken up so early while his charcoal gray coat turns lighter in the brilliant sunlight. Last night he had been in your bedroom when you got home, which meant that he hadn't been around Ben when he came in.

A good thing, because Bean hated just about everyone except Butcher, which you thought was weird. But whenever Butcher dropped by to talk to you Bean always came over to look for rubs, while hissing at anyone who tried to interrupt them. Hughie was actually afraid of Bean, and because Bean was a cat he immediately picked up on this and purposely would jump on the couch next to Annie so Hughie couldn't sit there, Bean also followed after Hughie to the bathroom and waited outside the door to swipe at his ankles whenever he would come out.

But you didn't love him any less.

He puts his paw on your thigh lightly extending his claws to get your attention.

"Oh are you talking to me now?" You smile, rubbing him behind the ears. "I thought you were angry because I woke you up?"

He purrs and pushes his chunky gray head against your hand, but startles when the song switches to "My Heart Will Go On" which causes Mike's mother to join in to his karaoke session.

I'd move if my apartment wasn't so damn cheap.

"Maybe they should take the show on the road. Huh buddy?"

Bean purrs his response while pushing his head further into your hand.

His mom wasn't that bad of a singer, in fact, you thought that you remembered eavesdropping on a conversation between her and the super when she talked about a career as a cabaret singer a while ago.

"Come on, let's see if Gramps killed any of my plants." You smile down at your cat. "If he did I'm going to turn him into a tree."

Bean purrs in agreement.

You get out of bed, adjusting your shirt back down over your shorts before walking to the door with Bean following behind you. You step out into the cool hallway, with more enthusiasm than usual as you try to escape the butchering of the Titanic's soundtrack and collide into something warm and wet.

It takes you exactly seven seconds to realize that the warm, wet, thing that your face is currently stuck to, is in-fact Ben's chest, his shirtless chest. Why he's standing in the hallway outside your door, soaking wet and wearing a towel you have no idea. All you know is that your face is physically laying against the warm flesh of his pectoral muscles.

"Why are you NAKED?" You scream as you peel yourself off of him and turn your gaze away. Your face felt so warm that it was like you'd been standing in front of a volcano for too long and you were sure that you had blushed to the roots of your hair.

You'd only seen him without his shirt on once, when the door to his bedroom was cracked at the apartment he shared with the rest of the group. But it was from the back and you had been walking by to go to the bathroom, and you hadn't looked…

Well, you may have stopped for a second to admire the powerful muscles on his muscular back and maybe thought about waiting for him to turn around so you could see if the front was as good as the back… but you hadn't.

And he certainly hadn't been soaking wet then, and it made you hate him more now, because no one should look as good as he does soaking wet. You personally knew that you looked like a drowned poodle whenever you stepped out of the shower, but him? Soldier Boy looks like he just finished filming a shampoo commercial.

You could see it in your head, him standing under a crystal blue waterfall with the water splashing against weathered rocks before running through his soft brown hair, curving around his broad shoulders, down his toned stomach straight down to his-

NO. Not gonna go there. You could feel your skin heating in embarrassment, almost as if you thought he could read your mind.

"I'm not naked doll, I mean I could be if you wanted me to." He smirks as he hears your heartbeat begin to pick up and reaches for the end of his towel. The towel that was almost too small to wrap around his waist and left very little to the imagination.

"NO!" You shout holding up a hand to stop him, but again brush the front of his chest.

Fuck, you could zest a lemon on those abs.

"Are you sure?" Ben smiles wider, taking a step forward. He's so close that you can smell your grapefruit mint shampoo on him and feel the humidity and warmth of his body as he stands there. For some reason the fact that he used your shampoo, and smelled like your soap, made you feel warm and tingly. It was almost hypnotic. You hated how much you liked it. "Because you're turning that cute little red color you always do whenever I'm around, and your heartbeat is kinda fast."

"No. I don't." You grit your teeth together. "Why are you standing outside of my door naked?"

"Maybe I was waiting for you to come out." His hand presses against the doorway next to your head. "You know, I already took a shower, but if you wanted I'd be happy to get back in with you."

"No thanks. I don't need a shower and I wouldn't shower with you if it was the last shower on earth and I hadn't bathed in forty years." You purse your lips. "Oh right, that happened to you."

Ben frowns at your mention of his time in Russia. You didn't often tease him about being trapped in a lab, you knew that it was a sore spot for him. Plus you'd seen the footage of exactly what those doctors did to him and it was enough to make you want to book a one way ticket to Russia and personally show them what happened when a tree got shoved up your ass.

You open your mouth to apologize.

"I was going to ask if you have any other clothes here. Mine are still wet from last night." He raises an eyebrow, but the humor is gone from his eyes.

"Oh. Um. I can take a look." You turn and walk into your bedroom, trying not to feel awkward about bringing up the lab.

He was a jerk, but he didn't deserve a reminder of how shitty the last forty years have been.

Truthfully, you weren't sure if you had anything that would fit him. Ben was a lot bigger than you, taller and broader. You usually did wear things that were a little big for you, but you didn't think that Ben would fit in any of them.

Maybe I have something from when my brother was here last time.

Darren often dropped by when he was in the city visiting his friends or had a new "business" venture. The ones that never seemed to last and the friends that always seemed happy to spend the moan you "loaned" him for his "best idea yet" as he always phrased it. But he hadn't been by in at least a year.

"It's really green in here too." You hear Ben say under his breath.

You didn't think that he was going to follow you into your room, you thought he was going to stay in the hallway, but no, he had followed you. And he made the room feel even smaller than it was with his broad shoulders and over six foot stature.

The sunlight from the window glinted off his still wet chest and it made your throat uncomfortably tight. For the love of chocolate pudding, WHY does he look so good all the time?

"You can wait in the hall-"

"Wanted to see your bedroom." He smirks. "Though I think that you wanted to show it to me last night-"

You ignore him and turn back to your chest of drawers while Mike and his mother switch to "What Makes You Beautiful" by One Direction. You wince as they begin.

"Do they always do that?" Ben asks.

"Yep. Since I moved in." You sigh, shuffling through your t-shirts.

"He's really got it bad Sweetheart. Maybe you should throw him a bone. Kinda seems like the poor guy needs to get some ass-"

"If it's any of your business- which it's not- I do not like him that way."

"Well they're a little loud." You feel Ben take a step closer to you. "But I bet you and I could give them a run for their money. We are in your bedroom after all, might as well make the most of it."

"I didn't know that you liked Karaoke. I'll keep that in mind for you 105th birthday party."

"What? No I meant-"

Bean purrs loudly from his position on your bed and you wait for the telltale sound of Ben shooing him away when Bean tries to puncture Ben's impenetrable skin with his claws, but it doesn't come.

You glance over your shoulder. Are you kidding me?

Bean is sitting on your white plush comforter, rubbing up against Ben's hand, purring while Ben scratches him behind the ears.

Traitor.

"Didn't know you had a cat." Ben says continuing to stroke his hand down Bean's spine, who stands up and turns so Ben can have a better angle.

"I didn't peg you for a cat person. Kinda ruins the whole all-American Man image you have going on."

He shrugs. "I like dogs more, but I don't hate cats. Usually they don't like me very much."

"I wonder why that is." You grumble watching Bean lean into Ben's hand again. "His name is Bean."

"Bean? Why?"

"Because when I got him I was trying to grow green beans in the linen closet and he would sit outside the door and screech until I gave him a green bean to play with."

"You were trying to grow green beans in the linen closet?"

"Yeah. Seemed like a good idea, but they like the bathroom more-" You finally find the oversized Led Zeppelin shirt your brother left the last time he crashed at your apartment and a pair of jeans. "A lot of my plants like the bathroom more actually."

"I was going to ask you why the bathroom floor and wall was squishy."

"It's moss. It thrives in humid environments." You hold out the clothes for him.

"Uh-huh." He frowns at the clothes for a minute. "So you're saying you wouldn't want a guy to serenade you like that?" Ben nods his head towards your bedroom wall, just as Mike and his mother begin to belt out the chorus. "Thought girls liked sappy shit."

"I'm not a fan of One Direction."

"Right. You like ABBA more." Ben turns towards your door to go back to the bathroom to change.

Shock momentarily spikes in your chest. "How did you know that?"

He freezes as if you caught him doing something bad, turning slightly towards you. "Um- well, you hum their songs a lot."

"When?" You cross your arms over your chest.

"Whenever you're on stake outs. Sometimes when you're reading those files or waiting for Annie at the apartment." He shrugs. “When you were walking last night you were humming ‘Fernando.’"

He noticed that?

"How long exactly were you following me?"

"Long enough." He raises an eyebrow. "Are you trying to keep me talking because you want me to change in here? Because I would be more than happy to drop this towel and show you what a real man looks like Sweetheart."

"Don't flatter yourself Gramps. If you drop that towel the only thing that'll happen is Bean will think you brought him a green bean to play with." You roll your eyes. "Now get out of my room. I have to change."

Ben begins to say something, but the vines hanging above the door push him out into the hall and shut the door behind him.

That felt good.

After you put on a white t-shirt, your favorite pair of jean overalls and your dark green converse, you make your way out into the living room. Ben is there, lounging on your couch like he owns it. He’s wearing the jeans and t-shirt you gave him, but you can't help but notice how the clothes are just a little too small for him. The way his muscles pull at the t-shirt, the way the jeans hug his thighs and butt-

He's getting way too comfortable here. You think to yourself to avoid the thought of how good he looks on your couch. How it almost feels natural that he's sitting here in your living room, inhabiting your space.

"So what's for breakfast doll face?" He leans his head back to gaze at you with a mischievous smile that makes a warm tingle travel down the length of your spine.

"Well, I'm going to have oatmeal and you're going to have whatever you want I guess?"

His eyes darken. "Whatever I want?"

"Calm down Gramps I meant that there's cereal in the cabinet." You roll your eyes to avoid thinking about the kiss last night and then thinking about how it felt for your body to be pressed against his in the hallway when you ran into him.  Which inevitably leads back to the waterfall fantasy and-

No. No. Not going to do that. Not with him. He's just good at getting women into bed, he doesn't care about you. You think about how he remembered that you liked ABBA. That doesn't mean anything. He doesn't see me as anything more than a conquest and he probably remembered that because he's changing tactics and trying not to act like a creep.

“You’re not going to pour me a bowl?” His smirk pulls down in an attractive pout.

“I think it’s simple enough for your little brain to do.” You don’t turn around from the kitchen cabinets, grabbing a raspberry from the refrigerator and popping it in your mouth. For some reason you noticed that whatever you grew tasted better than anything you bought at the grocery store. You hoped that it didn’t mean that your powers supercharged whatever you grew and that it was actually radioactive or something. 

Because that’s exactly what I need, to turn bright green. 

“There’s nothing little about me doll.” 

“Can’t you ever have a conversation with someone without it revolving around sex?” You grumble banging around in your cabinets to find your instant oatmeal. 

It was a valid point and you were tired of getting whiplash every time Ben acted caring and then flipping back to horny manchild.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Ben laughs. He stands from the couch and makes his way into your kitchen.

It was hard not to notice how small each room in your apartment looked with him in it. His head was only a foot below the ceiling, not to mention the kitchen was only composed of six cabinets, a small sink, a microwave shoved into a corner, a stove top, and a refrigerator that only came up to Ben’s shoulders. Your bathroom was worse, sometimes the shower was small even for you and you didn’t know how Ben fit in there. 

He probably had to duck down to stand under the shower head. 

And then as you thought that, the image of Ben standing under a waterfall comes creeping back, making the strawberry plant on top of the fridge, the raspberry vines, and the blackberry vines covering your refridgerator burst into bloom.

Thankfully Ben didn’t notice, because he was rooting through the white top cabinet in the corner for one of the cereal boxes. 

I’d never hear the end of it if he saw that happen. 

You glare at the plants in question, eyes shifting to a deep green as the flowers develop into fresh fruit to cover your slip. 

Ben pulls out a box of Lucky Charms, but frowns at Lucky on the front cover, who is throwing a handful of marshmallow charms into the air around him. 

Guess he's not a fan.

 “If I’d known you were going to sleep on my couch I would have gotten Bran flakes and prunes for you.” You smirk as you pour water over the oats in the bowl before placing it in the microwave to cook. “I know people your age need that kind of thing sometimes. Gets the bowel moving.”

“Make fun of my age all you want.” Ben steps around you to grab the almost empty bottle of milk from your refrigerator. “One day you’ll be happy to find out just how experienced I am.”

“Keep dreaming.”

His dark eyes meet yours. “You’re all I dream about baby.”

You can feel his breath on the side of your neck from how close he is to you, the kitchen seems smaller than it ever has, and he leans forward, sensing your hesitation. One of his hands goes on the kitchen counter to your right, the other places the milk down and then braces on the counter to your left caging you against him. 

“Do any of your lines actually work?” You say, throat tight.

“You’d be surprised.” He smirks wider, green eyes sliding up and down your body. 

 The air in the kitchen electrifies, something passing through the air between the two of you that makes you feel like your heart is going to burst out of your chest. His eyes are softer green now, reminding you of the color of fresh leaves on an oak tree in spring, bright, strong, and full of life. His body is pressed gently against yours, the strong muscles of his abdomen laying on your hips, muscular arms making sure that you don't walk away.

You try not to think again about how good he looks in your apartment, how calm and relaxed he seems when he’s away from Butcher and not wearing his uniform. 

Standing here in your apartment, he looked normal, human. Sometimes it was hard to remember that you were, when you could do what you did, when you saw him get hit with a car and shove it away with one hand. 

He was still ridiculously attractive, the kind of attractive that you’d read in romance novels and in classic Roman literature, the kind of beautiful that people wrote poetry about, the kind of ruggedly handsome that made smart girls stupid. 

You were really feeling that last one. Because you were desperately trying to hold on to your dream of being with someone that understood every part of you, but Ben was making it hard.

It wasn’t that the idea of sleeping with him was terrible. It wasn’t. It was far from terrible it was the idea of having sex without feelings that you didn’t like. You didn’t want to sleep with him because you knew that he only saw you as something to be possessed not as an equal or someone he cared about. Soldier Boy only cared about himself, that was apparent.

He’s only interested in you because you haven’t given in. You think to yourself. It's all about the thrill of the chase, nothing else. I'm worth more than that. I'm worth more than one night.

“In fact, I think it’s working on you doll.” Ben leans down towards you so close you can feel his words in the air between your faces, his eyes searching yours as if waiting for you to say no.

That made you pause. Ben didn’t seem to be the type of man who was patient. You’d walked in on him making out with numerous women on the couch back at the apartment he shared with the rest of the team, saw how he took control, saw how he didn’t seem to wait for them to say no or really say anything at all. Not to mention one time when you walked into the shared apartment and could hear Ben with one of his "dates" in his bedroom. Nothing about that seemed patient at all.

But this Ben standing in your kitchen was different. He was almost smiling, dark hair still damp from the shower curling on his forehead, the t-shirt damp around the collar, jeans a dark blue, and the smell of your shampoo fills your senses again all over again. It made you wish for this person all the time. The one that you could see yourself falling in love with, not the racist, sexist, and inappropriate jerk that seemed to dominate his persona at all other parts of the day.

Funny, the only time you’d ever seen Ben like this, was when the two of you were alone- well sometimes- other times he annoyed you without end and made you want to jump out a window. 

But why? Why only around me?

The feeling in your chest grows. It jumps from synapse to synapse, pulses along your skin, buzzes in your blood, tangles through your hair, and radiates through the air like a sound wave. Your eyes drift down to his lips remembering exactly what it was like to kiss him last night. How he seemed to consume you whole, how everything else fell away, how Ben curled himself around you, how he-

Your cell phone rings, breaking through the moment, and making you remember exactly why you didn’t want to give in to Ben and remember the kind of person he was. 

You push him away and pull your cellphone out of your pocket. Butcher's photo and name appear on the screen.

Shit.

"Hey Butch, what's up?" You look away from Ben, forcing yourself to calm your racing heart.

Ben perks up at the mention of Butcher’s name.

“Do you have any idea where Soldier Boy is?”

“Soldier Boy?”

“Seems like our blunt smoking man out of time has vanished. Been trying to text him all bloody morning.”

At least he doesn’t know that Ben is here. That’s good. I’d never hear the end of it if-

Ben snatches the phone from your hand and holds it up to his ear. “What the fuck do you want?”

The softness was gone, his eyes had hardened again, and the spell was broken. Ben was no longer relaxed, his shoulders were tensed and guarded, jaw set.

It didn’t take a genius to know that Ben didn’t like Butcher. Sometimes you wondered why Ben decided to stay.

Probably because the alternative was being frozen like Han Solo next to his son.

When Ben had knocked Homelander out, you hadn’t believed it, and despite Ben’s arguing Butcher wanted to keep Homelander a supe, and just put him on ice. You had no idea why, especially since Butcher had been gunning for him forever, but had the sneakiest suspicion that it was because of Ryan.

But you didn't blame Butcher for that, watching your father get killed in front of you seemed traumatic, not to mention Ryan was still reeling from watching his mother die.

You turn back to your microwave to pull out your bowl of oatmeal with a groan.

Now Butcher’s going to mock me endlessly about going home with Soldier Boy. We didn’t do anything! Well…

Your mind flits back to the searing kiss you shared and to five seconds ago when whatever the hell just happened.

“You want me to meet you in fucking Jersey?” Ben laughs.

You choose not to eavesdrop on the conversation, instead you busy yourself with sprinkling brown sugar onto your breakfast and plucking a few more raspberries from the vines.

“Fine.” Ben almost growls before holding out the phone to you. “He wants to talk to you.”

Of course he does. Maybe I can pretend to lose the signal with a piece of paper or a candy wrapper.

“Hello-“

“You crazy wanker.” Butcher chuckles into the phone. “Guess your night was a little more exciting than mine eh? Oi Hughie, you owe me a tener!” He shouts to Hughie who you can guess is sitting nearby.

“What? He’s with y/n! No way!” You hear Hughie shout back, muffled but there.

Damn it he’s gonna tell Annie. She's going to start sending me pictures of babies photoshopped in supe suits.

“You guys were betting that he was here?!” You shout making eye contact with Ben who only smirks before he busies himself with getting a bowl for his cereal.

“He left about two minutes after you did. Said some bullshit about a smoke break.” Butcher is smiling and you know it. “How was he? Was he as good as all the girls say?" Butcher coos on the other side of the line.

“Nothing happened-“

“Sure it didn’t Cherie!” You hear Frenchie crow. “Hopefully you got to relieve some of that tension no?”

“I hate all of you.” You grumble, and before Butcher can say anything else you hang up the phone and glare at Ben. “This is your fault.”

“What do you mean sweetheart?”

“You just had to follow me home!”

“You shouldn’t have been walking out there alone.”

“I do it all the time!”

“Not anymore.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not going to let you walk around alone in the middle of the night.”

"Like hell. I don't need a babysitter!"

"I think you do-"

"No I don't. In fact why are you still here? Why haven't you left?" You shout, snatching your bowl of oatmeal before moving to the wobbly kitchen table that you smooshed up against a window that looks out onto your fire escape.

"Because I tend to like morning sex. It's a great way to start the day. Thought you'd be interested." Ben winks as he sits across from you, barely fitting in the wooden chair.

Your phone buzzes where it sits on the table beside your bowl. When you flip it over, you see the text from Annie.

Annie: YOU SLEPT WITH SOLDIER BOY?!!!!

You: I'm not going to dignify that with a response.

Annie: That's a yes. TELL ME EVERYTHING!!!

You sigh and shovel a spoonful of oatmeal into your mouth, eyes drifting up to the top of your phone screen focusing on the time.

"SHIT! I'm late for work!" You shout before shoving as much oatmeal as you can into your mouth.

"Work?" Ben looks up from his bowl of cereal confused as you begin to run around the room.

The half-eaten bowl of oatmeal falls into the sink with a resounding crash, Bean's cat food lands haphazardly in his bright green food dish, and you practically run to your tote bag that hangs on a peg by your front door.

"I told you. I work at a plant shop." You glance back at your barren coffee maker mournfully. The thought of trying to get through the day without coffee seemed impossible, not to mention you didn’t have time to grab one on the way to work from your favorite shop just around the corner.

"I thought you were joking."

"No. Some of us have to work for a living." You run your fingers through your hair quickly pulling it back in a loose ponytail.

"You should leave your hair down." Ben says from the table watching you.

"What?"

"It's prettier when it's down."

"I don't have time for your misogynistic comments. Come on let's go."

"What?"

"I'm not going to leave you here in my apartment alone. You don't have a key."

"You could give me yours-"

"HA. No that's not going to happen. Come on." You tug on his muscular arm, trying to get him up out of the chair, but he barely moves.

“You know you could call out of work and we could spend the day in bed.” He smiles, eyes tracing your figure. “I mean you look good baby, but I think you'd look even better naked. Plus, Butcher and the rest of those fuckers already think we slept together so we might as well-“

“Not a chance Gramps. Either get up out of the chair and leave through the door or leave through the window. It’s your choice and I have no qualms with throwing you down to the street. But please don't make me do that because I can't afford a new window."

Ben rolls his eyes, but finally gets up to follow you. He actually tries to open the door for you, but you place your hand on his chest.

“Nah uh uh. Bowl in the sink. I’m not going to clean up after you.”

Ben sighs and mumbles something under his breath that’s lost in Mike’s inhuman screech of “Love on Top.”

Yeah. What a great fucking way to start the day.

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Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist for this series let me know :)

(Photos for series picture found on Pinterest)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @corruptedcruiser @winchesterwild78 @the-super-who-locked-wizard

@criminalyetminimal @52ndstreeet @bitchykittenconnoisseur @anna6307 @libby99hb

@faephoria @possiblyafangirl @jqtaro

[piastree]

Is It Over Now? | LN4

lando norris x reader (fc: olivia rodrigo)

— Part 2

Previous Part | Next Part

Summary : Y/N and Lando try to clear up the rumors about them. But things go downhill when Lando's actions end up causing more trouble for Y/N, leaving her facing hate comments from everyone.

landonorris added a story

luisinhaoliveira99 and landonorris

Liked by landonorris, username and 105,786 others

luisinhaoliveira99 ❤️

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username OMGGG YOU GUYS R SO CUTE

username oh i thought lando and y/n are back together :(

username what u expect??

username THE HARD LAUNCHING????? OMFFF LANDO LUISA

username luisa girl<3 i love her with lando

username CONGRATS BOTH OF U❤️

username whoever say lando hasn't moved on from y/n must see this lol

landonorris added a story

yourusername added a story

maxfewtrell definitely hate it bc u hate drama yourusername ???? lmao max yourusername out of the context maxfewtrell haha it's been a while hope u doing well yn

f1wagupdates

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f1wagupdates Lando has been rumored to be close to Luisa for nearly 3 months, yet there's still uncertainty about their relationship status. While photos of them spending time together suggest more than just a friend. Then came the surprising news when Lando and Y/N both posted photos aboard a yacht, sparking speculation of them back together. However, recent social media posts from Lando and Luisa show that they are getting intimate, emphasizing that Lando and Luisa are dating. Will Lando stick with his old flame or go for someone new?

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username Honestly, i ship Lando and Luisa so hard! They look so cute together❤️

username I'm here for races, but Lando's love life has me more invested than the races itself

username i just want him end up with whoever makes him happy

username team Luisa all the way! She and Lando look so happy together

username y/n, darling, do yourself a favor and find someone who actually wants to be with you. Lando's clearly moved on to bigger and better things

username y/n still chasing after Lando like a lost puppy? it's time to accept reality and move on girl

username yeah typical attention seeker always trying so hard to stay relevant

username posting the same vibe photos as lando lol such a pathetic move y/n

username you might not know the full story, just because she posted the same photos doesn't mean she's trying to start rumors

yourusername

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yourusername period cravings

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username your period cravings post is hilarious and so relatable😫

yourbff so ur period cravings are shopping for foods and makeup?

yourusername yepp<3

username you are so cuteeee

username is one year not enough for you to move on from lando?

username stop creating drama you need to grow up🙄

username he's happy with Luisa, give it up

username lando found someone better, and you're just embarrassing yourself at this point🤦‍♀️

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Thankyou for reading! Feel free to comments anything<3 see u in next chapter xx

taglist: @c-losur3 @tania2748 @starz4me1 @celestialend @booksandflowrs @xlinxdax0704

[drdt-oclock]

now, and hear me out, here is how acevi can still win (a thesis)

i have my personal suspicions that ace’s line “i needed a reason to hate you” has implications about his friendship with taylor—considering the only thing we know definitively that levi and taylor have in common is that they are both people that ace, at some point, has considered a friend. taylor's death is vaguely alluded to in a line of dialogue where ace states he doesn’t want a third death on his hands—a line that also shows he feels responsible—however, we can assume that taylor’s death was not maliciously ace’s fault, as ace’s motive secret is about his eating disorder; if he had truly committed a murder by the standards of the law, chances are that would have been written instead (see: levi, min). this being said, i believe that ace was deliberately hostile towards levi in an attempt to drive him away and discourage any form of friendship out of fear of deepening any pre-existing attachment he may have felt towards levi in the earlier half of chapter one.

levi, in turn, is shown to be confused by this, though we can gather from his lack of empathy or internalised morality that said confusion doesn’t stem from a place of anger, nor spite. subjectively, i believe that levi was, in some genuine way, intrigued by ace and his seemingly erratic behaviours, and this lack of overt distaste or hatred prompted ace to deliberately press his buttons, trying (and ultimately succeeding) in breaking levi’s composure. levi snapping at him, in some way, comforts ace, affirming his self-deprecating belief that he is incapable of being cared for, speeding up the process that he believes is inevitable; that levi will tire of him.

upon the revelation that whether ace lives or dies—and more broadly, ace in general is of no concern to levi, ace is very quickly forced to come to terms with the fact that all his efforts were effectively meaningless, and ultimately it would not have meaningfully contributed towards levi’s opinion of him. in a way, he mourns this; in his efforts to drive levi (and honestly, the entire cast) away through hostility, he placed a target on his own back, resulting in an attempt on his life from nico. in his final hours, ace is able to see the broader picture, formerly obscured by the tunnel vision given to him by his own debilitating anxiety, but is ultimately too proud (or too scared) to apologise to levi directly, doubling down on his efforts in the conversation they have post-trial.

i believe that ace did not necessarily account for forming an attachment—much less any form of attraction to levi, and that this oversight only further infuriated him. this culminates at the end of chapter 2, wherein levi is shot, perhaps fatally, and ace has to confront himself and the person he has tried to be throughout the narrative. in his final moments, not only does he plead for his own immediate execution—something he has been, quite literally, scared to tears by, with his general fear of death being highlighted continuously the entire series—but delivers a monologue to arturo in open defiance of his own vices, encouraging him to save levi’s life and not be petrified by the same fear he himself has now succumbed to. i am of the incredibly strong opinion that this dictates a strong level of care, or at the very least responsibility for levi and his wellbeing.

how will this culminate in acevi still winning? through levi. if he survives to chapter 3, which he very well may, he will be left to contemplate this; to attempt to unpack ace’s motivations for both his hostility and his seemingly unprecedented choice to face his own death to save levi’s life. while i think it’s unrealistic to expect any sudden empathy for ace in a hypothetical levi character arc, ace would undoubtedly occupy his thoughts well into later chapters.

thank you for reading keep in mind i am a sad little man with very strong and very biased opinions on things i have too much time to talk about ❤️

[alexlwrites]

𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐬

✿𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: OT7 x Plus Size! Reader

✿ 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: "What was so outrageous about someone like you, you asked yourself and the universe. You had tried your best to compensate for any shortcomings with everything else that was expected of you: femininity, understanding, a sense of humor. Never enough, those were never even the first thing that came to mind when people thought of you.

Why bother then? If nothing you did made any difference at all, why try? If people hated your body just for existing, why not give them a reason to hate your personality as well?"

OR  

The one where seven campus princes who are used to getting everything they wanted get enchanted by your distrust and brattiness, climbing over each other to get a smile from you who could not be bothered to give them a single second of your day.

✿ 𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒔:  Romance, Humor, Fluff, Angst, College AU

✿ 𝑨/𝑵: I wanna leave this here as sort of a trigger warning: this work features a plus size main character and throughout the story there will be mean comments from characters about her body and her journey dealing with said comments. A lot of it comes from my own experience as a (now ex-ish) plus size girl myself and my path to living peacefully within my body. And although this work is about Y/N's relationship with the boys, I like to think that she still would've continued to grow and blossom happily on her own. Let this be something you learn from this fic, as I say right on the first chapter: You don't have to love the way you look right away, you just can't let it stop you from doing the things you want and, in a greater scale, from being happy and treated with respect.

Thank you for reading <3

P.S: Red daisies, like many red flowers, represent love and romance. Florists often use them to communicate affection to someone who doesn’t know how beautiful they are—a.k.a. beauty unknown to the possessor. 

(Fanfic masterlist)

(support me on my ko-fi)

°•. ✿ .•°

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

The pattern in your relationships - if you could call them that - was tiring, to say the least. Once, they might have been soul crushing, but time and repetition took away the novelty of your pain and now the endgame was a mild, resented disappointment.

It started with kindness and a gentle smile, mainly from your part. You treated anyone who gave you any smidgen of attention with the utmost sweetness, hoping your energy would be matched. And sometimes it was, for a while. Sometimes you got to be on the receiving end of a blinding smile or a casual touch and you allowed yourself to hope - no, pray -that that could be it. That someone, some modern day knight in shiny armor , saw through your looks and decided that you were deserving of love, despite societal norms,

But men had a way of setting you up for disappointment. A talent, truly.

You were tired, you decided that night. No, beyond that, you were exhausted, scarred, bitter, hopeless, resentful… You could keep going. You could list every bad feeling you had been carrying in your chest by alphabetical order or by how badly they hurt and honestly you just wanted it to stop.

Would you have to change everything about your body to be happy, you wondered watching the boy you had been seeing for a few weeks make fun of you in front of his circle of friends at the party you were both at. Would you never be allowed to be happy just the way you were?

Would you have to change everything about your body to be happy?

“Yeah, she’s nice” Junsuu said, winking suggestively at his giggling friends “if you know what I mean.” you felt your face heat up in humiliation at the renewed round of laughter “But we just don’t match, like, physically. You know, looks-wise.”

“Right” someone agreed way too enthusiastically, sending a spear through your heart “I really just can’t see you with someone like her.”

What was so outrageous about someone like you, you asked yourself and the universe. You had tried your best to compensate for any shortcomings with everything else that was expected of you: femininity, understanding, a sense of humor. Never enough, those were never even the first thing that came to mind when people thought of you.

Why bother then? If nothing you did made any difference at all, why try? If people hated your body just for existing, why not give them a reason to hate your personality as well?

“You’re right” you said out loud, drawing attention to yourself. Filled with hatred (for him, the world, the circumstances), your heart had no room to be mortified when all eyes turned to you “we don’t match.”

You watched as Junsuu’s eyes widened, clearly not expecting you to hear, much less reply “I am a big girl” you continued, words dripping with rage “And I know for a fact that there’s nothing big about you.”

You turned around to leave the room, cringing at the petty comeback, ignoring the murmurs and Junsuu’s panicked calls of your name. Walking fast, you fled the scene of the last heartbreak you would allow yourself to go through, deciding that a change was needed, but not the change everyone wanted from  you.

Despite the rumors, you didn’t turn into a huge bitch overnight, didn’t start kicking puppies or spitting on the poor. Truly, the only thing you did was establish boundaries and reevaluate the amount of respect some people deserved, but very quickly people started seeing you as some sort of villain, especially when they realized how little you cared for how they saw you. How disrespectful of you to not allow yourself to be disrespected, right?

At first, there was still an air of uncertainty about you - years and years of non-reciprocal niceties drilled into your brain, habits hard to quit. But the more you let go of those things, these tiny acts of self-aggression disguised as pleasantries and altruism, the lighter you felt; Your days became easier to get through, existing within your body felt less and less like a punishment. You had yet to reach an Instagram-worthy level of body positivity, but you had become accustomed to body neutrality. You didn’t have to love the way you looked right away, you just couldn’t let it stop you from doing the things you wanted and, in a greater scale, from being happy and treated with respect.

And respect you started to demand and much happier you became, living in relative peace and solitude - safe by a few close friends - up until your days started being pestered by seven headaches you could not seem to shake away.

—-

Jungkook was the one that saw you first.

It was 3 weeks into the semester and he finally decided it was the perfect time to start going to classes, sitting in the back and only listening to about 25% of what was being said, mind floating towards more important subjects such as the package of ramen waiting for him at home. Only mildly interested in what the professor had to teach, he couldn’t help but to be startled when everyone started getting up from their seats to shuffle around the room. “What’s going on?” he asked the guy sitting next to him.

“Professor gave us a duo assignment.” the other man said, standing up “You're with Y/N.”

“Who?”

The guy just pointed towards you with his chin, redirecting Jungkook’s attention before leaving. You were sitting a couple rows further down, hunched over your little green IPad as you wrote something with impressive velocity. Jungkook walked over to you, already mentally going over what he would have to do to charm you into doing everything on your own “Y/N?” he called and you raised your head.

You were pretty, he noticed with satisfaction, all bright eyes and lovely features, curves everywhere he looked “Yes?”

“I’m Jungkook.” he extended his hand with a casual smirk “The professor put us together for this project.”

There had been a small, but pleasant and polite smile on your face up until he said those words, replaced by pursed lips and an arched brow. “Yes, I know. We’ve had classes together for over a year now and been partnered together before.”

Uh oh. “Right” he coughed awkwardly, fumbling under your hardened stare “so, about this project…”

“We will meet once a week,” you said, straightforward as you turned your eyes back to your sticker-filled IPad “I will go over the theme and split the work evenly, so give me your number and I can text you with what you’re supposed to do.”

“Woah, woah, asking for my number already?” he said in a flirting manner, sitting on top of your table so he could be directly in front of you.

“Would you prefer it if I emailed it to you?” you asked without looking up.

“Actually, I was thinking you could help me out a bit,” he placed his finger under your chin, raising your face towards him “you know I have soccer practice and…”

You pushed his hand away “Unless you’re playing at the World Cup, I can’t see how that would be more important than your studies, so you either do your part of the assignment or get an F in it, I don’t care. I won’t do all the work for you, Jeon. Not again.”

Again? Jungkook winced, trying to remember when you had met before. Surely he would remember getting his head bitten off by a snappy, pretty thing like you, wouldn’t he? Surely your attitude would stand out to him amongst all the sweetness and compliance he received just for existing and smiling.

“Here’s my number.” you gave him a piece of paper with your digits written in gel sparkly ink “Text me when you decide if you want to pass this class. Good day.” 

You looked down again, going back to your notes, signing that the conversation was over before he even had the chance to add anything more. He jumped off the desk and stepped away, looking back to see if you were looking at him, but there wasn’t a single glance from your part.

Shit. Shit. He actually did have to pass this class, otherwise his overbearing soccer coach would kick him off the team. He stared down at your number, wondering what he would have to do to get you to cut him a little slack and forgive him for absolutely forgetting about your existence. 

—

“Hey, this is Jungkook” the text from an unknown number said “looking forward to us working together. We should get dinner sometime, get to know each other better.”

You read over the text once more, willing your heart to slow down its beating. Sure, Jungkook was charming and handsome, but you had seen this dance before. He would talk his way into your good graces, making you laugh and giggle until you had a four thousand word essay done with both your names in it and your texts to him would go unanswered and unseen. 

This was not your first hurtful rodeo. You put your phone away, facing down, ignoring as the poor device vibrated itself off the table with the upcoming texts.

Meanwhile, across campus, Jungkook was fuming.

“Or breakfast. We should get breakfast. I know a great place.” he tried once again, but his message was left unread. Still, he persisted.

“I have a lot of great ideas for this assignment. Don’t you want to know them?” he texted, even though he didn’t have the faintest idea on what the assignment was even about.

“You know, it’s rude to leave a guy hanging.”

“How can we do this if you won’t even text me back?”

“I thought we were in this together.”

“You know, like High School Musical.”

He kept typing out absurdity after absurdity, hoping you would dignify one with an answer. He just needed one opportunity, one opening…

His text stopped going through.

“She blocked me!” he gasped out loud.

“Who?” his roommate, Taehyung asked from where he laid on their couch, feet up on the coffee table.

“This girl in my class. We have this project together and she blocked me!”

Taehyung sent a disbelieving look his way “Were you actually planning to do the work?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Obviously not.”

His friend rolled his eyes “Obviously not. So what’s your plan here?”

Jungkook didn’t answer, too busy looking for alternative ways to contact you. After a few minutes of research, he found your Instagram. You were cute, he noticed again, scrolling through your few posts, all relatively recent. You had a very specific style, a tasteful mix or dark and edgy with splashes of pink and bows, tight corsets under leather jackets that he couldn’t help but stare appreciatively, the flattering material clinging to your waist line and pushing your breasts up, exposing the soft freckled top of cleavage to his always hungry eyes. In your pictures, your eyes shone brightly, crinkling at the sides from your ever present smile and he could not understand why you hadn’t directed one of those to him. 

It was unsettling, to say the least, but he could not allow his annoyance to take over. He needed your help if he wanted to pass that class and if he had to use unconventional ways to get your attention, he would. 

And so, much like a little boy pulling at a girl’s braids, he started liking and spamming the comments of every single post you had.

—

There were whispers all around you, your worst nightmare.

You were at the school library, getting work done while drinking from your fourth cup of coffee, hands shaking due to caffeine and anxiety, your ever present friends. You tried to focus on your books and carefully written notes, but every word you could barely hear and every look you felt over your shoulder seemed to dig claws into your skin. You knew what they were saying. You heard it all the way from your dorm to your classes and couldn’t seem to escape them. 

“Did you see Jungkook’s comments on her pictures? What’s that about?”

“It’s not like there’s a lot to comment, is there?” 

“Maybe he thought it was someone else?”

“It’s probably a prank.”

“I bet he was hacked.”

Of course, why else would someone like Jungkook - a campus prince, popular soccer player, heartthrob - show interest in you? 

It hurt, but a small part of you still agreed with those mean spirited whispers. You closed your eyes, trying to even your breathing and will those thoughts away. You knew better, had learned better than to measure your value by how interested some boy was in you.

When you opened your eyes again, Jungkook was in front of you.

You barely had time to process his presence when the voices picked up volume, your skin prickling and eyes aching to remain dry. 

“What’s Jungkook doing with Fat Y/N?”

That word shouldn’t be as hurtful as it was - after all, it was just an adjective, just the current state of your body that served only to carry your thinking mind, your feeling heart. But people always said it like a curse, wielding it like a sword.

You closed your eyes again and when you opened once more, Jungkook was still there. Looking furious.

��What are they saying?”

“What they always said” you shrugged, avoiding his eyes by looking down at your papers.

Jungkook didn’t move for a while, hearing people pretend to whisper around you but it was clear that the motherfuckers wanted you to hear. Was it always like this for you, he wondered, watching as you focused on whatever book you had in front of you, hunched over with tense shoulders, your face a far cry from the luminescent one he saw on your Instagram, not a hint of that smile he wanted directed at him so unreasonably.

He couldn’t just stand there and watch you struggle to keep your posture. 

You felt him standing up and leaving more than you saw him. Good, you thought. He should leave, like everyone did, scared away by that one word that followed you around like a brand. He was probably embarrassed to be seen with you, you assumed bitterly, and there was no place in your life for people who didn’t want you proudly by your side…

Jungkook sat back in the chair in front of you and you couldn’t help but gape at the impressive bouquet of red daisies he extended towards you.

“Take it” he said, but you couldn’t move, could barely hear the furious voices around you over the roaring beat of your heart.

You… You had never gotten flowers. 

“Take it” he repeated “I almost got run over because of this, the least you can do is accept it.”

“Jungkook” you whispered, dumbfoundedly accepting the bouquet “what’s this?”

“People keep doubting I could be interested in you” he said and there was an edge to his tone you did not expect “maybe this could help clear up some rumors.”

“This is not your battle to fight” you held the flowers close to your chest carefully, looking up at him with distrust, unable to understand his motives “I’m used to this sort of thing and I don’t care about those stupid rumors.”

You were used to it? That just made Jungkook angrier. How could you be used to that sort of treatment? 

Jungkook was a lot of things - spoiled, a little lazy, sometimes a dick. But he wasn’t a bigot and he wasn’t about to stand around and let you become used to being disrespected if there was something - anything! - he could do about it “I like picking up fights”.

“Is this just pity?” you asked and he could see walls around you that stood thousands of feet tall “Is this because of that stupid assignment? Because I’m not going to do all the work just because you got me some flowers…” 

He raised his hands and smiled at you “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll do my work” he said, a new goal in mind as he saw you recoil from him with eyes filled with wariness like a suspicious kitten “You said once a week, right? How’s friday for you?” 

You still clung to your bouquet like a lifeline “That works, I guess.”

“Great!” he clapped loudly, standing up and catching the eye of those around him “I’ll see you around, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart” you mumbled, but he pretended not to hear as he crossed the table around to your side, quickly leaving a kiss to your heated cheek before you had the chance to react.

“Alright, sweetheart, I’ll see you around” he said, making sure everyone in the library could hear him “do me a favor and unblock me, ok?”

You flipped him off, both for stealing a kiss and that stupid nickname, but he just laughed it off.

“That’s my girl” he said and the library erupted in renewed whispers.

°•. ✿ .•°

𝐌𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧! 𝐂𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝

°•. ✿ .•°

[Red Daisies taglist: @purplelady85 ]

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