#crazy. they are the same. they are the opposite.

[poguehearted77]

Imagine y’all just had the fight of your lives (maybe over his dumb gun or something equally Rafe), but later when you’re lying on opposite sides of the bed, he reaches out and pulls you close and says somthing cute or annoying idk And then, oh my GOD—it’s slow, emotional, and HOT because making up with Rafe would be next-level intense. please i NEEED😫😩

OH MY GOD YES. SOME SWEET RAFE AND EVEN SWEETER MAKE UP SEX AFTER A HUGE FIGHT. NEED IT.

#2 from my drabble game

smut: penetrative sex, some praise, I love you's, unprotected sex

Rafe is in deep shit.

You know that, he knows that-- hell, even your pet beagle, Poppy knew it. For once, she bolted away the moment the front door opened, and your oh-so-handsome, conniving and deceitful boyfriend walked in instead of running towards him.

Rafe is a dead man walking. How ironic would it be if he were to die at your hands with the very same gun he'd promised you he'd gotten rid of.

His body goes rigid when he sees the weapon in your palm. A nervous gulp falls down his throat as he does his best to stand tall. "Where did you get that?" That's what he asks you, he should've never opened his mouth.

You scoff immediately, carelessly angling it around as your upset mannerisms control your arms. "Get it? You mean where did I find it." He doesn't respond which is a wise choice.

"Mr. Montogommery called me earlier, he was looking for you--said you weren't answering your phone. He asked me to leave you a message," You're pacing now, and it made Rafe nervous. You're a little crazy, but so was he. It's why you went so well together.

"Like the good girlfriend I am, I opened your office drawer for a sticky note to leave on your desk, but what did I find? The same gun you told me would never be back in the house, Rafe are you serious?!" Your arms are flailing and he's half-certain he'll catch a stray by the end of the conversation.

He steps towards you with his hands up cautiously, "Baby, give me the gun, and we can talk about this." You snap, "No! Why should I? You don't trust me with it? Why because it's dangerous? Because it could kill you! You're right, Rafe. Why didn't I think of that sooner--oh wait, I did! And you fucking lied to me, Rafe."

Your voice is enraged and bouncing off the ivory-panelled walls of the house but it dies down to a shaky one as tears threaten to spill over the brims of your eyes. "Y/n-" He holds his hand out for you, but you give him the gun instead.

You execute a sharp pivot on the tips of your toes, ready to walk away from him but he finally speaks up and you stop--not turning around, standing still, anticipating. "I'm not getting rid of the gun." It's all he says.

Had you been in the mood, you would've turned around, lounged at him and strangled him, but no, you just kept walking.

Your bedroom is freezing that night, despite it being the middle of summer, and it only gets colder everytime you glance towards Rafe as he gets ready for the bed you begrudgingly shared.

Your expression remains sour, even in your sleep, no matter how far away from your boyfriend you are. There's enough room to fit a full-grown adult between you. The isolation was holding the production of your melatonin hostage, forcing you both to lay awake, backs facing each other but hearts reaching out.

Rafe flips onto his side, staring longingly at the back of your frame. He missed you and you were right in front of him. "Baby," His voice is soft, and the pet name lands on you gently, a testament that your anger has subsided a bit.

You turn over, choosing to lie on your back and face the ceiling. You deem that he's undeserving to see your face at the moment. "I've got another gun in my nightstand." You blamed your miscomprehension on the late hours of the night because surely he did not just say what you think he said.

Rafe can see the way your chest began to rise and fall at a much more shallow pace, he had about five seconds to start explaining before you turned on him. "I told you about my past. I've done some bad things. 'Burying the hatchet' doesn't exist for everyone, and I want to be prepared for anything. When I look at a gun now, it's not a weapon anymore, it's a tool. It's protection."

Your breathing slowed, a little. He takes it as a good sign. "I can't lose you. If something happened to you when I could've prevented it, I'd never forgive myself, and I know you know that." He's right. You did know that. He dedicated his life to you, making sure that you knew that. "I shouldn't have lied about getting rid of it, and I'm sorry."

Your breathing returns to its normal pace. You lay on your side, now facing him. "Fine." Rafe scoots closer to you, a small grin working its way on his lips. "Fine?" You nod, "Yeah, fine. I forgive you, this time, but don't you ever pull some shit like this again or so help me god I will-" He quiets you with a sweet kiss.

Well, it started sweet at least.

Now you're both watching him slide in. Your warm cunt wrapped around his length delightfully. "You're fuckin' perfect, too good f'me." He groans into your ear. His muscular arms cage you in, and you've decided you'd be more than happy to die between them.

Your soft moans bounced off his brawny chest and right back in your face, "Feels so good, Rafe-" Yougaspedp as he picked up the pace, hips rolling into yours for a much deeper angle. Your back arches off the bed slightly as sweat rolls down your back and sticks to the sheets.

It wasn't long before you were both chasing your highs. Rafe always sounded so fucking hot when he was close, his deep groans pitching up to breathless whines when you purposefully clenched around him, threatening him to fill you up unrestrained. Once you came, he pulled out and finished on your heaving stomach, catching your breath.

He doesn't get off of you just yet. He balances himself on one forearm as the other hand comes up to gently move the strands of hair from your face, "I love you," he means it, his eyes say it when his mouth does. "I love you".

[beckyninja]

Duty

Pairing: Roboute Guilliman x FemReader

Warnings: Nothing much this time, just angst

Description: As further opposition to the alliance between their peoples is revealed, Guilliman's betrothed finally opens up about her past.

Whew! With all the holiday craziness, I didn't think I'd get this posted today. Anyway, I hope you guys don't mind some lore. This is a sequel to Worthy, and a continuation of my Guilliman/Reader story. You can find the other stories in this series on my Masterlist.

In the all but empty Communications Center, Guilliman stared at the holographic image of Captain Takahashi. His Admechs and the Captain’s technicians had finally managed to cobble together an interphase between the two ships’ communications systems. Still, the Captain’s image flickered and lagged as she spoke.

“...have rooted out two more conspirators, Lord Guilliman. A pair of sanitation specialists. They attempted to take control of my ship’s steering mechanism.”

Guilliman clenched his gauntleted fist. “That makes seven attempts to date.”

“All of which we have discovered and stopped.”

“To your credit, Captain.”

The woman nodded curtly. “All the same, I agree it remains too dangerous to allow the Lady Heir to return on a permanent basis. Though, she will still need to send the first message to our homeworld once we are in range.”

“In two standard days.”

“Yes.”

Guilliman shook his head in wonder. Even in the time of the Great Crusade, such long range communication, without the aid of Astropaths, was more fantasy than reality. He added it to his mental list of technologies to acquire once the treaty was formalized.

“You will be sending the conspirators over for interrogation.”

The Captain’s eyes turned icy. “I will. Though I expect it will be more of the same.”

Guilliman scowled. During each interrogation, an implant of some kind had activated a small electromagnetic pulse within the prisoners’ brains, eradicating all higher functions. Only the first, the former Lord O’Rourke, had managed to give them any information before his unexpected lobotomy.

“Captain, you promised to clarify a few details from the first interrogation when last we spoke.”

For the first time, Captain Takahashi looked uneasy. Her eyes flickered behind Guilliman.

He understood. “Sicarius, await me outside. And see that none enter.”

He heard Cato’s teeth grinding as he obeyed.

“Forgive my hesitance, Lord Guilliman.” The Captain frowned. “But what I am about to reveal would no doubt be considered treasonous by my superiors.”

“I am grateful for your trust, Captain.”

Her frown softened. “I have come to believe we both have the Lady Heir’s best interests at heart.” She clasped her hands behind her back. “You told me how O’Rourke mentioned his orders came from a ‘prince’, someone he believed to be the true heir to our world.”

Guilliman nodded. He had long suspected your home to be less peaceful than you implied. Your obvious discomfort whenever the topic arose, the way you dodged the subject with the skill of an Aeldari warrior, and, of course, the continued sabotage attempts by your entourage did little to persuade him otherwise.

His logical mind knew the value of this alliance and the technology it would bring to the Imperium. But, in his deepest soul, none of that mattered. Someone was trying to take you from him. You. 

Only centuries of practice hid his churning rage.

The Captain continued. “As you know, our world is led by the Matriarch. She had three children, all who have since died. My Lady is the only child of her eldest and, under our laws, the Heir. But she has two cousins, the two princes.”

Guilliman’s lips twisted sardonically. He’d dealt with enough Imperial nobility to be more than aware of the twists and turns of dynastic politics. Part of him felt saddened at the thought that you came from a family afflicted with such foolishness.

And yet, he bit back a bitter laugh, was my own “family” so different?

“Her Grace has made no secret of her preference for my Lady’s eldest cousin. He is a charismatic young man, currently riding high on the glory of military success.” The Captain paused, looked uncertain, then continued. “In my opinion, Lord Guilliman, the Matriarch purposely isolated my Lady so she could not compete with her cousin’s popularity.” 

A shrewd move. Guilliman had to admit. 

No one who had ever met you and experienced your thoughtfulness and compassion could doubt your potential for popularity with the masses. How quickly you’d won the adoration of his own serfs proved that. Not to mention the progress you’d made among the Ultramarines.

“You think he is the ‘prince’ who gave O’Rourke his orders.”

The Captain frowned. “Possibly. The other option is the younger cousin. He’s rumored to be quite intelligent, but the Matriarch destined him for holy orders. He’s been sequestered in one of our scholastic monasteries since he came of age.”

Guilliman narrowed his eyes. “If dealing with my own Ecclesiarchy has taught me anything, it is that the lust for power can infect even the holiest-seeming priest.”

“Indeed.”

Guilliman stared through the Captain’s image, mind working. Too many variables. Not enough data.

“What do you believe, Captain?”

The Captain looked him in the eye. “Whoever gave the orders is irrelevant. I believe this mission was supposed to fail. All of us, myself, my crew, and the Lady Heir were supposed to die at Imperial hands.”

Yet again, Guilliman found himself impressed by this tiny baseline woman’s strength of will. “Thus removing the only obstacle to a prince’s rise to power, and ensuring your world’s continued isolation.”

“Yes.” The Captain’s lips lifted into a slight smile. “But no one back home foresaw this particular turn of events.”

Guilliman huffed a laugh. “Nor did anyone here.” His mirth was short-lived. “Once my betrothed sends her message, however, the game changes.”

“And all Void will break loose. She needs to be made aware.”

Therein lay the crux of the problem. How much did he tell you? How much did you already suspect?

“I agree.”

The Captain must have seen something in his face. “You said once that she’s stronger than she looks, Lord Guilliman. I assure you, it’s true.”

Strong in some ways, yes. But so, so fragile in others.

***

“Fascinating, Brother Tarchus. Remind me which section of the Codex that is again?” You smiled up at the Ultramarine, stylus and dataslate in hand.

“Certainly, my Lady. Chapter 647, Section F, Subsection B-14, Paragraph 54….” 

You scribbled frantically. “Ah, yes. Thank you. I have it now.” I think. “And why would you say this is your favorite passage?”

The giant warrior actually looked excited. “The minutiae of supply lines, especially to besieged worlds, is an excellent example of the importance of efficiency and practicality in uncertain circumstances.”

There. Something you could grasp. “The creation of order in the midst of anarchy?”

“Precisely.” You swore the Ultramarine almost smiled.

“In times of uncertainty, the order brought by the Ultramarines must be a great comfort to Imperial citizens.”

Tarchus cocked his head to one side. “I suppose that is one of the outcomes.”

“A beneficial one, surely.” You continued. “A fearful population is vulnerable to manipulation, whereas a population confident in its protectors is steadfast and resilient.”

“I had not considered.”

“Something to think about, yes?”

The Ultramarine looked thoughtful. “Perhaps.”

“Well, I should not keep Lord Guilliman waiting. Thank you for taking the time to explain more of the Codex Astartes to me, Brother Tarchus. It was kind of you.”

He nodded. “I found the conversation stimulating, my Lady.”

“I should like to continue in the future, if we may.”

“I…am amenable to that suggestion.”

You gave him a final nod, smiled again, and stepped past him into Guilliman’s chambers. Once through, you couldn’t hold back a laugh of triumph. 

Your betrothed looked up at you from his place behind his desk. “And what has you so giddy this evening, my love?”

He stretched out a hand, and you hurried to his side. “I managed to engage Brother Tarchus in conversation just now!”

“Indeed? It was my understanding he was being particularly stubborn.”

“Ah, but I believe I’ve found the key to an Ultramarine’s hearts.” You smiled slyly up at him.

He chuckled. “Enlighten me.”

“I simply get them talking about the Codex Astartes. It seems to be their favorite topic.”

“Believe me, I am aware.” He lifted his eyes to the ceiling and gave a dramatic shake of his head. “You have swept all before you, my Lady. Are none of my sons safe from your wiles?”

You rolled your eyes. “You know at least one is.”

“Cato can be… difficult.”

To put it mildly. You pursed your lips.

Guilliman ran a finger along your jawline. “Do not fret. You cannot help but be beloved by all in time.”

You felt heat rush to your face. “What…what happened to your ‘no touching’ rule?”

A flash of mischief in his blue eyes was the only warning you received before you found yourself hoisted up and deposited in his lap. You gasped and caught yourself with outstretched hands against his massive chest.

“Roboute!”

An arm of steel wrapped about your shoulders, pinning you against him. “I thought depriving myself entirely of your touch would cool my ardor. Instead, it seemed to have the opposite effect.”

His head lowered, lips just shy of your own, as his voice dropped to the rumbling growl you loved. “Instead, I have decided to allow myself a few…small���indulgences….”

You melted into his arms when he kissed you, slowly and deeply.

An eternity, and yet not nearly long enough, later, he pulled away and smiled down at you. You rested your head against his chest and closed your eyes. 

This. If I could just have this, forever, I would be satisfied.

“My love, we need to talk.”

“Mmm?” 

The double beat of his hearts soothed you. You realized you could easily fall asleep like this, cradled in his arms, safe.

“It is time you told me more of your family.”

Your eyes snapped wide. “What?”

No. No no no. I’m not ready!

His arm tightened slightly around you, as if he feared you’d bolt. You considered doing exactly that.

“Captain Takahashi contacted me this morning.” Guilliman’s voice was kind, but firm. “There was another sabotage attempt.”

You jerked upright. “Was anyone hurt?”

“No. The Captain’s men-at-arms are skilled. But the fact remains,” he brought his other hand to your chin, holding it in place, “they were following orders from a prince of your house.”

Two faces appeared unbidden in your mind. One, fierce and angular, baring its teeth in a wide grin. The other, rounded and pale, eyes sullen. 

“Victor and Conrad….” You didn’t realize you’d spoken the names aloud until Guilliman reacted.

“Your cousins.”

You couldn’t turn your head away, but you dropped your eyes from his piercing gaze. “Yes. My cousins.”

You didn’t want to think about them. You didn’t want to think about…her. In desperation, you tried a new tactic. Slowly, you moved your hands up Guilliman’s chest, caressing the hard muscle beneath his tunic. 

“Can’t we talk about this later?” You looked up at him through your eyelashes, wetting your lips with your tongue.

His breath stuttered, his eyes going dark and hungry.

You continued exploring his chest with your fingers, feeling rather proud of yourself… until he released your chin and captured both wrists in an iron grip.

“A good attempt.” One side of his mouth tilted upward. “But I will not be distracted.”

Struggling only emphasized your utter helplessness. “Roboute, please.”

“What are you so afraid of, my love?”

Something snapped inside. You snarled at the man you loved.

“I’m afraid of her! My grandmother, the Matriarch, the heartless bitch.” A hysterical laugh burst through your lips. “You think one of my cousins is behind all this? Whoever the saboteurs assumed their orders came from, I guarantee she is the one pulling the strings. She wants me dead.”

You stopped, panting. Guilliman stared down at you. It frightened you how little emotion you saw behind his regal mask.

“Why?”

Why indeed? Why stop now? Let’s air all the family’s dirty laundry.

“She hated my mother first. My mother, her eldest, her legacy. My mother, who threw everything away to sail the stars. My mother, who returned years later, pregnant with an unknown man’s child.” 

You couldn’t have stopped even if you wanted to. The words poured forth like blood from a wound.

“Grandmother banished my mother to an isolated Abbey in the highlands. I was born there, among the Holy Sisters.” You smiled at the memory of happier days. “Mother became their huntress, bringing in game for the larders. During her absences, I learned alongside the novitiates. History, theology, but also botany and bioengineering. I spent hours in their gardens and greenhouses. The Sisters are famed for engineering new forms of plantlife, medicines and textiles as well as food.”

You didn’t see Guilliman anymore. You saw the kindly, wizened Mother Superior, cradling a new strain of vitamin-infused apple in her weathered hands. You saw rows of pungent medicinal herbs swaying in the greenhouses. You saw Mother, laughing, hands outstretched to welcome you into her arms.

“When I was twelve, Mother died on a hunt. I grieved. But I wasn’t alone. The Sisters were my family.” You felt tears coming as you dropped your voice to a whisper. “Then, one night….”

Screams. You jerked awake in your room amongst the other novitiates, all of you bleary-eyed and confused. Light poured through the windows. You heard the hard tramp of boots. The door burst open and Sister Helena fell into the room, shoved from behind. 

“Which one is she?” A harsh voice boomed. 

The man it belonged to stood in the doorway, covered head to toe in tactical armor, brandishing a pistol.

He shouted your name. Sister Helena crouched on the floor, but said nothing. The man snarled and aimed his weapon at her.

“Wait!” You screamed, scrambling out of bed. “It’s me! I’m the one you’re looking for!”

You had no idea why they wanted you. But you weren’t going to let them hurt your family.

The rest of the night was a blur of grasping hands, roaring engines, and bitter cold. They hadn’t let you change out of your nightdress. They hadn’t let you say goodbye.

“The soldiers took me to the Matriarch, my grandmother, who said a plague that had devastated our cities the year prior had killed my two uncles. I was now the heir. Lessons followed. Endless lessons as she tried to force me into the model princess. At first, I resisted. But the consequences….” You shuddered. “I learned to keep quiet. I learned to obey. I learned to fear.”

You felt Guilliman’s hand on your lower back, rubbing circles. Slowly, your surroundings came back into focus.

“Breathe, my love.” His deep voice dispelled the haze of terror. “Just breathe.”

You buried your face in his chest, but words kept coming. “She didn’t want me. Not really. In time, I realized she was using me as a threat to my eldest cousin, Victor. By naming me heir, but promising the position to him if he behaved, she kept him on a tight leash. I was safe for a time. But if I hadn’t proposed this diplomatic mission, my death would have come at her hands sooner or later.”

“You must have known this envoy might have gotten you killed, with or without your family’s interference.” 

“I knew.” You wondered if you sounded as desperate as you felt. “But it was a chance. A way out! I couldn’t stay in that palace anymore, with her and her spies always watching.” 

Another hysterical laugh. “You know Grandmother once refused me meals for an entire week in a fit of rage? I would have starved to death if not for the kindness of the servants. I-I just…I had to…oh, Light help me.”

You wept, clinging to Guilliman, the only solid point in the maelstrom tearing through you. “Don’t let me go, Roboute. Please. Don’t let me go.”

His huge arms tightened further around you. “Never.”

***

Guilliman held you as you sobbed, held you close, and seethed. 

I could raze her planet. I could smother it in steel, snuffing out the lives of everyone who ever hurt her. 

He wouldn’t, though. The cost in innocents would be too high. You’d never forgive him. But still….

“Damn the alliance.” He growled. “Damn the treaty. Let your Matriarch think you dead. Let her think the barbarians of the Imperium slaughtered your entire entourage.”

Your sobs quieted and you looked up at him with wide eyes.

He cupped your face in his palm. “Marry me, return with me to Ultramar, and let me care for you. You need never set foot upon your homeworld again.”

“It would be so easy,” you murmured, closing your eyes, “to just say yes. To stay safely in your shadow and forget everything else.”

“Then say yes.”

A long moment passed in silence. He heard the muted voices outside his office, the omnipresent hum of the great ship, and your beating heart. Then, you opened your reddened eyes.

“I can’t, Roboute.” You seemed calmer now. “I may have originated this plan as an escape from my home, but all the other reasons I gave, I believe in them too. My people need the rest of humanity, and the rest of humanity needs us.”

A mixture of disappointment and sheer awe filled him. How, in the vastness and cruelty of the universe, had he found a woman so perfectly matched to himself?

“I used to dream of running away.” He muttered, only half aware he spoke aloud. “I dreamed of cutting free of the Imperium, of becoming a farmer. An honest, simple life.”

“It sounds lovely.” You smiled sadly. “But we can’t cast duty aside so easily, you and I. We care too much. All we can hope for,” you placed your hand against his cheek, mirroring him, “is to find someone to share that duty with us. Someone to stand beside us. Someone to love.”

“I love you.” Throne, my hearts feel about to burst with it.

“And I you.”

He kissed you again. Soft and gentle and so, so sweet. When he pulled himself away, you tucked yourself back against his chest.

“Forgive me for hiding all this from you, Roboute. I was afraid. I’ve been afraid for so long.”

“There is nothing to forgive.”

“When we reach my homeworld, my family will stand against us.”

Ferocity welled within him. Lifting you in his arms, he carried you to the great viewport and looked out upon the passing stars. Logically, he knew the star your world circled was not among them. 

Still, he issued a challenge.“I am Roboute Guilliman, Lord of Ultramar, Lord Regent of the Imperium, Primarch.” He held you close. “Let them try.”

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[focusonkayjay]

between the ride and the roses (8)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: biker/ motorcycle shop owner! jungkook x flower shop owner! reader, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn, angst, smut, fluff

Word count: 3.7k

Series summary: There's an insane turn of events when your calm and peaceful life is intruded by Jungkook, a biker boy who sets up his loud business right next to your own. Your paths cross under unlikely circumstances, starting with a clash of personalities but gradually you find yourself establishing a deeper connection with the annoyingly attractive biker jerk. You both have no idea what's in store for you guys as you try your best to put up with each other.

Chapter Warnings: tensionnnn, seokjin (you'll see why)

A/N: literally fell in love with this jugnkook as i was writing this chapter. something abt him makes my heart flutter like why don't i have a man like this. AHHHH is the chemistry chemistrying for you guys? let me know your thoughts hehehehe.

part 8: when the camellia revs

The fairgrounds buzz with life as preparations continue, but you manage to steal a quiet moment under the shade of an old oak tree. The wooden bench you share with Sunjae feels like a small oasis amidst the hustle. Around you, the rhythmic sounds of hammering, laughter, and the shuffle of footsteps continue. Yet here, with Sunjae beside you, it feels as though time slows down.

A mischievous glint sparks in your eyes as you nudge him lightly. “So…” you begin, dragging the word out, savoring the way his ears turn pink before you’ve even finished the sentence. “How’s the boyfriend?” you giggle.

Sunjae tries to mask his shyness, but it’s a futile effort. He rubs the back of his neck, his smile growing wider by the second. “Yeonjun’s great." he admits, his voice soft but brimming with affection.

“We moved in together recently, and honestly? It’s been... perfect. He’s been crazy busy with work, but he still does these little things, you know? Leaves notes in my lunchbox, surprises me with flowers. The other day, he even cooked me dinner because I was too tired. I don’t know how I got so lucky.” he says, unable to hide his smile.

Your heart warms at his words. Seeing Sunjae so smitten makes your chest swell with pride and happiness for your best friend. “Oh, please.” you scoff, grinning. “You deserve every ounce of that happiness and so much more. If anyone’s lucky, it’s Yeonjun for having you.” you admit.

Sunjae chuckles, the light in his eyes undeniable. “You always know what to say to make me feel like I’m not completely fumbling through life.” As he speaks, he paints vivid pictures of their life together... how they met at a seminar, how Yeonjun’s attempts at karaoke had sealed the deal, and their shared dream of opening a quaint café someday. You can’t help but smile at his happiness, the way his words pour out like a gentle stream.

“You look well.” you say once he finishes, your voice soft but sincere. “I'm so happy for you, Jae.” you comment and he smiles at the nickname. It feels like he hasn't heard that in ages.

He beams at you, his grin infectious. “I could say the same for you, Y/n. You look… peaceful. I'm guessing your business is doing well, huh?” Before you can reply, an enthusiastic voice interrupts.

“Sunjae? No way!”

You glance up to see Taehyung striding towards you, his wide grin lighting up his face. Namjoon, Seokjin, and Juwon follow close behind, all breaking into delighted smiles at the sight of your old friend.

“Still stealing Y/n’s time, huh?” Taehyung teases, pulling Sunjae into a warm hug. “Some things never change.” Sunjae shrugs as he pulls away, looking towards the others.

The bench becomes a hub of lively chatter as introductions, laughter, and playful jabs fly around. Though Sunjae had grown closer to you over the years, his bond with your group remained intact, and their warmth feels as natural as breathing.

//

The next day dawns with a golden hue spilling across the horizon, but the calm of the morning doesn’t last long. As the sun rises higher, the town square transforms into a hive of activity, buzzing with a sense of urgency. The fair is just a day away, and it seems like everyone is working double-time to ensure everything is perfect.

Vendors rush to set up their stalls, the sound of hammers striking nails mingling with the rustle of fabric as colorful banners and canopies are hoisted into place. Children dart around, their laughter piercing through the air as they weave between workers. Volunteers carry boxes of supplies, their voices blending into a symphony of instructions, encouragement, and occasional exasperation.

You’re busier than ever, balancing tasks between your flower shop and the fair. Deliveries need to be organized, decorations have to be finalized, and last-minute adjustments seem to crop up at every corner. Even as you wipe the sweat from your brow, there’s a sense of exhilaration in the air, the anticipation of tomorrow’s festivities driving everyone forward.

Sunjae is bustling around too, overseeing the setup of a handmade crafts stall he’s managing. Every now and then, he glances your way, offering a quick thumbs-up or a smile, his own excitement mirrored in your expressions.

By mid-morning, your friends have gathered to help where ever they can. Namjoon is reviewing schedules, his meticulous nature ensuring no detail is overlooked.

Seokjin is joking with some of the younger volunteers, lightening the mood despite the frenzy. Juwon is coordinating with the food vendors, her authoritative tone cutting through the chatter, while Taehyung flits between tasks, his energy boundless.

And then there’s Jungkook.

You catch glimpses of him every now and then, his leather jacket swapped for a simple black tee, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his tattooed arm as he unloads heavy crates. The sight of it snaps something inside you and you have to look away to collect yourself.

He works silently but efficiently, his brows furrowed in concentration. Despite the chaos around him, he carries an air of calm focus that you can’t help but notice.

Occasionally, your eyes meet across the crowded square. Each time, it’s fleeting, just a moment before one of you looks away, but it’s enough to send a ripple of something unspoken through the air.

The hours blur together as the sun climbs higher. Despite the hectic pace, there’s a shared unity among the volunteers, an understanding that they’re all working towards something meaningful.

By late afternoon, the square is almost unrecognizable, transformed into a vibrant space brimming with life and color.

But as you glance at the clock, you know there’s still more to be done. The final stretch is here, and tomorrow, the town will come alive in a way that makes all the effort worthwhile.

For now, you push forward, the excitement bubbling beneath the surface, ready to see it all come to life.

//

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting a golden glow across the fairgrounds, Mr. Jung’s voice booms from the gazebo. “Everyone! Can I have your attention?” he calls, clapping his hands. The volunteers pause their work, turning to face him.

“To thank all of you for your hard work, we’re hosting a little barbecue right here tonight." Mr. Jung announces, his smile wide. “Consider it a token of our appreciation. You’ve earned it!”

A ripple of cheers and applause follows, and your friends exchange gleeful glances. “Free food?” Seokjin exclaims, clutching his chest as if overwhelmed. “It’s a dream come true.”

“I’m claiming the first plate!” Juwon declares, practically bouncing on her toes. “Not if I get there first,” Taehyung counters, already sprinting toward the gazebo.

The group bursts into laughter, following him in a loose, carefree parade. The atmosphere is electric, buzzing with excitement for the evening ahead. After days of hard work, this feels like the perfect way to unwind... a celebration of effort, friendship, and shared memories.

As the preparations wind down and the golden hour fades into twilight, the barbecue at the gazebo comes alive. Bright fairy lights strung around the wooden structure cast a warm glow over the gathering, making the evening feel almost magical.

The air is filled with the enticing aroma of grilled meat and roasted vegetables, mingling with the faint scent of flowers still lingering from the day’s decorations.

You find yourself seated on the cool grass with Sunjae and your friends, the laughter and chatter creating a cozy bubble around you. Plates of food are passed around as everyone digs in, their voices blending with the soft strumming of a guitar someone brought along.

Namjoon is in the middle of telling a ridiculous story about one of his childhood escapades, which has Seokjin doubling over with laughter while Taehyung and Juwon argue about its authenticity.

The atmosphere is laid-back yet so so rewarding, just a close-knit group of volunteers unwinding after days of hard work. It’s one of those rare moments when you feel completely at peace.

Sunjae leans back beside you, his head tilted towards the sky as he points out a constellation he learned from Yeonjun. His excitement makes you smile, and you can’t help but feel immense joy for your best friend, who seems to have found his place and love in this world.

But amidst the relaxing chaos, there’s a tension simmering not far from where you sit. Jungkook has arrived with Yoongi, Hoseok, and Jimin, finally all done with their work for tomorrow.

The group makes their way to the grill, exchanging greetings and grabbing plates of food. Jungkook, however, doesn’t linger with his friends. His gaze immediately shifts to you, sitting closely with Sunjae, the man whose name he had just learned, as both of you laugh together.

His jaw tightens as he observes you leaning towards Sunjae, smiling so brightly it feels like the world revolves around you in that moment. And the man beside you... the same one from earlier who’d already occupied far too much of your attention is the cause of that smile. Jungkook feels his grip on his plate tighten, the urge to look away battling with the undeniable pull of watching you.

Throughout the evening, he steals glances at you. It’s infuriating how effortlessly you seem to light up the space around you. You laugh, tease Taehyung about his mismatched socks, and playfully swat Sunjae’s arm when he mimics Seokjin’s dramatic storytelling. Each stolen glance chips away at Jungkook’s resolve to keep his distance, leaving him restless.

As the night deepens, the cool evening breeze carries with it a sense of tranquility. The gazebo grows quieter, with fewer people remaining. Mrs. Kim, an elderly woman who’s been a pillar of the town’s volunteer efforts for years, approaches you with a soft smile.

“Y/n-ah, can you please fill my water bottle for me? They seem to have run out of water here, and I need to take my medicines now that I’ve eaten.” she says, holding out the bottle. “Your shop is nearby, so I thought I’d ask.”

You nod immediately, rising to your feet. “Of course, Mrs. Kim. I’ll be right back.” you reply warmly, taking the bottle from her. Your shop, just a few meters away from the gazebo, is still illuminated from earlier in the day.

Jungkook watches the interaction from his spot, his gaze sharpening as you walk off into the night with your usual grace. His chest tightens, and before he realizes it, his feet are moving.

He doesn’t know what compels him, but the idea of you being alone, even for a short while sends a strange urgency coursing through him.

Leaving his friends behind, who are too engrossed in their conversations to notice his sudden departure, he slips away. The cool breeze brushes past him as he strides towards your shop, his heart pounding in his chest.

He doesn’t know what he plans to say or do when he catches up to you, but he’s sure of one thing... he can’t keep this longing bottled up any longer.

The bell above the door jingles softly as you enter your flower shop, the familiar scent of blooms and fresh greenery enveloping you. The quiet of the shop contrasts sharply with the lively chatter of the barbecue behind you, making the space feel almost sacred.

You step past the counter and towards the storeroom, where your water filter is kept. It’s a cozy, tucked-away space filled with neatly labeled boxes of vases, floral foam, and ribbons.

The faint hum of the filter greets you as you flick on the light, placing the water bottle on the counter.

Humming softly to yourself, you begin filling it, the cool water rushing steadily into the bottle. While you're still inside, the shop’s door creaks open again and you don't really hear it.

Jungkook steps inside, his boots making almost no sound against the wooden floor as he closes the door behind him, careful not to alert you. The warm glow of the shop lights reflects off the rows of flower arrangements on display, casting soft shadows on the walls.

As he takes a step further in, his gaze locks onto the passage leading to the storeroom. It’s a narrow corridor lined with shelves holding tools and floral supplies. He knows you’re just beyond it. His pulse quickens, his resolve faltering for a brief second before he moves forward, his boots brushing lightly against the polished floor.

In the storeroom, you screw the cap back onto the filled water bottle, ready to return to the barbecue. Just as you turn around, you nearly jump out of your skin at the sight of Jungkook standing in the doorway.

“Jungkook?” you ask, startled. “What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. His dark eyes meet yours, intense and unreadable, and for a moment, the small storeroom feels even smaller. His shoulders are broad, nearly filling the frame of the doorway, and his presence is so palpable it makes your breath hitch.

“I… I saw you leave,” he finally says, his voice low and rough. “Thought I’d check if you needed help.”

You blink at him, confused. “It’s just water, Jungkook. I can manage.” He steps further into the room, closing the door halfway behind him. The quiet hum of the water filter fills the silence between you.

“I know…” he admits, his gaze never leaving yours. “But… I just… I had to see you.”

There’s something in his tone... hesitation, maybe desperation, or even vulnerability that catches you off guard. You clutch the water bottle tighter, unsure of what to say. The tension in the air feels almost unbearable, like a string stretched too thin between you, threatening to snap.

“Why?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his dark hair, clearly struggling to find the right words. “I don’t know.” he admits, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I just… uhh... seeing you with him...”

“Sunjae?” you interject, your brows knitting in confusion. The name tumbles from your lips before you can stop it.

The effect is immediate. Jungkook takes a sudden step forward, his entire frame taut with an energy that feels almost dangerous. His eyes darken, their intensity cutting through you like a blade. “Don’t say his name.” he murmurs, his tone low, sharp, and commanding.

The air between you shifts. When did it get this heavy? You don’t even realize you’re retreating until your back meets the cold wall behind you.

A shiver runs down your spine, though you’re not sure if it’s the chill of the wall or the heat radiating from Jungkook’s advancing figure. The room feels smaller now, the walls closing in, leaving only him and the electricity thrumming between you.

He’s close... too close... and yet not close enough. But he inches forward, the words still hang in the air, and Jungkook hesitates, his frustration now palpable. He reaches out, his hands finding your waist, pulling you towards him. The water bottle slips from your hold, rolling away across the floor.

You’re not sure when the line between resistance and surrender blurred, but here you are, breath hitching as Jungkook’s grip tightens, pulling your body flush against his. The space between seems to vanish.

This moment, so surreal and unexpected, pulls you in. You don’t understand it, but who are you to question it? It feels like this is exactly what you've been craving for days... months... even years.

The warmth of him envelops you, igniting a fire in your chest that spreads to your fingertips. It’s overwhelming and terrifying, but it’s also exhilarating.

“Jungkook…” you whisper, breathless, feeling his body as he pulls you in even closer. His grip tightens, pulling your waist to his as he presses you against the wall, your bodies completely aligned now.

The room seems to shrink, too small, too warm with him so close. His eyes search yours, as if looking for something, and you meet his gaze. His hands, tentative but urgent, slightly slide under the hem of your top near your waist, his fingertips cold against your skin.

You part your lips, letting out a shaky breath, your body responding instinctively. He leans forward, his forehead resting against yours, both of you closing your eyes in the quiet intimacy. The world outside seems to pause, as if holding its breath, waiting for what might happen next.

Your knees weaken, and you grip the collar of his t-shirt, pulling him in closer. The distance between you is evaporating, but just as it feels like everything is about to shift, a loud bang of your store's front door opening from outside the storeroom causes both of you to snap apart, startled.

“Y/n!!!” Seokjin’s voice rings out, cutting through the silence. Him again? Really? you wonder, frustration mixing with embarrassment. This is the second time now.

“Fuck.” Jungkook curses, his hands instinctively covering his face, a flush of heat rushing through him as he tries to regain control of his rapidly escalating emotions.

Seokjin’s voice blares again, louder this time, and that’s when it hits you. He cannot see you like this, especially not with Jungkook.

“Fuck.” you curse under your breath, panic rising. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You scramble to move away from Jungkook, quickly grabbing the water bottle that had been abandoned on the floor.

Jungkook’s eyes widen in confusion, his head tilting slightly. Before he can ask, you hurriedly whisper. “He can’t know you’re in here!” Your voice is urgent, shaking slightly as you glance towards the storeroom door.

Realization dawns upon him like a light switch, and he nods. You're right, someone catching the two of you alone in a secluded space like this? Not good. He rakes his hand through his hair, already understanding how awkward this would look.

“Stay here until you hear us leave.” you plead, your voice barely audible but dripping with desperation. “Please don’t come out for at least five minutes. Promise me!”

Jungkook leans against the wall, arms crossed, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips despite your panic. “Five minutes?” he repeats, teasing lightly, but he nods all the same.

“Yes, five.” you insist, holding up your palm in a gesture for emphasis, fingers spread wide. You’re already backing towards the door, the water bottle clutched tightly in your hands. “Y/n-ah! Are you done yet?” Seokjin’s voice echoes again, impatient.

You close your eyes for a second, taking a deep, calming breath before yelling back. “Coming, Jin !! Just give me a sec !!”

Jungkook chuckles quietly at your flustered state, finding your panic oddly amusing. “You’re really worked up about this, huh?” he lowly murmurs, clearly entertained.

“Not the time.” you hiss, glaring at him before stealing a quick peek behind the door to check if Seokjin has entered the passage. Thankfully, it’s still clear. “Five whole minutes, got it?” you repeat, your tone stern, gesturing the number with your palm again for emphasis.

Jungkook leans casually against the shelf, his smirk growing. “Yes, boss.” he teases lightly, earning an exasperated roll of your eyes. Satisfied, you push the storeroom door open just enough to slip out. But as Jungkook watches you leave, his amusement is replaced by surprise when you suddenly pause.

Before he can process what’s happening, you turn on your heel and bolt back towards him, still clutching the water bottle in your hands. His eyes widen in confusion.

You don’t give yourself a second to overthink it. Standing on your tiptoes, you press a quick, feather like kiss on his cheek. Your lips linger for just a heartbeat before you pull away, the warmth of his skin burning against your own.

“I’ll see you out there.” you whisper, your voice soft and rushed, like a secret carried on the wind. And then you’re gone. The door creaks shut behind you, leaving Jungkook standing there, frozen in your storeroom. His hand slowly rises to touch his cheek where your kiss still lingers, his pulse racing.

An amused chuckle escapes him, low and disbelieving. He doesn’t move for a moment, still processing, before shaking his head with a small laugh.

Five minutes, huh? He’ll give you ten, if only to catch his breath.

//

Seokjin is here because, unbeknownst to you, you’d been gone far longer than you realized. As the two of you step out of the shop, his curious gaze falls on you. “What took you so long?” he asks, his tone casual but laced with mild concern.

Your mind races, briefly recollecting the moments that delayed you. Heat rises to your cheeks, but you quickly mask it, shrugging as you reply. “The water filter was acting up.”

Seokjin nods, accepting your explanation without question, and together, you make your way back to the bustle of the town square. The hum of laughter and chatter grows louder as you rejoin the crowd gathered near the gazebo.

Spotting Mrs. Kim, you walk over, handing her the filled water bottle with an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry for the delay.” you say earnestly. She waves you off with a warm smile, her kind demeanor easing the guilt that lingers in your chest. “It’s no trouble, dear... Thank you.” she sweetly says.

Minutes pass as you blend into the sea of familiar faces. Yet, your gaze is restless, scanning the space almost instinctively until it lands on him.

Jungkook.

He crosses the street with practiced ease, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans as he moves towards the gazebo where his friends sit. Though he tries to appear nonchalant, there’s a subtle weight to his stride, as though he’s aware of your eyes on him.

As he reaches his group and takes a seat, his dark eyes flicker across the crowd, until they lock with yours. And this time, the glance isn’t fleeting.

For the first time, the world doesn’t rush to pull you apart. His gaze holds yours, steady and unguarded, and you feel the edges of the universe blur. A shy smile tugs at his lips, one that mirrors your own, and in that moment, the air shifts.

It’s as though the tension that had wrapped so tightly around you both has unraveled, replaced by something gentler, warmer, a connection that hums like a quiet melody between your souls.

The world around you fades into a hazy backdrop. The night feels alive, not with chaos, but with a strange, unspoken understanding that flows between you and him like an electric current.

Soon enough, the barbecue flames dwindle, leaving behind glowing embers, and the volunteers begin to disperse, bidding each other goodnight. The air fills with the promise of something grand, a collective anticipation for tomorrow's fair.

The town settles under a blanket of stars, its streets shimmering with the preparations for the festivities to come. As your friends get ready to leave for the night, you glance towards the gazebo one last time, catching a glimpse of Jungkook as he laughs at something Yoongi says. He doesn’t look your way again, but that’s okay.

With a deep breath, you let the cool night air fill your lungs and start walking towards your shop, ready to lock up and head home. A quiet sense of peace settles within you, as if the evening had unfolded just as it was meant to... full of moments both subtle and meaningful.

<- part 7 // part 9 (coming soon) ->

series masterlist

taglist:@kimyishin @ghijkd @dolligguk @mimi1097 @jksusawife @yooforeaa @abbie1847 @myjungkookthighs @thesarcasmqueen-22 @fairypjminie @lovelytaes-blog @jjeonjjk7 @daddyjeonnn @vantelover1306 @jeeykey @shellyyy177 @daskewl @blackswan18 @korian97 @minimoninini @ericawantstoescape (lmk if i missed anyone<3)

[sabrinasopposite]

don’t you want me like i want you?

clark kent x guitarist!reader

don’t you want me

like i want you baby?

sleep tonight but tonights going crazy

meet me at the…. APT.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

For some, music is a companion—a loyal shadow that lingers, a daily necessity. But for others, it’s more. It’s everything. They don’t just hear it; they see it in the shifting hues of the sky, feel it in the vibration of the earth, live it in every heartbeat. For them, music isn’t a sound; it’s a language, a lifeline, a mirror.

For y/n, it was all of that and more. It was a sanctuary, the only way to release the emotions she couldn’t quite speak aloud. Music was her escape—a getaway car racing through uncharted roads. Plug in the headphones, press play, and suddenly, the world became a little softer, a little brighter. It was like being handed a map to a place only she understood.

But sometimes, the search for new music felt like a hunt—a quest for the perfect sound that could stir her soul, rekindle a spark, or provide the soundtrack for a moment she hadn’t yet lived. For y/n, this hunt was eternal, an ache as familiar as the chords of her favorite songs.

She had arrived in Smallville just weeks ago, a town so quiet it seemed like it could have been plucked from the second verse of a Radiohead track—melancholic yet oddly serene, with beauty tucked between its stillness. It was a far cry from the electric heartbeat of New York City, where she’d spent most of her life.

Smallville felt like a genre she’d never chosen—like a punk rocker trying to write country ballads. You either adapted and found the rhythm, or you didn’t. Y/n wasn’t sure yet which way it would go.

New York had been loud, chaotic, a symphony of endless possibility. Smallville was... still. Too still. But in that stillness, y/n found space to think—a fact that scared her more than she cared to admit. Change was like hearing a song for the first time: jarring, unfamiliar. But sometimes, if you gave it a chance, the melody could surprise you.

Her first days in Smallville were spent wandering its streets, letting herself get lost, hoping to stumble upon something—a spark, a rhythm, a new favorite lyric in this quiet album of a town. High school loomed on the horizon, another challenge she wasn’t ready to face. Her only solace was her family: her parents and her older brother, Theodore.

Theodore was her opposite in some ways but her twin in one crucial aspect—music. While she craved the melancholic poetry of The Smiths and the atmospheric pull of Fleetwood Mac, Theodore was all raw energy. His heroes were The Clash and the Sex Pistols, their messy rebellion plastered all over his bedroom walls.

Their playlists were mismatched, but their shared passion for sound connected them like two strings on the same guitar.

“You listen to sad music,” Theodore teased one night as she scribbled lyrics in her worn notebook.


“And you listen to angry music,” she shot back, smirking.


“Anger gets things done. What does sadness do?”
“It makes you feel,” she replied simply, her words trailing into the hum of a record spinning in the background.

It was during one of her aimless walks through Smallville that y/n saw it—a poster taped to a lamppost, its bold letters practically leaping off the page:

“LIVE MUSIC! TALON EVERY FRIDAY NIGHT!”

Her heart skipped, the words striking a chord in her chest. She’d passed the Talon a few times—a cozy coffee shop with an unassuming exterior—but now, it gleamed with possibility.

A smile crept across her face, bright and mischievous like the neon ink on the poster. Maybe this is it, she thought. A way to feel like herself again. To stop feeling like a background instrument in her own life.

She ran her fingers over the strap of her guitar case later that night, her mind racing. She hadn’t performed since New York—a string of open mics where she poured her heart out to strangers in dark rooms. But this felt different. This felt like the start of a new setlist.

Theodore didn’t take much convincing. Over dinner, she pitched the idea “Live music at this place called the Talon. Friday night. Let’s go.”


“You mean you should go,” he replied with a smirk. “With your brooding Smiths covers.”


“And you can bring your chaotic drum solos,” she countered, grinning. “Fine. But I get to pick one song,” theodore said, his grin mirroring hers.

🖤

As the days rolled by, the night of the Talon finally awrrived. y/n had been counting down to it, her excitement mingling with nervous energy.

The Talon wasn’t just any coffee shop—it was the place to be in Smallville. By day, it was a cozy corner where locals sipped lattes and caught up on homework. By night, it transformed into a buzzing hub for the town’s younger crowd, especially students from Smallville High.

Lana Lang, a fellow student, was the mastermind behind it all. Running the Talon was more than just a job for Lana—it was her dream, a vision she’d nurtured into reality. She’d given the shop a unique vibe, blending vintage cinema posters and retro lighting with warm, earthy tones that made it feel timeless. The Talon was Lana’s way of shaping the world around her, just like music shaped y/n’s.

For y/n, tonight was about sharing her heart through her guitar. But for Clark Kent, tonight was about surviving his friends’ enthusiasm.

Clark hadn’t planned on going. Events like this weren’t his thing—too loud, too crowded, and not exactly farm-boy friendly. But Chloe and Pete had been relentless.

“Come on, Clark!” Chloe said, practically dragging him along Main Street. “You can’t spend every Friday night doing farm stuff or staring at your ceiling. Live a little!” Yeah, man,” Pete added. “The Talon’s where it’s at. Music, coffee, and a crowd that’s actually, you know, alive. It’s way better than your barn.”

Clark sighed, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. “I don’t even like these kinds of events. You guys know that.”

“That’s because you’ve never given them a chance,” Chloe said with a knowing smile. “And besides, Lana’s worked really hard to put this together. The least you can do is show up and support her.”

Clark glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. “So this is about Lana.”

“No,” Chloe replied quickly—too quickly. “It’s about live music. Supporting local talent. Being a good friend. And, okay, maybe it wouldn’t kill you to, you know, talk to her while you’re there.”

Pete laughed. “Clark Kent, master of subtlety. I bet he stands in the corner all night, sipping coffee and avoiding eye contact.”

Clark shook his head but couldn’t suppress a small smile. “Fine. I’ll go. But only for a little while.” Chloe and Pete exchanged victorious looks as they stepped into the Talon.

The place was already packed, the buzz of conversation and laughter filling the air. Y/n and Theodore arrived early, her guitar slung over her shoulder and his drumsticks sticking out of his back pocket. Theodore had been grumbling about being dragged out of the house, but Y/n could see the glimmer of excitement in his eyes.

Clark, on the other hand, stuck close to Chloe and Pete, scanning the room. The warmth of the fairy lights and the smell of coffee filled the air, and despite himself, he felt a bit more at ease.

“See?” Chloe said, nudging him. “This isn’t so bad, is it?”

Clark shrugged but stayed quiet. His eyes wandered to the small stage at the far end of the shop, where musicians were setting up. He didn’t recognize anyone, but something about the electric energy in the air made him pause.

🖤

Meanwhile, Y/n was standing offstage, tuning her guitar and stealing glances at the growing crowd. Her nerves were starting to show, but Theodore gave her a reassuring nudge. “You’ve got this,” he said, tapping his drumsticks against his leg.

“Thanks,” she replied, trying to steady her breathing. This was it—the start of something new, in a place she was still trying to call home. And as the first chords echoed through the Talon, the crowd quieted, and all eyes turned to the stage.

y/n stood at the center of the small stage, her white guitar resting comfortably in her arms, as if it had always been there. Her outfit—a mix of rockstar glam and effortless charm—caught the light just enough to make her seem larger than life.

She looked like the kind of girl people might describe as a "rockstar’s girlfriend," but there was no mistaking her presence. She wasn’t anyone’s shadow; she was the main event. A free spirit with fire in her veins and a guitar that held all the words she couldn’t speak aloud.

Her style might have turned heads, but it was her eyes that truly shone under the purplish lights. They sparkled with the energy of someone who had something to say and wasn’t afraid to let the music do the talking.

The room buzzed softly with conversation as she stepped up to the mic. She leaned in, her lips curling into a playful grin. “Hi, everyone,” she began, her voice warm but laced with the sharpness of her New Yorker accent. “Hope you guys are ready for something a little... rocky tonight.” She chuckled, the sound carrying through the room like the first strum of a chord.

y/n scanned the small crowd of the Talon, her heart pounding. The faces staring back weren’t familiar, but that didn’t matter. She wasn’t performing for recognition. This was her way of speaking to the world, of sharing her stories—even if some of those stories were ones she’d only imagined.

Love, for instance. It wasn’t something she’d experienced firsthand, but it was a world she often visited in her mind. She’d written countless poems about it, pouring her thoughts into metaphors and melodies.

Tonight, she was ready to turn those words into something real, even if it was just for three minutes under the Talon’s lights. She glanced over her shoulder, locking eyes with Theodore. His drumsticks were poised in his hands, his posture relaxed but ready. She gave him a small nod, a signal to drop the bass and let the rhythm take over.

With that, Theodore struck the first note, a deep, vibrating pulse that seemed to ripple through the room. y/n felt the vibration in her chest, grounding her, reminding her why she loved this. The noise of the crowd softened as the music began to build, pulling everyone’s attention toward the siblings on stage.

y/n closed her eyes for a brief moment, feeling the weight of the guitar in her hands. Then she opened them, her fingers finding the strings instinctively. The first chord rang out clear and strong, cutting through the hum of the room like a declaration.

The song they were playing was called APT, a fun, energetic piece she had written inspired by a drinking game her friend from downtown, NYC had introduced her to.

It was a game called Apteu, and although it was just a silly tradition, it had given y/n the perfect material for a lighthearted, upbeat song. The track was full of energy and rhythm, designed to get people moving and feeling good—just the kind of vibe she wanted to set in this crowded room tonight.

She started to sing, her voice rising and falling with the melody, effortlessly weaving through the rhythm. Her eyes sparkled with passion, each word she sang carrying the weight of emotions she often kept hidden. When y/n sang, it was like she wasn’t just performing; she was living inside the song, letting every note and lyric become part of her. She embodied it, lost in the world of the music, letting it carry her to places she could only dream about.

Her voice was a perfect blend of sweetness and edge, like honey with a kick of spice.

“Don't you want me like I want you, baby?

Don’t you want me like I need you now?

Sleep tomorrow, but tonight, go crazy. All you gotta do is just meet me at the…”

Her voice echoed through the Talon, drawing the crowd into her spell.

Clark, who had been standing in the back, arms folded and quietly observing, found himself completely captivated. His eyes followed y/n as she moved, completely lost in the song, and suddenly, he realized he was too. It wasn’t just the music—it was the way she poured herself into every note, the way she made it feel like her voice was something raw and real, like it had never been rehearsed, only lived.

His friends, Chloe and Pete, were watching him, but Clark couldn’t tear his eyes away. The entire room seemed to pulse with the beat, and y/n was at the center of it, effortlessly drawing everyone into her orbit. He wasn’t sure if it was the way the song felt so alive, or the way y/n seemed so in tune with every word she sang, but there was something about it—something about her—that hit him harder than he expected.

“She’s good,” Chloe whispered, nudging him. ,,Better than good, actually.”

Pete grinned. “I told you. This is way better than farm chores.”

Clark barely heard them. His focus was entirely on y/n, who was lost in the music. Her eyes glinted with emotion, her whole body swaying in time with the rhythm, and Clark felt that strange spark again, like the first crack of lightning on a stormy night. He was drawn to her in a way he didn’t understand, but the more she sang, the more he couldn’t look away.

y/n smiled briefly as she sang, her gaze briefly meeting Clark’s across the room. It was a fleeting moment, just long enough for him to feel something—a connection he couldn’t name, but he couldn’t ignore.

As she finished the song with a flourish, the crowd cheered, and y/n’s face lit up, glowing with the warmth of the applause. But for a brief second, Clark was still caught in the aftershocks of that look, a smile that was just for him—or at least, that’s how it felt.

The crowd cheered, some shouting their praise while others lingered at the edge of the stage, chatting and laughing. y/n was swarmed by a few people who complimented her performance, but she stayed humble, thanking them with a bright smile and an easy laugh. Theodore hung back, his arms crossed over his chest, watching her with a quiet pride.

As the buzz of conversation filled the air, y/n and her brother moved off the stage, standing near the side of the room to catch their breath. Clark, still lost in the aftershock of her performance, was snapped back to reality when Chloe grabbed his arm, pulling him forward.

“Come on, Clark, let’s go say hi! You can't just stand there looking like you’re stuck in a trance,” she teased, her eyes glinting with mischief.

Pete followed, still grinning. “Yeah, man. She’s great, huh? Let’s go talk to her.”

🖤

They walked toward the area where Y/N and Theodore stood, and for a moment, Clark hesitated. His heart was still pounding, and his mind was a little lost in the world he’d just experienced. It was just a song, just a girl—yet, something about the way she’d sung had gotten under his skin. But as they got closer, he found himself caught in the whirl of people milling around, all eager to meet the new musician, all laughing and talking.

“Hey, I just wanted to say you did an amazing job,” Chloe said, reaching Y/N and flashing her a wide smile.

Y/N returned her smile, her eyes still alight from the performance. “Thanks! Glad you liked it. It’s always a little nerve-wracking to play for people you’ve never met.”

“Well, you nailed it,” Pete chimed in. “You’ve got a real gift. And that song—APT—man, that was infectious. You had everyone in here dancing with you.”

Y/N laughed, her voice warm and sincere. “I’m just glad it got people vibing. It’s one of those silly songs, you know? You gotta embrace the fun in it.”

Theodore stood silently beside her, occasionally nodding when someone complimented his drumming, but for the most part, he seemed content to watch his sister shine in the spotlight.

Clark hung back, not sure if he should join the conversation. His mind was still racing with thoughts of Y/N, of how she seemed so at ease on stage, and how her smile had made him feel like they were the only two people in the room. But he didn’t speak up. Instead, he found himself standing just out of reach, watching quietly, unsure of what to say.

After a few moments, the conversation began to drift away from the music, and people started to break off into smaller groups, chatting about other things. Clark felt the opportunity slipping away.

“I guess we should get going,” Chloe said after a while, her tone casual, but there was a hint of something in her voice, like she could tell Clark was still lost in the night’s events. “It’s getting late, and we don’t want to leave our fearless leader to fend for himself.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Pete agreed, giving Clark a playful nudge.

Y/N’s eyes caught Clark’s again as they turned to leave. Their gazes met, and for a heartbeat, it felt like the world paused. But before Clark could say anything—before he could find the courage to step forward and introduce himself—she turned back to talk to someone else, lost in the group.

Clark hesitated, and the moment passed.

“Well, that was… interesting,” Pete said with a grin as they headed toward the door. “You seemed like you were a million miles away, man. You’re telling me you didn’t feel that? She’s something else, huh?”

Chloe gave him a teasing look. “Clark’s not the type to swoon over a girl in a coffee shop, Pete. Let him off the hook.”

Clark didn’t answer. His thoughts were elsewhere, stuck on the look they’d shared. He thought, maybe, there could have been something. But as they walked out of the Talon and into the cool night air, the excitement of the night began to fade, and he couldn’t help but think—he’d probably never see her again.

Y/N looked behind, her gaze following Clark as he walked out of the shop. Her eyes lingered on his tall figure and dark hair—he looked like a soft song, something out of Fleetwood Mac's Dreams or maybe Tears for Fears' Head Over Heels.

Her heart was pounding, maybe from the adrenaline still coursing through her after the performance. Or maybe it was the memory of those ocean-blue eyes.

🖤

The weekend passed, and Monday arrived all too quickly. For some students, it was just another Monday. Clark hadn’t expected to see Y/N again. Hell, he didn’t even know her name or who she was, but a part of him felt like he’d known her forever. Maybe it was the music that surrounded her—the way it made her seem like someone whose story everyone somehow already knew.

He’d thought about her all weekend.

Her song was stuck in his head, just like the memory of those purple lights that seemed to reflect her presence.

But another thought kept creeping in—he’d probably never see her again. She sounded like she came from New York; maybe it had been just a visit. What kind of girl like that would live in Smallville? She seemed like she belonged in a vinyl shop, or in some city where she was constantly surrounded by music.

Yet, as he walked down the hallway of Smallville High, he saw her.

Y/N was leaning against a locker, laughing and talking with Theodore. Her bright smile seemed to light up the entire hallway, and for a moment, Clark felt the world slow down.

He didn’t know what was happening to him. Sure, he’d been shy around Lana earlier that school year, but this was different. He didn’t even know Y/N—he’d only met her eyes across a crowded room. And yet, here he was, feeling… weird.

When their eyes met again, Y/N smiled, a mix of recognition and curiosity. She nudged Theodore and pointed in Clark’s direction.

“That’s the guy from the other two people who congratulated us—Friday night!” she said.

Theodore glanced over his shoulder, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Sis, a lot of people talked to us that night. I barely even remember the girl who gave me her number.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and walked away from her brother, heading straight toward Clark. His steps slowed, but his heart raced faster with every second.

“Hey, aren’t you the guy from the Talon—Friday night?” she asked with a warm smile as she approached him.

Clark blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, yeah. Clark. Clark Kent.”

“Y/N,” she said, extending her hand. Her handshake was firm, confident. “So, do you go to every show, or was Friday just a lucky coincidence?”

“I don’t usually go to shows,” he admitted, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “But maybe… I’ll consider going to more.”

Y/N grinned, her expression easy and relaxed. Something about her grounded him, helping him find his footing. She was tilting her head slightly as if studying him. “You don’t seem like the ‘crowded coffee shop’ type. What pulled you in? Was it the music, or did someone drag you there?”

Clark chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Chloe and Pete—they kind of insisted. Said I needed to ‘get out more.’”

“Sounds like good friends,” she said with a laugh. “It were the two that I talked to— right?”

“Yeah—- they loved it seriously,” Clark admitted. “And I… well, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.” His words came out more honest than he’d intended, and he quickly added, “The music, I mean. You were amazing up there.”

Her expression softened, a touch of surprise flickering in her eyes. “Thanks. That means a lot.” She paused, glancing at him curiously. “So, what do you do? Besides getting dragged to coffee shops by your friends, I mean.”

“Mostly farm stuff,” he replied, his voice carrying a hint of shyness. “My family has a farm just outside of town.”

“That explains the whole ‘rugged, mysterious’ thing you’ve got going on,” Y/N teased, crossing her arms as she leaned against a nearby locker.

Clark laughed, a little flustered. “I don’t think anyone’s ever called me mysterious before.”

“Well, there’s a first for everything,” she said with a playful shrug. Then her tone shifted, becoming more sincere.

Clark smiled and looks at her. ,,And— the guy with the drums was your boyfriend or..?” he said curiously— of course he didn’t want to build up some hopes but, why not asking right?

Her smile widened, and she glanced back toward Theodore, who was still leaning against the lockers, pretending not to listen.

“Well— definitely not. His name is Theodore and he is my older brother. He shares the same passion like me— he is more into sex pistols and I am more into the smiths. But music’s always been my thing. It’s… kind of like home, no matter where I am.” she started to ramble— she was quite a talker.

Clark nodded and found that adorable of how she got into a conversation flow. “That makes sense. You looked like you belonged up there.”

Y/N looked at him for a moment, her gaze softening. “Thanks, Clark. Really.” Then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, she added, “So, are you going to stick with the ‘guy who never goes to shows’ routine, or are you thinking about breaking that streak?”

He smiled, shifting his weight slightly. “I guess that depends. Are you playing again soon?”

“Maybe,” she said, clearly enjoying the game. “Guess you’ll have to keep an eye out.”

Clark nodded, his shyness melting away as her energy pulled him in. “I’ll do that.”

“Good,” she said with a soft smile. “See you around, Clark Kent.”

And with that, she turned back to Theodore, leaving Clark standing in the middle of the hallway, feeling like the world had shifted just slightly under his feet.

As he watched her walk away, Pete and Chloe appeared at his side, both smirking.

“Smooth, Clark,” Pete teased. “Real smooth.”

Chloe grinned. “So, is this where we start dragging you to more coffee shop gigs?”

Clark didn’t answer. His gaze was still fixed on Y/N, a small, thoughtful smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “Maybe you should.”

🖤 i hope u guys enjoyed! and stream APT by my girl rosé

[susiekern]

4:40pm.

a/n: first post, so hello to anyone who wanders here, this is just something that popped into my head after binge watching jjk last week

obviously oc in jujutsu kaisen universe, Gojo is a simp, probably out of character but let me enjoy thingss

also english is not my first language, it wasn't proofread by anyone

hope you enjoy and welcome to my madness

word count - 2,427

It was an early afternoon when the first-years were heading towards the training stadium. Chatting about something Panda said over lunch, soft laughs filled the calm autumn scenery, bringing a soft smile to Gojo’s face.

“I think Maki was right about it, don’t you, Yuji?” Kugisaki turned to look at the boy over her shoulder, only to notice he slowed down and his gaze lingered over the main gate. “Yuji?”

“You okay, Itadori?” Gojo stopped right next to him, and he could swear there was a glimmer of Sukuna’s marks on his face, that disappeared after a second.

“Um, I sensed someone’s energy, and Sukuna is going wild.” He murmured, his words stopping Megumi and Kugisaki mid-step. As they both turned his way, two women climbing the stairs reached their eyesight.

“Oh? Eden?” The black-haired boy whispered, recognizing the older one, and quickly looked at Gojo, who seemed relieved. The younger girl, probably around their age, was the reason for Sukuna’s tantrum, he guessed. Even from this distance, all four of them could feel powerful cursed energy flowing from her body, and Fushiguro couldn’t help but notice it felt oddly similar to the energy he felt when Yuji ate the cursed finger.

“Oi, Satoru! You’ll help me with the bag or just keep staring?” The woman who Megumi called Eden waved her hand at them and smirked.

For a moment, Kugisaki focused on her and nearly sighed in awe. She was beautiful, with long black hair pulled into a half-updo situation, fair skin, big eyes, a thin scar over the bridge of her nose, and a full-black outfit that fitted her toned body. But what almost got that sigh out of Nobara was the fact you could tell she was strong. She had that presence, similar to Gojo or Nanami; when one looks their way, made you shiver with respect. And it wasn’t her scar or tattooed arms, it was her energy.

The younger girl was almost the opposite. Blonde, nearly white hair, a baby blue dress, and nerves written all over her face. And as Eden’s energy was balanced, hers was unsettling, flowing in irregular waves.

When their teacher came closer to take the said bag from Eden, he grunted, leaning dramatically to one side.

“For someone who doesn’t carry weapons, your bag is heavier than Maki’s.”

“Shut up, Toru.” She rolled her eyes and closed the distance between her and the students. “So, that’s Itadori Yuji? Sukuna’s vessel?” Before Gojo could answer, she stretched her hand towards Yuji. “Geto Eden, nice to meet you.”

“Geto? As like…?” Kugisaki took a small step back.

“As like Geto Suguru, yes. My younger brother.” Eden nodded, not looking away from Itadori. The pink-haired boy shook her hand after a few seconds, a bit hesitantly. “Tell me, Yuji. Sukuna is aware of everything around you?”

“Y-yes.” Itadori answered when he saw Gojo nod over the woman’s shoulder. “Usually he’s just silent, sometimes he comments a lot, but overall I think he’s aware 24/7.”

“Good. I hope he hears this.” Eden smiled and turned towards her younger companion. “Everyone, this is a new… transfer student. Ayato Izumi, Anahime Saori’s vessel.”

Ever since the evening they merged, Yuji hasn’t once felt Sukuna try to take control like right now. He winced a little, rubbing his temple when the curse started screaming in his domain.

“He heard you. And whatever that means, he’s going crazy.”

“Saori was the same when she first heard about Sukuna.” It was the first time Ayato had spoken since she arrived here, and almost everyone glanced at her. “What? Ah yes, sorry. Nice to meet you all, Ayato Izumi, the vessel and sorceress.”

Her awkward hand wave was reciprocated by the students. Meanwhile, Gojo and Eden exchanged looks that seemed to be a full argument, ending in Eden’s irritated sigh.

“Fine, my goodness. Since this lazy ass who calls himself a teacher won’t do it, I will.” Crossing her arms, she looked at each of them. “Quick history lesson. Anahime Saori was a sorceress in the golden era, one of the greatest. Until she was captured by Sukuna’s minions and brought to him. Suddenly, she’s on a bad side, under his shoe.”

“Bullshit.” Eden was stopped by the curse himself. He gave up trying to take control, popping up as an additional mouth and eye on Yuji’s cheek instead.

“I don’t know if that’s gross or cool.” Woman muttered under her breath. A curse so powerful it was able to manifest on its vessel?

“Saori and I were bonded. In the world of idiots, and as you said, minions, she was my equal.” Sukuna’s words seemed to shock all students except for Ayato.

“Yes, the only living thing you respected.” Eden nodded, happy that her plan to get a reaction from the King of Curses worked. Though she expected him to communicate by Itadori, she was taken aback by the mouth. She took a step closer to the boy and leaned his way. “Now, since you decided to join us, Saori happens to live in Izumi’s body, the same as you live in Yuji’s. So you know the rules, Sukuna. The only reason this girl wasn’t exorcised is that the higher-ups for once listened when I said she could be useful. That her presence would put you in place. Show them I was right, and you might even talk to her again.” Her whisper shut Sukuna up, a growl being his only reaction before the mouth and eye closed and disappeared. “Great! Now, how about you guys show Izumi around and I’ll report to Yaga?”

She nodded at Gojo to follow her and started walking towards the main building. When she passed Megumi, she smiled at him and ruffled his already messy hair. Three, no, four students watched as they made it through the giant door, heading towards the offices. Yuji and Megumi moved their eyes to Megumi.

“Who on earth was that?!” Itadori nearly screamed, feeling how stress was slowly leaving his body. Sukuna seemed to calm down after what the woman said, and his head felt lighter. Was this a proposition? Or a threat? Yuji wasn’t sure.

“Geto Eden.” Megumi shrugged and turned to Izumi to offer help with her bag.

“That we got, but what else?” It was Kugisaki’s turn to ask, her hand on hips, one brow lifted.

“She’s a special grade sorceress, one year older than Gojo, from what I remember. She could seem rough, but she’s nice. She helped him a lot with me and Tsumiki.”

“Yeah, I spent a few days with her, and she seems sweet.” Izumi agreed, passing her bag to Megumi with a thankful nod. Nobara and Itadori decided to drop the topic, at least for now, and introduced themselves properly to the new girl.

“Oh right, I almost forgot, about Eden.” They were all walking to the dorm to show Izumi where everything was located when Fushiguro spoke again. He immediately got everyone’s attention. “She’s engaged. To Gojo.”

“WHAT?!”

---

“I missed you so much.”

As soon as her office door closed behind them, Satoru got her pinned against it, his lips on hers, arms wrapped tightly around her waist.

“Missed you too. I’m never taking such a long mission again.” Eden whispered between kisses, putting her hands on his cheeks. After being away for so long, she’d be happy to stay right here, in his arms forever, but as soon as Gojo’s fingers slipped under her black shirt to graze her sides, he took a step back.

“What is that?” His blindfold was off in a second as he got on his knees before her and pulled the shirt higher, revealing a pale scar.

"Relax, Toru, it’s nothing.” He ignored her, too focused on the line. It was probably a remainder after a cut that started on her side and went down, disappearing under her pants.

“I hate when you go on missions alone.” Slim fingers followed the scar when her own brushed through his white hair.

“It’s a part of the job, Satoru. Besides, I could say the same thing.” Eden sighed and lowered her hands to his chest as her partner stood up. “We both knew what this life looked like. You knew about it first when you asked me to be your girlfriend and then to marry you.”

“I know, I know. It’s just… I feel like I should protect you, and whenever you get hurt, I fail.” A small smile appeared on Eden’s face when he leaned his forehead on hers, his hands back on the woman’s sides.

“I’d love to remind you, I’m as much a special grade as you are, mister bodyguard. I can protect myself. Even though having you by my side all the time sounds nice.” Satoru nodded and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in.

He never appreciated a physical touch as much as he did right now. When one of them had a long mission, and he could finally hold Eden in his arms when they reunited. For the past weeks when she was away, he constantly felt like he was missing a part of himself, a part that now fit right in. All it took was her warm body next to his, her soft voice, fingers on his face or neck. She felt like home, and Satoru loved that feeling.

---

“So, how’s Itadori?”

It was late evening, maybe even night already, when Eden and Satoru sat on the couch in their living room. When his fiancée was “fixing herself” after using only hotel bathrooms for weeks and finally reuniting with her cosmetics, Gojo ordered her favorite takeout and turned on a TV show they started watching before she left. It was still paused in the middle of the episode, exactly where they left it. He couldn’t stop himself from taking deep breaths every few minutes, her vanilla shower gel scent taking over his mind and calming his nerves as they caught up on everything that happened. One of their rules from “The Guide to Happy and Very Much Alive Sorcerers Relationship” was keeping the contact low when one of them was away. As long as it wasn’t a life or death matter, it could’ve waited until they were back. It also helped with focusing on getting the job done and going home faster.

“He’s good. This kid is a natural, he learned in a month what some kids need almost half a year for. And the fact he’s got full control over Sukuna? Crazy.” Eden smiled, seeing how excited he was. She always knew Satoru would make a great teacher, so when he got the offer from Yaga, she was ready to promise him anything just so he would accept it. “Oh, Megumi is doing great too. I think he actually benefits a lot from working with Itadori and Nobara. She’s a bit crazy, but talented and smart as hell. You’ll like her.”

Right, it was time for a break, Eden reminded herself, taking another bite of her teriyaki chicken. Even the higher-ups agreed that she deserved some time to rest after hunting the curse users for almost three months and then securing Saori’s vessel. She’ll probably be responsible for her training too, since she was the one who brought her all the way to Tokyo.

“How did you even find Izumi?” In moments like this one, Eden started to wonder if Gojo’s eyes somehow let him read her mind. Or maybe it was how well he knew her, always seemed to know what was going on in her head. She swallowed the last piece of chicken and put the box on the coffee table.

“It was an accident, to be honest. Do you remember Ayato Ame from Kyoto? She was in the same year I was, and we met during an exchange event. I remembered her clan had their main house in the village I passed through on my way back from the islands. The plan was to just visit an old friend, and when I got there, I felt Izumi’s energy.” Gojo listened carefully while finishing his dessert. Actually his second dessert, but who’d count? “It turns out Saori was just always with her, she probably got in contact with a cursed object when she was younger. Their family descends from the Anahime bloodline, and they store a shitton of weird items in their underground. From then it was just a matter of talking her into coming to Tokyo, which wasn’t particularly hard. Teenagers. And when Saori heard about Sukuna’s vessel, she was talking about it non-stop from what Izumi told me.”

Satoru laughed, closing his eyes for a moment. When he looked at her again, there were so many things written in his gaze that he couldn’t and wouldn’t have to say out loud. He leaned forward and left the food on the table to pull Eden into his arms. It took a second to find a comfortable position, but they finally figured it out. Eden was basically lying on his chest, one of his arms wrapped around her waist, hand beneath the material of a white long-sleeve she stole from Gojo’s part of the closet. The other hand was laying next to hers, over his heart. For a while, they just stayed like this, both cherishing the moment.

“Do you think they actually care about each other?” When she asked this, Gojo looked down at her with furrowed brows.

“Who?”

“Sukuna and Saori. Well, I should’ve asked, do you think that Sukuna cares for her. Izumi told me how Saori talked about him, and I can’t imagine Sukuna like that.” Her fiancé sighed and laid his head back on the armrest. Blue eyes focused on the way lights were playing on the ceiling while he thought about the answer.

“Honestly, I’m not sure.” It was Eden’s turn to look confused, but she waited patiently for Satoru to continue. “He was like us before, a jujutsu sorcerer. Times were different, sure, he was an asshole even as a human, but that doesn’t change the fact that he was, and maybe still is, capable of having feelings. Saori did the same thing he did with his fingers, right?”

“Yes, she said it was their way of ensuring they’d be together after he created his cursed parts.”

“I think I get it.” He smiled slightly and lowered his head to look into the black eyes he knew so well. “If I were Sukuna, I’d do anything not to spend an eternity without you.”

[darkfictionjude]

Hi, was curious of if we'd get more insight on what brought Lorcan and Orla together, not to say Lorcan hasn't got anything going for himself since I am taking his route despite him well fucking our dead Sister and everything, but they seem like such opposites, Orla could have had anyone, and it’s funny that he who hates the rich pompous kids could be so publicly in love with one and keep the same "street cred", they just seem like an odd mysterious pair, they were together for such a long time too and if it was "love" it’s crazy that there is place for mc at all considering, will we have to accept projecting from him or was there always something there even separate of Orla's death/existence, would they have ever come together if she didn't die or even didn't exist or ever date Lorcan

Thank you for the work btw

That’s the thing though, how can he answer that? As his romancer its self harm to think about What Ifs because he doesn’t know. I personally think Lorcan had an unhealthy attachment that would have made him stay with orla if she didn’t die forever he wouldn’t have gone for Crowny because he would have never had the chance to really know them and would think the worst

If orla didn’t exist I don’t know if they would be together romantically because Lorcan’s hate comes from something he thinks Crowny did to him personally. It’s a toss up

So you’ll get some insight but like unless I write a story for it you’ll never really in game what their relationship was really like. What’s interesting is that I think Crowny does more projecting than he does. Lorcan doesn’t see orla in Crowny at all, they’re just too different but Crowny might be insecure and believe he does.

His feelings of hatred for Crowny were so consuming he never could blend orla and crowny together. When he does fall in love the love feels like a different thing than it did with orla. Somehow they both feel romantic but not the same

[sequinsmile-x]

Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Eighty

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

-x-

Hi besties <3

Today is the two year anniversary of the first chapter of SGW being posted!! Which is crazy, and wild and everything in between - and I can't believe that you are all still enjoying and reading this fic!

Thank you for your continued love for this version of them as we start the final 1/5 of this fic <3

As always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 2.3k

A full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily groans as she tries to get comfortable in a hard plastic chair, one hand on her bump as she tries to resettle. She catches the eye of the woman sitting opposite her in the waiting room and they exchange a knowing look as she does the same thing. She couldn’t believe she was 20 weeks along, that she was halfway through her pregnancy. Time felt like it was slipping through her fingers like sand, catching only briefly on her skin before she lost it forever. 

It made her ache when she looked at Lily sometimes, something she was sure was made worse by her pregnancy hormones. It felt like just yesterday that she was a tiny little thing in Aaron’s arms as he handed her to Emily to hold for the first time, his smile soft and voice shaking as he told her they had a little girl. Aaron always had to remind Emily that Lily was still only 18 months old, his smile just as soft as the first time she held their baby girl as he assured her that even though she could walk and talk now, she was still very much her baby. She knew it would go just as quickly with this baby too. That in a year's time she’d be looking at his or her sweet face and wondering where the time had gone, her focus on features she couldn’t quite picture yet that she’d commit to memory the second she could. 

There were times when she struggled to believe that this really was her life, that it wasn’t just some dream. That she’d fallen in love with Aaron and they’d made it work, that their love for each other had created the family they now had - broken pieces of her life and his merging together to make something beautiful. She couldn’t imagine her life without him, Jack, Lily and the baby rolling in her belly, and she never wanted to picture a world without them. If this was a dream, it was certainly one she never wanted to wake up from.

Her phone vibrates in her pocket and she smiles as she pulls it out, Aaron’s name and contact photo - a picture of him with Lily on one hip and Jack on the other - flashing up at her. 

“Hi,” she says as she answers, the bustling sound of the precinct he was in giving away the fact he was calling her from work, “Is everything okay?” 

“Everything’s fine,” he assures her, his voice low as he tries to give them some privacy, “I wanted to make sure that you made it to your appointment.”

She nods even though he can’t see her, and rests her hand on her bump, “Pickle and I are here in the most uncomfortable chair in the world,” she says, smiling when he chuckles, her dislike of the chairs at her doctor’s office well-known, “Doctor Gibson is at a delivery though so her fellow is doing the scan.” 

“I’m so sorry I can’t be there sweetheart,” he says, and she can hear the guilt in his voice, can picture the way his shoulders would be tight as he curled in on himself in what he would consider his failure as a husband and father. It was a hangover from his marriage with Haley. He’d come into their relationship having learnt from his mistakes with Haley, but he was hard on himself sometimes and saw anything like this as the very thing that could start them down a rocky path he’d stumbled down before. 

“You have work,” she says, smiling softly, “I don’t think the innocent people of Philadelphia would appreciate you not doing your job just so you can go to your wife’s 20 week scan,” she says, her attempt at humour falling flat when he hums, “It’s the only appointment you’ve ever missed Aaron. I’ll call and tell you all about it later when Pickle has passed everything with flying colours.” 

“Emily Hotchner?”

She looks up and smiles at the nurse who’d called for her and stands up, her phone tucked between her ear and shoulder as she gathers her things, “They’ve just called me through, honey. I’ll speak to you later, okay?” 

“Okay. I love you.” 

“I love you too. We all do.”  

She hangs up and follows the nurse through to the examination room, and is greeted by a doctor who looks younger than Spencer, enthusiasm shining in her eyes as she stands up to shake Emily’s hand.

“Hi Mrs Hotchner, I’m Doctor Jackson, Doctor Gibson’s fellow. She said to pass on her apologies that she couldn’t be here today.”

“That’s okay,” she says, placing her purse down on the seat Aaron would usually sit in, “And please, call me Emily. You’re going to spend the best part of an hour examining me and the baby,” she smiles as she gets onto the bed. She feels a spark of anxiety as she lays down and she instinctively reaches for Aaron’s hand before she remembers that he isn’t here. She clenches her hands into fists as she blows out a slow breath, her smile shaking a little as she looks back over at Doctor Jackson, “We may as well be on first name terms.”

“In that case, I think you should call me Louise,” she says, “Are we waiting on anyone, or-”

“My husband is away for work,” Emily replies, tugging her shirt up over her bump and tucking it under her bra, “So I’ve promised him a lot of pictures.” 

Louise smiles and nods, reaching for the gel to squeeze some onto Emily’s belly, “We can definitely arrange that.” 

Her anxiety starts to ease with each passing minute, her eyes fixed on her baby on the screen as Louise tells her that everything looks good. She smiles as she feels the baby shift and watches the movement on the screen, tiny fists and little legs kicking about as Louise finishes the scan. 

“Everything looks really good,” Louise says as she hands Emily a paper towel to wipe the gel from her belly, “She’s measuring exactly how she should be, and I have no concerns.”

Emily smiles, huffing out a breath of relief, “Thank you, thats…” She drifts off, her eyebrows furrowing as she pulls her shirt back over her belly, “Did you say she?” 

Louise’s eyes go wide, a reaction Emily would have caught regardless of her experience as a profiler, and she slaps her hand over her mouth, “Oh, Mrs Hotchner. It was in your file that you didn’t want to know. I’m so sorry, I-”

“It’s a girl?” Emily asks, her hand on her bump, her thumb tracing back and forth over where she can feel the baby, her daughter, moving, “I’m having another girl.” 

“Yes, you’re having a girl,” Louise says, “I’m so sorry.” 

“No thats…” she shakes her head, blowing out a slow breath as she wipes a tear from her cheek. She’d wanted it to be a surprise, but now she knew she couldn’t imagine not knowing, the image in her mind of her baby, her little girl, already clearer than it had been just a few minutes ago, “That’s amazing,” she chokes on a laugh, “I’m having another girl.”

___

She keeps the news to herself when she calls Aaron to tell him about the scan, her smile wide and her teeth digging into the inside of her cheek as she tells him that their baby looks perfect. She wants to see his face when she tells him they are having another girl, to share that experience with him in person. 

It’s a long couple of days. She finds herself almost slipping up a couple of times, catching herself before she accidentally reveals they are having a daughter over the phone, so she’s even happier than usual when he texts to say he’ll be home in a few hours. She’s pacing back and forth with Lily in her arms, the toddler half-asleep, her eyes drifting closed as she fights sleep, when Emily hears the car pull up onto their driveway, and she kisses the side of Lily’s head.

“Daddy’s home, sweet girl,” she says, and she heads for the front door and smiles when he walks in, “Hi.”

“There are my girls,” he says, dropping his go-bag to the floor and stepping towards them, smiling at the sight of Lily perched on top of Emily’s bump, matching sleepy looks in their eyes. He kisses Emily and then Lily’s head, “Hi.” 

“Dada!” Lily exclaims tiredly, yawning as she reaches out for him. Emily passes her over, her fingers skimming over her husband’s as he holds their daughter against his chest. 

“We were just about to do bedtime,” Emily says, her hand over his on Lily’s back, “Since you’re here, do you want to do it? I’ll make us some hot chocolate.” 

“I’ll be back down in a few minutes,” Aaron says, and he kisses Emily’s cheek before stepping past her, his lips against Lily’s forehead as she continues to pretend she isn’t tired, “Let’s get you to bed Lily-Pad.” 

Emily watches them go and smiles when she feels the baby kick. She laughs as she presses her hand against her bump and walks to the kitchen, “It’s time to tell Daddy all about you, sweet girl.” 

She’s just finishing dropping marshmallows into the hot chocolates when Aaron wraps his arms around her, his lips against her neck and his hands on her bump, “Despite acting like she wasn’t tired she fell asleep the moment I started reading to her.”

Emily hums and places her hand over his, linking their fingers together over the baby shifting under her skin, “She missed her Daddy,” she turns in his arms and kisses him, “I did too.” 

“I missed you,” he kisses her before he picks up the hot chocolates and they walk into the living room. He smiles when he realises the lights on the Christmas tree are already on, and he turns to his wife, “Were you and Lily in here looking at the lights?” 

She presses her lips together and nods as she sits down on the couch, “We were. She loves them.” 

“Just like her mom,” Aaron says as he settles next to her, one arm looping around her shoulders whilst he places his other hand on her bump, “And next Christmas we’ll have another baby for you to pass your love of the holidays on to.” 

She hums and rests her head on his shoulder, love simmering under her skin in a way that was prone to making her cry these days, “I can’t wait.” 

“Me neither,” he says, kissing her temple, “I’m glad your appointment went well and everything looks good,” he says, rubbing his thumb back and forth over her sweater, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” 

She pulls back to look at him and cups his cheek, dragging him in for a kiss so she doesn’t just blurt out that they are having a little girl quite yet, “It’s okay, honey,” she says, stamping a kiss against his lips again, “I know you would have been there if work hadn’t got in the way.” 

“The doctor said everything looked good?” He asks and she nods, running her thumb back and forth over his jaw. 

“Everything looks perfect,” she says and she blows out a breath, her heart hammering so hard in her chest she’s surprised he can’t hear it, “She also told me something else…accidentally,” she says, biting her lower lip as she sucks in a breath, “She told me what we’re having.” 

His eyes go wide, “She did?”

She nods, her eyes already shining with tears she knew she was seconds away from shedding, “Yeah, she was really apologetic…but I couldn’t bring myself to care,” she strokes his cheek again, feels the wonder and happiness in his dimple as she presses her thumb into it, “Do you want to know?” 

“Of course, I want to know,” he says, not even having to think about it, the speed at which he answers drawing a laugh out of both of them. 

“Good,” she replies, chuckling, the sound wet as it catches in her throat, “Because I would have struggled to keep it a secret from you for another 20 weeks,” she presses her lips together and blows out a shaky breath, and she wonders if this was how he felt when he told her that they’d had a girl when he handed her Lily for the first time, “We’re having a girl.” 

He gasps, the sound catching on his ribs as his eyes go wide, “We’re having a girl?” 

She nods, sniffing as tears spill down onto her cheeks, “Yeah. We’re having another little girl.”

He drags her into a hug, his arms tight around her as he kisses her wherever he can reach. His lips catch her temple, then her forehead, then her nose. Drawing a laugh out of her with his relentless love for her. 

“I love you so much, sweetheart,” he says, his words muffled against her lips, and she captures his chin as she laughs, kissing him softly before she pulls back. 

“I love you too,” she replies, kissing him again, “So much.” 

He rests his forehead against hers, “Do you want to tell anyone else?”

She’d thought about it ever since she’d found out and she shakes her head, “We so rarely have anything just for the two of us. It would be nice to have this be something just is just for us until she gets here.” 

He nods and kisses her again before he wraps his arms around her, holding her close and burying his nose in her hair, “Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he kisses her forehead, “Whatever you want.” 

[agenericplaceholdername]

who says that all the realms have to follow the same rules?

The crazy thing is that the first time we're introduced to other realms, the exact opposite is said:

"In other Realms, there are other rules" - Fenwick, Kingdom Come

(this is his explanation for how the Ninja are able to stand on clouds in the Cloud Kingdom)

We get some of the realm differences post-Merge - one of them has a red ocean. But other than that-- nothing! Historically the bacteria issue would probably be the biggest deal (thinking about smallpox) but I think it's pretty obvious why the writers didn't go down that track.

The biological, gravitational, agricultural, and temporal differences are all really great ideas (and so long as there are a few realms unaccounted for, I'd like to believe that some of them do have these differences). I'd also read (and might write) a story in the form of a news article about the Crossroad's vaccination program. There's a ton of potential here!

Ok but who says that all the realms have to follow the same rules?

What if people from other realms aren't the same biologically to people in Ninjago. What if they have a different kind of cell structure? What if they have funky coloured skin because of such different conditions? Does every realm need it's own special medical care because of how different their conditions are?

What if they have a different gravitational field that affects the physics of said realm, Do travellers have to adjust the way they move when going through each one? What about the elements in the periodic table? Does each realm have a less or even more elements than the ones we know? What if the size of the atom is different for each realm? And how would those atoms react with the foreign atoms?

What about bacteria? Let's say realm X has a bacteria that just causes a mild fever. How would someone from realm Y respond to it? How many diseases would there have been after the merge? How long would it have taken to develop the proper vaccines against them?

What about crops? Each realm probably has wildy different soil from the other so what did farmers do in the first few months of the merge? Do post-merge scientists engineer realm-specific soil for the different types of crops?

And time!! We know that some realms have different rules for time, so what happens to that after the merge?? Does time slow or speed up when you cross a specific area? And what if you stay there for too long?

[chronotopes]

Last sentence of the fancifully self-inserty novel about a lesbian breakup that i wrote at 15: “They walked onto the ship hand-in-hand, and some part of Quartz knew that this was where her life began.”

Last sentence of the fancifully self-inserty novel about a lesbian breakup that i wrote at 21: “And in the bedroom of the Optimizer’s old apartment, you try to breathe for just a few minutes more before standing up to face the cruelly short, cruelly interminable expanse of the rest of your life.”

[bogdreamz]

old tervo sketches i never posted sorry i was like feverishly pacing around all day

[walnutcookie]

guys you dont understand. glisten and rodgers relarionship makes me crazzyyyyy

[skepticalcatfrog]

Today on things I may need to write an essay on someday: the constant use of metaphor representing Roma and Benedikt as two sides of the same coin. I've realized how often they're written as opposites while also being very much the same and now. it won't leave my head.

[some-pers0n]

Every once in a while I think about the ship I've been obsessed over for close to two years now and feel like I'm ascending to another plane of reality. Like sometimes you just encounter a ship that hits every single mark and is perfect in every regard and you're left stunned how something like that can even exist

[casperth3ghost]

"adhd x autism!!" NO, i want autistic girlfriend x autistic boyfriend RIGHT NOW

i want a french autistic man x his canadian autistic girlfriend and they fell in love because they both had on garfield shirts when they first met

but the boy loves garfield to draw in the funkiest fun colorful outfits ever and the girl loves garfield because of the comics from idk when garfield was made HELP

[dykesynthezoid]

Also it is craaaaazyyyyy the way misogyny is used to protect and discount nuns abusing children. It is so horrid. The arguments I’ve seen are basically: a. nuns are sexually frustrated and b. don’t have children of their own and therefore can’t conceive of how to properly treat children. Like we’re talking about a situation where these women are given a crumb of authority and are using it to abuse the most vulnerable members of society in their care, and that’s being intentionally obscured with this narrative where they’re somehow powerless over the harm they do to others because they’re just such hysterical sexually frustrated bitches and obviously the fact they haven’t had sex with men or had children means they’re fundamentally unhappy and unfulfilled, so it’s not their fault they’re being evil. That’s just how women are, right! Absolutely vile

[spiralheaven]

I'LL LAMENT MY DESCENT, BUT I'LL NEVER REPENT