#especially that absolutely heartbroken look on his face :( | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gojoux · 1 year ago

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『 𝐖𝐎𝐍’𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊? 』

· Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader

· Summary: Five times he confesses his feelings and one time you say it back.

· CW: 10.7k (I can explain...) // Fluff. Angst. Classic 5+1 trope that I absolutely adore. Reader have trust issues. Just Gojo being whipped for you. Geto being his wingman. Slight jealousy. Heartbroken Gojo. Argument (he did/said something bad but it's not described so it's up to your imagination).

“I like you.”

Gojo confessed proudly with a wide grin adorning his face as he looked down at you. His hands are inside his pocket as he stands in front of your desk.

You look up at him in confusion, “What?”

He looked down at you and tilted his head slightly. “I said, I like you.” His words were direct and his gaze was firm. His hair shifted in the breeze from the opened window.

“Oh...” You can't even find a word to describe your feelings to him, and you're pretty sure it's the first time he confessed his feelings to someone, let alone romantically, and to you. “I, uh, thank you.” You smile awkwardly at him.

His gaze was intense despite his wide smile, like he had a laser focusing on you. “Thank me for accepting my feelings. Let me take you out sometime.” His words were casual as if it wasn't a big deal to confess to you.

He takes a hand out of his pocket to push back his hair. “Do you have someone you like, though?”

You think for a bit before answering, “I don't think so...” You answer, quite unsurely. “At least, not at the moment.” You give him a small smile at the end.

He hummed in response. “Hmm...” His eyes shifted as he pondered your words. “Does that mean I have the opportunity to win your affection?” He asked as his smile widened. His tone and expression seemed both confident and playful at this moment.

“Well...” Before you could reply to his words, you heard a small snicker on the side. It's Geto watching his best friend confess to you.

Then, you realized, “Are you playing truth or dare?” You ask with a raised brow, your eyes shifting from Gojo to Geto and then back to Gojo again.

His cheeks turn slightly red from your question. He glances at Geto and shrugs. “Maybe it's truth and dare,” he answers sheepishly.

“Would your answer change if it was just truth?” He follows up with a smile. Geto's smirk grows wider as he watches you two. He seemed oddly entertained by Gojo's flirtatiousness.

You rest your back against the chair. “Since you're expressing your feeling because of a game, especially because of a dare, I'd say no.” You look up to him with a somewhat apologetic smile.

Gojo's smile faded from his face as it became clear his attempt to confess had failed. He glanced between you and Geto, who was still smiling at him on the side.

“Suguru...” Gojo hissed quietly. “What?” Geto whispered back with a slight chuckle. Gojo sighed with frustration. “Forget it,” he muttered.

He glanced back at you as he scratched the back of his head. “Sorry if it felt like I was playing with your feelings.”

“No problem.” You shrug casually to dismiss the matter. He walks back to sit in front of Geto, probably continuing to play truth or dare.

The second time he told you he liked you was a week later. You feel him sitting down next to you on the stairs and handing you a drink from the vending machine.

“Thank you.” You answer as you accept the canned drink from his hand. “You're welcome,” he replied. He looked a little tired after his training.

He was silent for a few moments after handing you the drink. His eyes shifted as he looked at you, and then out at the view.

“Did you know that the sunset has both yellow and orange lights?” He asked you suddenly. His tone was casual but it seemed like he had wanted to tell you something.

The vending machine was on a small landing of stairs, and they faced the view of the sunset.

“Very beautiful, isn't it?” Your eyes are glued to the view. Gojo followed your gaze. His eyes scanned the scene in front of you, at the horizon of the view and the way the light filtered into the sky.

“Yeah.” His words were slightly distracted. His eyes were not focused on the beautiful sunset, but on the person next to him. “It is. I think sunsets are always beautiful.”

For some reason, he felt almost compelled to hold your hand. He thought it could be considered a bit too intimate when you're not even together in the first place, but he still wondered if he should do it.

“I enjoy a nice view." He adds, trying to distract himself from these feelings. “Me, too.” You nod in agreement.

His hands clenched into fists. “Mmm.” For whatever reason, he couldn't bring himself to hold your hand and make the first move.

Gojo's eyes followed the movement of the birds and clouds. He seemed content to let you enjoy the moment in peace, but at the same time, he was eager to start talking again.

“I like you,“ he said after a few moments. “Do you understand what I mean by that?” His tone was slightly more serious now.

“Is this another dare?” You ask back with a chuckle as you finally turn your head to look at him beside you.

His eyes met yours, and he didn't crack a smile as your response. “No, this time it's the truth,” he said, sounding slightly embarrassed, and his cheeks turned slightly red. “I'm just trying to tell you how I feel...”

Gojo was not used to confession. He glanced back at the sunset, trying to escape from the situation.

“I like you, too.” You replied with a smile. “You're a great friend.” You take a sip of your canned drink before looking back at the sunset again.

The words ‘friend’ crushed his soul for a few seconds. He thought he was doing better than the previous time. Gojo swallowed the lump in his throat.

His gaze shifted between you and the ground. “...Right,” he finally said.

A tense silence hung between you as you both let the sunset wash over your faces. Gojo thought hard about his words. His eyes gave nothing away but his face betrayed some uncertainty.

“I was hoping we would become more than just friends, though.” He speaks up after a minute of silence.

“Best friends?” You offer. “It will be nice to be your best friend, and I could be your other one besides Geto.” You chuckle, trying to brush off this tingly feeling inside you.

“Best friends...” He repeated the words as if he didn't want to admit that this wasn't what he hoped for. He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with these feelings of his not being reciprocated.

“Hey, can I tell you something?” He asked after a few moments of silence. He wanted to share how he felt, even if it wasn't going to go anywhere.

“Sure.” You look at him, waiting for him to speak.

He took a breath and let the words flow freely. “You really are someone I care about, and not just as a friend.” He paused, trying to think of the right words. “I just wanted you to know that... that you mean a lot to me.” A small sincere smile came to his face.

Gojo wasn't used to sharing his feelings quite so openly. He looked down at his hands, which were still clenched into fists.

You stay quiet and then smile at his words. “Aww, thank you.” You can't help but appreciate his efforts to express his feelings since he's not one to do so.

A small grin crossed Gojo's face. He sighed, the tension he felt dissipating a bit. “No problem. And I'm not just saying that either,” he added. “It's the truth. You're a really great person.“

His gaze shifted forward again, watching the clouds move. “Thanks for listening, (Y/N).” He seemed a bit more relieved with that exchange. “It was nice to get that off my chest.”

You smile at his words, glad that he's comfortable enough around you to tell his feelings. Not long after, you get up from your seat and he looks up at you standing up. “I'll be heading back to the dorm.”

“Oh? You're leaving already?” He asks. “Don't you want to enjoy the rest of the sunset?” He pointed out.

The sun was starting to go down, the sky filling with a beautiful orange hue. “If you leave now, you'll miss the best part.”

“I'm getting sleepy, my eyes are heavy.” His eyebrows raised slightly as you were ready to leave. He pushed himself back up, ready to follow you, but he hesitated.

Should he hold your hand like he wanted to? He had confessed to you, but this wasn't a romantic moment anymore. What if he made you uncomfortable? Gojo thought for a few moments, before making his decision.

He reached forward and took your hand, gripping it softly. “I'll head back with you,” he said to you with a small smile on his face.

You were stunned by the feeling of his hand holding yours. He's so warm, and the tingly feeling inside you spreads even more.

“I can go on my own, you know.” You make no effort to pull your hand away from him. His expression shifted to bashful at your words. “I know. But...”

He took a deep breath. “I wanted to go with you,” he told you. He gripped your hand a bit tighter as he looked down at it. “Is that okay with you? Or should I let go?”

“No.” You shake your head, not realizing you're squeezing his hand. “It's okay.”

Gojo's chest felt lighter when you said it was okay for him to keep holding your hand. He squeezed your hand back in response.

You both started to walk towards the dorm, his fingers intertwined with yours. It was such a simple action, but it felt so meaningful. He takes a moment to appreciate this gesture, his head turned to see the sunset once more before looking at you again.

In more than three weeks of knowing each other better, Gojo has grown more attached to you. And you can't say that you don't feel the same.

You were now indeed best friends. His feelings for you keep growing, and your feelings also bloom for him. But you tried your hardest to not let that show.

He seemed to have become more confident when it came to expressing his affection for you. But he still didn't seem to have much confidence when it came to flirting or romance, though.

His feelings for you grew with every smile and laugh shared between you both, and he was getting impatient. Every day, he wanted to ask you out, but he wanted to wait for the right moment. He wanted your first date to be perfect.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” He asked you, his eyes lingering on his phone.

“Yeah?” You respond. “Will you go to the cinema with me?” He asks to the point. He put his phone inside his pocket and stood up from his seat.

“Come on.” Without waiting for your answer, he took your hand and led you out of the school building. “There's a movie coming out that I really want to see.” His eyes were sparkling with excitement.

“Whoa, whoa, now?” You ask as you let him drag you away.

“Yeah, why not?” He looks at you confused. He seemed to just expect you to go with him, not even questioning his abrupt proposition. He didn't seem to consider the possible answer could be ‘no’.

Geto who was minding his own business watched the two of you leave with a small smirk. “Oh, you two are finally going out?” He teased. “Yeah! See you later, Suguru!” Gojo's voice fades away after he exits the classroom.

“Why not ask Geto?” You ask him a bit breathless from the long walk and wait for an assistant manager to drive you to your destination.

“You think I want him to watch us go on a date?” He looked at you with a chuckle. “I just... wanted it to be the two of us,” he explained quietly.

“This is a date?” You ask confused. “We're not dating, though?”

He looks slightly flustered by your words. “Well, that's what I'm hoping to change.” He mumbles to himself. “To be honest, I just wanted to spend time with you.” His tone is still quiet but a little sheepish.

“Mmm...” You only nod at him.

The assistant manager arrives to drive you to the cinema. He's surprisingly quiet the entire ride, choosing to look outside of the window instead, and he seemed content that way. But he's seated close to you, and his hand itched to hold yours the entire time.

Once you both arrive, he opens the car door for you and gives a nod to thank the assistant manager for taking the two of you there.

The car drives off, and Gojo grabs your hand once more, not wanting to let go as you both enter the mall. You walk side by side, holding hands, and still in your uniform.

“You haven't told me what you want to watch yet?” You ask as you let him lead you toward the cinema.

He grins at you. “I want to watch the newest romantic comedy. You know, the one with the super attractive actors?” He leans in a little closer as he speaks. His hold on your hand becomes slightly tighter.

“Oh? I didn't expect you to be excited over romantic movies.” You grin playfully at him. Your heart is beating fast from the way he holds your hand.

He chuckles in response. “Oh, I enjoy them. I find them very amusing.” He looks at you with a teasing smile. “Maybe I just like looking at pretty girls in love.”

He glances around the mall but doesn't let go of your hand as the two of you continue walking. His eyes flicker back to you every now and then.

“Pretty girls in love?” You ask again with another chuckle as you shake your head. He nods at your question. “I certainly do,” he answers. “But I feel like you already know that.”

He then looks at you with a slight grin. You feel a subtle tug on the back of your arm as he pulls you closer. “I'd say you're the most beautiful one I know,” he confesses in a soft tone. “So I like looking at you.”

You can feel your heart skip a beat and your face heats up at his words. “What a flirt.” You mumble under your breath.

Gojo chuckles again at your response. "Yeah, yeah. I think I did better than last time." He gives you a wink as you both reach the cinema.

He lets go of your hand for a moment to buy tickets for the two of you, before taking your hand once more as he guides you into the studio where you’re going to be watching the movie.

“When is the movie starting?” You look at him. “The movie?” He seems to be zoning out as he walks with you. “What else?” You ask back. “Oh, I think there's still about 30 minutes before it starts.” He then snaps back to attention. “I mean,” he adds with a chuckle. “Does that mean we have time to grab a snack?”

He pauses as he sees a concession stand in front of you. “There's even cute girls working here.” The last part of the sentence was muttered under his breath.

“Cute girls?” You repeat to yourself quietly, your gaze following him, before shaking your head, letting go of his hand, and walking towards the counter to order some snacks.

Gojo doesn't seem to take too kindly to the fact that you've let go of his hand. He frowns slightly. “Wait, what are you doing?” He glances back down at you with slightly parted lips and wide, questioning eyes. His eyebrows raise ever so slightly. “I was hoping we could hold hands...” he utters quietly, glancing down at your hand.

“You want to hold my hand while you flirt with the cute worker? No thanks.” You say as you wait in line. You try to ignore the jealous feeling in your heart and play it cool.

His expression is blank when he thinks about what you've just said. “Why would you assume I'm going to flirt with the girl at the stand?” he asks you. He glances at the girls working at the concession stand, and back at you. “They just look cute, that's all.” He shrugs his shoulders.

“We were holding hands a while ago,” He reminds you, a slightly hurt look in his eyes, but he quickly shakes it off.

Then his eyebrows raise slightly and he looks at you with a teasing expression. “Oh, are you jealous?” The two girls working behind the counter exchange a look and share a slight chuckle, clearly having overheard your conversation.

“Why should I be jealous? You're not my boyfriend.” You stuck your tongue out playfully at him.

Gojo's smile fades for a while at your words. He lets out a sigh of irritation, “I wish I was,” he utters quietly. He quickly covers it up again with his usual attitude. “But I could be,” he replies in a teasing tone. In response to your gesture, he makes a face and sticks his tongue out at you.

“Ha, you wished.” You brush him off.

Gojo keeps a smirk on his face, but he's secretly hurt by your words. “Well, if my wish was true, I would make you my girlfriend today,” he utters quietly.

“What are you going to get?” He averts the topic, his voice is slightly quieter than usual and not as playful.

“Package C.” You point out the big screen on the top. He looks at where you’re pointing and nods. The concession stand is busy, and more customers have joined the line behind you.

“I'll just order for the both of us.” He seems annoyed but still keeps a faint smile on his face. You look at him in confusion, stunned by his change of attitude.

Without you realizing it, Gojo has taken a soft spot for you, and he wears his emotions on his sleeves from how comfortable he is around you.

You see that his eyes narrow and you can tell he feels hurt from your words earlier. But that’s your assumption, you don’t want to think too much about it. He steps to the counter himself, and asks the girl working behind it, “Two Package C's, please.”

You both moved to the side after he was done ordering, waiting for your name to be called to pick up your orders.

He leans against the wall with his arms crossed. The two of you quietly wait for your orders as the movie's start time draws closer. He takes a few more glares at you, before sighing. “I think I might have been too harsh,” he mumbles to himself.

His eyes are focused on the counter and you can tell he's still thinking hard about your words. He’s just jealous and hurt, that’s all.

He glances at you in silence until his name is called to pick up the order. “Let's go sit somewhere before the movie starts.” He takes them from the girl behind the counter, he's still upset by how distant he sounds.

“What's wrong?” You finally break the silence once you both find a nearby seat to wait. You can see Gojo's jaw tighten slightly as soon as you speak. He's still struggling with his thoughts.

After a few more seconds, he sighs and gives you a tight grin. “Nothing's wrong,” he answers with a shake of his head. He doesn't seem like his usual, carefree self, but he tries to hide it by maintaining the smile. He’s still bothered by what you said.

“Well, I think something is wrong.” You shift your body slightly to the side to face him. He stares at you in silence for a while. He looks conflicted for a moment as if trying to decide whether he should tell you the truth or keep it to himself.

“I... am a bit upset,” he finally admits after a long pause. He still doesn't give you an explanation, but you can tell that he wants to tell you something important.

“Because...?” You urge him to continue.

“Because of what you said... about not being your boyfriend.” He admits quietly with a hint of sadness in his voice. He takes a deep breath and crosses his arms across his chest after putting the food package to the side. He looks at you with a conflicted gaze, like he wants to say something else.

“But it’s true, right? You’re not.” His eyes narrow at your words. You can see the sadness and disappointment on his face.

“Because I want to be your boyfriend.” Gojo's words seem to surprise you as they surprise him himself. He seems a little embarrassed as he looks back at you, his head tilted in your direction.

“Listen,” he paused for a bit. “I like you, alright?” His eyes flick to you for a split second before looking down at the floor again. “I really do.” His tone is softer, but his words seem firm and honest. He takes a breath, his expression softening slightly.

“I want to be more than just friends with you,” he answers softly. The look on his face seems to beg for confirmation. He wants to know if you feel the same way.

Your breath hitched at his confession. You know that he likes you, but you’re still unsure if he’s actually genuine and able to commit to you or not.

You do trust him as your friend and ally, but you’re still unsure if you could trust your heart to him. And you feel awful for always leaving him hanging from your ambiguous response.

Deep inside, you want to be with him. You just want to be selfish for a while longer, and you promise yourself to make it up to him after you made up your mind.

Fortunately for you in this situation, the studio door is now open, a sign for everyone to start entering.

“Let's just enjoy the movie for now, okay?” You stand up from your seat.

He frowns, trying not to show his disappointment at you dodging the question. “Of course,” he answers quietly, following your lead and standing up to enter the cinema.

The two of you sit down and start watching the movie, and the mood seems to soften a bit. He's back to his relaxed and playful self as he enjoys the movie.

You notice that his hand is slowly creeping closer to yours. He's still staring intently at the movie but makes no attempt to move his hand away. The tension from the conversation seems to have lifted, making the atmosphere more lighthearted again.

You hear a soft sigh and see him glance at you for a quick moment. He gives you a small smile, before focusing his attention back on the movie.

A few minutes later, his hand rests on top of yours. He focuses on the movie and smiles at some of the scenes. The two of you don't say anything for a while, but Gojo continues to smile as you both enjoy the movie.

“What are you doing?” You try to sound unbothered as you can while sipping your drink.

“What does it look like I'm doing?” He glances at you then turns away quickly, acting as if he's not doing anything, but he keeps his hand on top of yours.

His gaze is focused on the screen, but he's being playfully cheeky with his response. “If you want, I can give you a head pat, too. I hear it's all the rage.” His tone is slightly teasing in response.

“Does my touch bother you?” He adds quietly.

You shake your head before saying, “No,” secretly enjoying the closeness.

He smiles and gives you a light squeeze with his hand. His eyes are still focused on the movie, but from time to time he glances down at your hands. From the way he smiles, you can tell he's enjoying this moment just as much as you.

The joy is clear on Gojo's face as he watches the movie. He's giggling and laughing at all the right places and even nudges you at some points to share his laughter while keeping his hand on top of yours for most of the movie.

He leans in a little closer as the credits start to roll. “Hey.” He leans in a little closer as if he's about to whisper something into your ear.

“Yes?” You tried to guess what he could have possibly said with your heart beating faster.

His eyes are focused on your face, and he doesn't seem to be distracted by the credits or people leaving the cinema around you.

“I really enjoyed today,” he says rather quietly. His smile seems genuine and he gives you a small nod. “I like being with you,” he continues. “Can we do it again sometime?”

You let a smile escape your lips, “Of course.” You nod. “Thank you for taking me here today.”

“No problem,” he answers with a grin. He pulls his hand away slightly and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “This was fun.”

As the credits continue to roll, the lights dim again. You can hear people start to talk and slowly leave the cinema. “Do you wanna stay here a little longer?”

You lean back in your seat, looking at the credit scene with the music in the background. “Maybe a bit more.”

He smiles and leans against the back of his seat as well. He rests his head on your shoulder ever so slightly as you both look at the credits.

You try to keep your body relaxed when you feel his cheek on your shoulder. But the atmosphere is surprisingly comfortable, you like it.

“Do you have plans afterward?” He asks. “I was thinking that maybe we could go out for some ramen.” A faint blush spreads across his face. He looks at you expectantly, the credits still rolling in the background.

“Do you know a place for any ramen shops you recommend?”

“Actually, I know a ramen shop pretty close to Jujutsu High," he answers. “It's a small, local family business. It's a personal favorite of mine.”

He smiles brightly and grabs your hand again. “Come on, I'll take you there.” His tone is cheerful as he sits straight again.

“You don't mind if I hold your hand, do you?”

“Why would you want to hold my hand, though?”

His grin falters slightly and he gives you a sidelong glance. “Because I like holding your hand,” he answers simply. He squeezes your hand slightly, his thumb gently brushing against your palm.

You already know that he's the type to go into people's personal spaces— those he considers as friends though— and he's very touchy as well.

Circling an arm behind Shoko's chair and sometimes he ends up putting his hand on her shoulder, resting his weight on Geto while they talk, and he seems to enjoy touching your hand.

And you can't lie to yourself and say you don't like it.

Your day continues with him taking you to his recommended ramen shop and treating your meals until you're satisfied, because that's what he's intended to do.

The fourth time Gojo confessed his feelings was not long after your cinema hangout, or what he would call it a date instead.

His confession is rather different this time.

There are constant texts from Gojo on your phone, but his messages are never dull. They're filled with poems, flirty memes, and even his own original drawings and photos.

He sends you love poems, quotes with romantic context, and even pictures of landscapes that he found interesting.

He even sends you a few poems by Shikibu Izumi and Ono no Komachi, a few of the most famous poets of the Heian period.

You're not even surprised to receive these messages anymore. In fact, it's expected and makes you smile each time. Gojo is just being Gojo. And Gojo likes you, a lot.

He would send you texts out of nowhere regarding time and places like,

“I just want to hold your hand,” followed by a long message of poetry.

“Your beauty makes me weak.”

“You're everything I've ever wanted.”

“I've been thinking about you all day.”

“Every day, just seeing your face is enough to make me feel so happy.”

“I just want to be yours, forever and always.”

Or sometimes like,

“Did you know the moon and sun both revolve around each other? Just like how we do, because we were meant to be together.”

And even more random text like,

“The day is beautiful, just like you.”

“Do you know what my favorite part of the day is? It’s seeing your beautiful face in the morning, of course.”

“Do you know what my favorite thing to do together is? It’s playing Momotaro Dentetsu together, just you and me.”

“Do you know the best thing about you? You always have such a contagious smile, my lovely one.”

Every text he sends you always makes your heart soar with happiness. It makes you smile wide in public and squeal to yourself in your room.

He keeps blowing on the wind that makes your heart fly so high. You just hope that he won't stop blowing the wind when your heart reaches up high so you won't crash and fall to get it shattered to pieces.

There is no way you could ignore his sweet text like that, can you?

You would always reply back with some emojis or compliments, sometimes you would share a few videos and pictures. That's enough to keep him going, and he keeps getting bolder with his words.

When you're busy with your school assignment and could only reply with one text such as,

“You're so sweet. Thank you.”

He would reply with more text,

“What? I'm just being honest, my love. I'm not even close to being sweet enough for you.”

“What are you doing right now? I hope you're having a good day, you deserve it.”

He always grins when he waits for your reply, or at least until you read his text. His fingers always tingle when he texts you. He still can't believe that you haven't turned him down.

It's always making your heart race when he calls you pet names, and you're not even dating. He's just so comfortable using them on you.

On one fine day, you were eating lunch with Shoko while you told her about Gojo. She sits across from you, listening to you talk. She takes bites of her food as she listens to your stories.

You tell him about Gojo's constant flirting and how he's been sending you poems and love quotes. You mention that he also asked you out to get some food together.

“He really likes you, you know that right?” Shoko asks you matter-of-factly. From her expression, it doesn't seem as if she's surprised by the news. “It's starting to sound like you have a crush on Gojo,” she teases lightly.

You let out a loud sigh. “Because I do...” You mumble.

“So you still haven't officially started dating?” She looks over at you with a skeptical expression. “Why's that?”

“He's so blatantly flirting with you and you're so obviously into him. What's keeping you two from becoming a couple?” She tilts her head in curiosity.

“He's very popular among the girls, why would he pursue me out of all people?” You let out another sigh. “I'm just... afraid of getting my feelings hurt.” You admit before taking another bite of your food.

Shoko leans back in her chair. “He's so fond of you, it's obvious. The way he keeps texting you, the things he says. It's almost like he's head over heels.”

“What I'm trying to say is...” She pauses, looking for the right words to say. “I see how he looks at you. If he didn't have a genuine thing for you, he would have given up a long time ago.”

You consider her words carefully in silence.

Then, out of nowhere, Geto appears and pats you on the back. “Hey, (Y/N), Shoko,” he looks at you and Shoko and then back at you.

“Sorry to interrupt, but do you mind coming with me for a while?” He asks you. You shrug and set your lunch aside. “Yeah, sure. What is it?”

“Just come with me.” He walks away and you follow not far behind with Shoko also deciding to tag along. He leads you toward the training field.

There is Gojo in the middle of the field, with huge neatly arranged words of I LOVE YOU with red rose petals on the grass.

“Oh, my...” You look at the sight, speechless.

Even Shoko is stunned beside you.

“Hmm, I wonder who that could be for?” Geto chuckles and glances at you.

Gojo smiles brightly from the training field when he sees you, “(Y/N)~!!” he waves in your direction.

He holds one stamp of red rose and walks past the stairs to you. He looks confident and proud as if expecting a positive response. He holds out the rose in his hand to you which you gladly accept.

“I thought today would be a perfect day for a little surprise.” He looks genuinely happy to see you. He continues to smile as you take in the flower display. “So, what do you think?” His eyes focused intently on you, watching your every reaction.

“That is...” You try to find a word to describe it, “Beautiful.” Your eyes are locked on the field. The red rose petals look beautiful on the green field.

“I’m glad you like it.” His face breaks out into a broad smile. “Come, let me show you from up close.” He grabs your hand and leads you down the stairs toward the field where the roses are.

He doesn’t mind Geto and Shoko far behind, he’s just focused on you right now.

He walks over to the flower display and leans forward, picking up one of the roses. He turns to you and offers you the flower.

“Here, this one's for you.” His voice is gentle as he hands you the red rose. You can see the happiness in his eyes. “I didn’t get you roses for nothing.” He tilts his head to the side slightly as he smiles at you.

“How long does this take you to arrange?” You look at the small roses scattering on the grass.

He’s lucky that today isn’t windy, an impulsive reason why he just drags Geto to the field and tells his plan to set this up right away without any preparation except for his imagination on what he wants it to look like.

“That?” He gestures to the flower arrangement in front of you. “I just did it this morning, took about a few hours,” he answers casually. “It was worth it though,” he adds softly, his gaze drifting towards your hands.

Your fingers are still interlocked with his and he leans closer to you, still gripping your hand. “You know I like you, don't you?” His grip on your hand tightens slightly but still holds gently to you and caresses the back of your hand.

“Thank you for all this.” Your smile widens. He hums softly. He reaches up and strokes your head lightly. “You’re welcome.” He leans his head close to yours to kiss your cheek.

“Come.” He smiles at you brightly. He caresses the back of your neck gently as he steps back as if giving you space. “You should pick a rose. I think it would look good on you.”

“Okay.” You nod, feeling shy all of a sudden. His gaze is fixed on you, watching as you reach out to take a flower.

The rose you’ve chosen is a vibrant shade of red, one of the brighter roses among all the other blooms. It’s the perfect flower for you, with the color perfectly matching your hair and overall vibe.

“Here,” he carefully pins the rose behind your ear. The red petals fluttered in the sunlight, the rose contrasting beautifully with your hair. His gaze is still locked in on you as he adjusts the flower.

“Well, isn’t this a cute sight.” A faint smile appears on Shoko’s face as she watches from far away with Geto.

“I guess this settles it all.” The man beside her chuckles. “Satoru has been preparing this since the morning. He looks all happy about it.”

“Maybe next time, those two can go on a date.” He adds, with a hint of playfulness in his voice. “Once they officially start dating, that is.”

Gojo gently pushes the rose further up behind your ear with a smile. “I’ve said it many times now,” he chuckles, his voice sounding like music in your ears. He seems to be taking in every detail of your appearance.

“I wanted you to know that you’re all I think about during the day. And you’re all that I’m dreaming about at night.”

Gojo takes a step closer to you and lightly grabs your hand again. “So, what do you say?” His gaze is still locked on you.

“Let’s make this day a special one.” He looks at you expectantly, his face shows how excited and cheerful he is. He leans in close to you, his hand still tight in his grip on yours. The display of red roses in front of you seems to be a clear message.

You blink a few times and try to calm down your fast-racing heart before speaking, “I—” until it's interrupted by Yaga calling out to him, “Satoru!” making both of you look in the direction.

Yaga seems to appear in between Geto and Shoko who looks both surprised and apologetic since they knew you two are in the middle of something.

His smile drops instantly when Yaga calls out to him. He slowly pulls away from you and turns his attention toward the direction of the voice. “Damn it.” He curses under his breath with a look of annoyance crosses his face.

“I need you to come to my office.” He calls out again before turning to Geto beside him, “You, too, Suguru.” He adds before walking away.

“I gotta go.” He suddenly pulls you closer for a quick hug. “We’ll continue this later alright?” He pulls away from you and starts to follow after Yaga and Geto ahead of him.

Shoko walks down the stairs to approach you. “So, did you accept his confession?” She asks while looking at Gojo and Geto’s back.

You look down at the rose he gave you before looking up and turning to see the rose petals that he had arranged.

“No, I didn’t.”

The fifth time he confessed was when you gave him the silent treatment after he did something that didn't please you.

“I know that I really upset you, but I'm really sorry.”

“Please, (Y/N),” he begs your forgiveness. “I just really don't want to lose you.”

Gojo’s texts come through every 10 minutes or so. He’s desperate for you to respond.

“I messed up, and I'm sorry. I promise it won't happen again.”

“Just... Can you, please?”

“Don't ignore me all day.”

“Please, just listen to me.”

His texts slowly get more frequent as time goes by. They start coming in every couple of minutes. You can see the urgency and anxiety his texts convey as he tries to get a hold of you.

You don’t want to block his contact, just because. But you keep ignoring him, too mad to even think of something to say to him, and right now, you don’t have any energy to deal with this.

It doesn’t stop there. He keeps following you just to explain himself to you, hoping that your view of him won't change because of what he has done.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” He sounds sincere when he approaches you. “I made a mistake.” He tries to take your hand but you pull it away.

“(Y/N), what do I have to do to make up for it? Do you want me to buy you something? I will.” His eyes look sad now, not the confident, cocky look you usually associate with him.

“It won't happen again, I swear.” He looks at you longingly. “Please, I'm begging you.”

“Can you stop following me?” You frown at him, not happy with his presence, something you'd never expect to feel around him.

“No.” He answers bluntly, sounding stubborn. He holds out his hand again. “I'm not leaving yet.” He steps in front of you. “I'm sorry...” He sounds hurt.

“I just want to be with you, (Y/N). Can we please just talk and forget about this whole thing?” His tone is insistent now. “I know I can make it up to you if you just give me the chance.” He continues to look at you with a pleading expression on his face.

“Just leave me alone, can you?” You step back away from him. “You’ve done enough. I don’t want to be around you right now.”

Your words seem to hit Gojo like a ton of bricks. He stays silent for a moment, his face looking like he’s in a slight panic. “But... (Y/N)..." He takes a step towards you, trying to take your hand. He sounds desperate when he speaks to you now.

“Do you really mean that?” He looks at you with a sad, but pleading look in his eyes. Gojo's hands go to his sides as he tries to look as small as he can. “If you give me one last chance, I'll be the best boyfriend ever. I promise.” His voice breaks a bit.

“Gojo.” Your voice is warning now, you don’t want to deal with this even further, knowing that you might say something you’ll regret later.

He goes quiet for a moment, looking down at the floor and adjusting his glasses. He seems to be holding himself back from saying anything. “Okay.” His voice is soft, almost like a whisper. “I'll just go then, and leave you alone, like you want.”

“I’m sorry...” You can see him taking off his glasses and wipe his eyes slightly as he leaves. “But you better not forget that I love you. I always will.” He turns his head slightly to look back at you.

He starts to walk away before he suddenly stops and turns back.

“Oh, right…” He suddenly reaches into his pocket and takes out a single rose. He offers it to you with a sad smile. “Here, this is for you.” His hand stays outstretched, holding the rose close to you. “I hope you’ll forgive me.”

“If you’ll take this, that is. Please?” Gojo’s voice sounds desperate and he gives you a soft, almost puppy-like look. His eyes are filled with longing as he gazes at you, the rose held out in his hand.

“I'm not accepting your apology and your confession.” You cross your arms and look away, unconsciously letting the words impulsively spill out from your upset mind.

The small smile quickly disappears from Gojo’s face as your reply reaches his ears. He stares at you as you speak in disbelief. “Huh?”

“Why not?” His hand slowly starts to lower by his side, the rose he holds slowly falling onto the ground. “After everything I’ve done for you?” His voice sounds confused as he starts to speak slowly. “You’re still not going to accept?”

“Loving you will just hurt me in the end.” You don’t even know what you’re saying.

You’re hurt from what he did, from what he said. And your mind is telling you to hurt him back.

You don’t want to, but you did it anyway.

“How could you say that?” He quickly steps forward. The rose still lies abandoned at your feet. “How could loving me ever hurt you?” He looks at you with a confused expression.

“(Y/N), I just— I don’t understand how that makes any sense.” His voice quickly turns from confusion to anger. “I’ve spent months trying to make you mine and now you’re telling me ‘it doesn’t matter’?”

You roll your eyes in annoyance, “It’s you who are the one so persistent. Don’t blame me if you don’t get what you want.”

Your comment catches Gojo off guard, making his jaw clenches. “You don’t mean that…” Another hurt expression creeps onto Gojo’s face.

“I just love you too much, okay? Is that so wrong?” He starts to step towards you while talking. “I don’t care how hard it is, I don’t care how much it hurts, I just— want to love you, (Y/N).”

Your lips tremble, trying to surpass your mixed emotion. “Don't expect me to return your love, then.” You walk past him, stepping on the small rose petal that he dropped on the floor earlier. Like you’re stepping on his feelings.

“Wait—” Gojo quickly tries to grab your hand, stopping you from moving away as quickly as you were trying to.

“I’m telling you, I’ll make this up to you. Just give me some time, please.” He looks at you desperately, still clutching onto your wrist. “I can change, (Y/N). You just have to give me the chance.”

“Give me a chance, will ya? Just let my love wash over you and let me sweep you off your feet.” His voice sounds almost like a plea now. “You’ll be so happy, I know you will.”

“You say you won’t let love hurt you, but that’s exactly what love is all about.” He says softly. “Love makes you want it even when it hurts.”

You wriggle your wrist in his hold, your eyes keep glaring at him. “Just stop trying. I don’t want it.”

“No, I can't.” The frustration clearly reaches his voice. “I need you to know how much I love you, (Y/N). Please just hear me out, alright?” His expression is starting to become pleading again

“I can't stop now. I just— I know you're the right one. I will not give up on convincing you. Just— just don't walk away. I'll do whatever it takes, alright?”

You’re listening, to every single word he says. But with your emotions right now, you act like you didn’t.

“Gojo.” You say his name sternly again. “Let me go.”

He shakes his head stubbornly and pulls you into a tight hug. “You don't mean any of the cold things you're saying, do you?” His voice sounds desperate as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“I can't give up now. I'm in too deep and you know I can't back down.”

You grasp the side of his uniform. “Please, stop.”

“You're just lying to yourself. I know you don't mean any of this.” He pulls back slightly and looks at you intensely, his tone now annoyed. “I just want to love you. I want to make you happy. Is that so hard to understand?”

He cups your face gently despite the tense situation and a frown on his face. You could see his emotions clearly without his glasses.

“Look into my eyes and tell me you don't care.” Gojo looks at you as if trying to prove a point.

You stay silent, not knowing what to say because he’s right, before saying the only thing that crosses your mind, “I don't want to deal with you right now.”

He doesn't speak for a moment, he looks conflicted, and he takes a small step back. “Alright.” He sighs quietly and looks at you for a few moments.

“I'll let go of you now.”

“But I'm not giving up yet.” He gives you a brief smile before turning away. “I promise I'll make it up to you.”

The weight of the air changes as Gojo’s presence fades into the background. He leaves, his hands in his pockets.

A couple of days have passed and you and Gojo are still not on the best of terms. You continue to avoid talking to him and any interactions you have to have seem cold and awkward.

Gojo, on the other hand, is still determined to make you return his feelings.

He seems to have accepted that you’re avoiding him now. Despite this, you’ll occasionally catch him glancing at you from across the room as if longing for the moment when you’ll finally forgive him and give him a chance.

You two still have many of the same classes together, so you’re practically bound to be in the same room even if you avoid each other as much as possible.

It makes Geto and Shoko confused because— what just happened between you two?

You were lovey-dovey the other day, and distant now.

Ah, young, stupid love.

You find it hard to talk to him without getting annoyed or frustrated at him. And yet, you find yourself wondering where he is or what he’s doing. You find yourself paying more attention to him than you should.

Until one day, you can’t find him anywhere after lessons.

You walk around the school casually as if you’re not looking for him.

The weather is windy, and it looks like it's about to rain. The wind blows softly on your hair, and the breeze has an oddly refreshing feeling that is not too far from the start of a rainstorm.

You finally found him on the stairs that lead to the training field. The place where he confessed with many red rose petals on the grass, hours of effort to surprise you and make you happy, all put to waste.

You remember smiling the whole time you picked up the petals once he left, replaying the words over and over again in your head.

You kept them inside a small bag where you cherished thousands of rose petals of his love declaration for you.

His head is ducked down against his arms on his knees as if taking a break. His glasses have fallen on the ground. One of his hands holds a single rose, the bright shade of red almost looking artificial in its vibrancy.

“Gojo?” You call out to him, soft and quiet, for the first time after days of not talking to him.

Gojo’s head jerks towards you and his eyes quickly open as he sees you walking towards him. He doesn’t immediately speak, instead focusing on observing your every move with a thoughtful expression on his face.

His hand shifts, the rose he holds changing position in his grip.

“(Y/N)?” He looks at you, his eyes wider than usual. He looks down at the rose in his hand and smiles briefly. The wind gently blows his hair as he glances at you.

“It's been a while.” He says awkwardly. “How have you been?”

You sit down next to him, looking at the field as you enjoy the breeze. “Good… maybe.” You answer shortly, not sure if you can say you’re actually okay. “You?”

“I've been better.” His voice is slightly quieter than normal as he places the rose next to him. “I feel bad for the stuff that happened between us a few days ago.” He looks at you before speaking up again. “I'm still sorry.”

A couple of seconds pass as neither of you speak. Both of you seem hesitant to start a conversation after what happened last time.

“I know we haven’t spoken in a few days, but I just want to say...“ He stops talking briefly before continuing to speak again. “... I understand if you don't want to speak to me and I'm sure you're still mad, but—“

He hands you the flower. “The rose is for you. I picked it up for you earlier.”

You accept the rose. “Thank you.” You say quietly. “Why were you picking up roses?”

“No reason, really.” He answers casually while looking out towards the field. “I just saw it and I thought of you. I was thinking of you.”

“That’s sweet.” You admire the rose in your hand. He must have chosen the best one from the garden, it might be the most beautiful one he gave you.

The rose on your hand is like a silent confession and apology. It reminds you of the single rose petal that he dropped on the floor and you step on back then.

You noticed how he was more reserved around you ever since that talk in the empty hallway, and you just need to know, “Are you okay?”

He sighs and looks away, avoiding your gaze. He doesn't say anything for a couple of seconds, giving you an answer that sounds less than truthful. “Yeah, I'm fine.” He then looks at you again. “Don't worry so much about me.”

A brief moment of silence passes. Gojo glances down at the rose next to him for a few seconds before looking back at you. “What are you doing out here?”

This time, you’re glad that you let the word slip out, “I was looking for you.”

He looks at you with eyes filled with curiosity. “Why were you looking for me?” His voice sounds softer now. “Did you need something?” A faint smile appears on his face as he continues to look at you.

“Is this a chance at reconciliation?” He gives a half-hearted chuckle as he asks, deep down hoping you’ll accept him, again.

“Or were you missing me that much already?” The teasing tone is back but it holds some genuine curiosity and a hint of hope. “Are you finally trying to admit that you missed having me around?” He glances at you from the corner of his eye.

His hand picks up a single fallen rose petal next to his feet. He quickly grabs it and places it on your hand that is still holding the rose with a small smile on his face.

Your lips tremble at his gesture as you try to hold back the tears and you look away to calm yourself down with a few small deep breaths before looking down at the rose.

“You were right.”

“About what?” He asks in response as he looks at you. “What's right?”

“About that day, when we argue.” You admit. “You were right... I didn't mean what I said. I was just too upset with you that time.”

“Well, I did take things too far.” His expression softens as you speak. “I made you angry that day.”

You look down at the rose once more before looking at him again to ask the same question, “Are you really okay?”

The question is clearly getting to him and his small smile soon fades away. He looks away from you, giving his answer carefully. “Not really.” He finally admits. His voice is softer, almost sad.

“I know I screwed things up between us.” A couple of more seconds pass. “I know I messed it up bad this time.”

“But, can I tell you something?” He looks at you expectantly.

“Yes. Of course.” You keep your eyes on him, listening for what he has to say.

“I know I've made a lot of mistakes, but I still want to keep trying. You know how I feel about you… I haven't changed my mind either.” He looks at you for a few moments.

“I also know I’ve kind of, well… been bothering you this whole time.” He chuckles awkwardly. “I just can’t seem to get you off my mind.”

“Can’t escape those eyes either…” His eyes are slowly lured towards your own. His expression is almost pensive. “I just want to be with you, (Y/N).”

He looks in front of the fields, recalling that morning when he lays every single rose petal on the grass, only hoping that it could impress you.

He also recalls his first confession to you because of a dare from Geto. He already liked you before then, the dare was just the first small step that his best friends have set up for him.

He sighs again, “Maybe you're right. My love is doomed to fail... but I can't stop loving you, even though you don't feel the same.” He pauses for a few seconds before adding, “I keep trying so hard because it’s you.”

Small droplets fall from the gloomy sky and the wind blows softly, making the tiny droplets of rain feel like a slight sprinkle of coolness across your skin. The wind picks up, the few raindrops turning into a drizzle.

Gojo doesn’t mind the rain. He’s pouring out his heart like the cloud is pouring out rain right now, it increases in volume.

You stand up and kneel down in front of him, still holding the rose with one hand and another cupping his cheek, noticing how sad his eyes look.

You finally say the words he’s been desperate to hear, and they roll out your tongue just right,

“I love you, too.”

Gojo stares at you in disbelief, his eyes slowly widening as he processes your words. He remains motionless for a few seconds, unsure of how to respond. His eyes look shocked for a moment as if he truly did not expect these words from you.

“Huh?” He seems unable to register your words or understand fully what you mean. The rain drops down on his face, but he's too distracted to care.

“What did you just say?” He takes in a breath and turns your head to him. “Did you just— I'm sorry, can you repeat that again? Please…” He seems almost too stunned to respond properly.

You smile as you look at him deep in his wide eyes before saying it again with much more assuringly, “I love you.”

The rain continues to fall and Gojo lets the words sink in. “You love me too?” He repeats, as if trying to make sense of the words.

“You mean it?” He stares at you with hopeful eyes, looking between you and the rose in your hand as if trying to convince himself you really did just say the words he thought he heard.

“Please tell me I didn't misunderstand you earlier.” He sounds almost too shocked, to the point where he almost doubts your words.

You shake your head with a smile remaining on your face. “No, you didn’t.” Your thumb slowly caresses the wet skin of his cheek.

“You really aren't kidding?” He smiles for a moment before his face turns into one of pure surprise again. “You're— you're not just saying that to mess with me, right?” He looks at you as if expecting a joke to follow your response.

“Say it again. Say the words once more.”

You can’t help but chuckle at his reaction, but you don’t mind saying it over and over again just for him.

“Satoru.” You finally called him by his given name. “I love you. I always do.”

His eyes still wide with surprise he blinks rapidly before a wave of realization passes over his face as he stares at you earnestly.

“You mean it, right?” He holds onto your hand. His expression goes from surprised to happy in just a split second. He looks at you with genuine joy as his eyes light up.

“Say it again, (Y/N). Say it again.” This time, his voice sounds less desperate and more like a request. “It would make me so happy to hear it one more time.”

“How many times do you want me to say this?” You chuckle in amusement, but you say it again anyway, “I’m absolutely in love with you.” You say it once more with a bit of exaggeration but you mean it regardless.

His hand starts to reach out to your face. “Now come here. I'm dying to finally kiss you.” His voice is soft, filled with all the anticipation from those past few months.

He pulls you closer, settling you between his thighs, almost on his lap as he pulls you into a strong embrace. He grips your body tightly to him as the rain begins to pour harder.

“I've waited long enough to kiss you,” Gojo says as he brings his face close to yours. You feel your heart beating faster now as his warm breath tickles your skin. Gojo's eyes seem as intense now as the first time he confessed to you.

“Can you say you want it too?” His eyes search yours in anticipation. “Say you want my kiss.”

“Can I have your kiss?” You do what he said with an extra, “Please?”

“That's what I needed to hear.” He smiles and leans down slowly, “Let's make this a good one.” He pressed his soft lips on yours as soon as he finished his sentence. The touch is gentle but passionate, the feeling of his body keeping you warm against the rain falling down on both of you.

He kisses you deeply, with all the pent-up emotion from those past few months, and he leans back after a little while and stares at you, grinning from ear to ear as rain droplets run down your face.

He didn’t say a word before he leaned to kiss you again. He holds you close, bringing you in tight as he runs his fingers through your hair.

His lips are cold in the rain, but they feel good on yours. His warm breath mingles with yours and his arms hold you close. Your lips tingle with the sensation of the cold rain while your body feels the warmth of his body against yours.

His eyes are shut tight and his lips almost seem hungry for yours. He doesn't seem to want to break away from the kiss as his hand holds your cheek to him.

As the rain falls heavily around you, Gojo’s passion seems to burn hotter as he holds you close.

He pulls away and his voice is barely audible as he speaks to you. “I'm glad you finally admitted it.”

“Yeah, it took me long enough.” You say that more to yourself.

Both of you are completely soaked from the rain, his hair is sticking to his forehead and both of your clothes are wet.

“Well, it looks like you already said the magic words.” He leans in and kisses your forehead before standing up and pulling you up as well. “How about another kiss then, since you're already so talkative?”

“Give it to me, then.” You put both hands on his shoulder, one still holding the rose.

“Gladly.” He doesn't hesitate in leaning on you again, wrapping his arm around your waist more intimately and pulling you closer to him.

He pressed his lips against yours in a deeper kiss. If possible, Gojo seems even more affectionate than usual as he pulls you into a tight embrace, his tongue finding a home inside your mouth and his hand gently gripping the material of your uniform.

A faint sound escapes from his throat after a couple of minutes, almost like he's trying to catch his breath. “I love you, (Y/N).”

You’re breathless from the kiss, “I love you, too.” You nuzzle your nose on his.

“I'm so happy...” His voice is filled with emotion, like he's completely intoxicated with love towards you. His grip on you loosens slightly, though he still holds you close.

“Are we dating then?” He smiles at you and brings his hand up to pat your head. “I just want things to be official between us.”

“Hmm, I think so.” You rest your cheek on his body, enjoying the closeness of your body.

His smile widens as he presses his lips against your forehead. “I want you to know, I don't want to have secrets between us.” He runs his fingers through your wet hair. “I want to have more moments like this.” He pulls you closer again, this time placing a kiss on your lips again.

Gojo takes one of your hands between his own, feeling the rose that you kept on holding in your hand as he gently rubs your fingers.

“You're mine, right?”

“Always yours.”

The rose was his heart. You accepted it once and you stepped on it once. He gave you his once more, and you hold it close to your heart.

Writing confession 5 and 6 got me emotional ಥ‿ಥ

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peachysunrize · 4 months ago

Text

[ TANGERINE DREAMS ]

Summary: Summary: being stood up on his wedding day, Aemond’s life takes a turn for the worse. Heartbroken and humiliated, he finds unexpected help in Helaena’s childhood friend, who helps him move back into his family mansion. Summer cocktail parties and a long stay at the Targaryen residency, Aemond might let the girl who’s always been in his life make a home in his heart.

Tangerines, in general, symbolize prosperity, good luck and happiness. So if these delicious fruits appear in your dreams - whole or in the form of juice - it is usually very positive. A dream with tangerines expresses the desire and the possibility of progress and prosperity

Word count: 4.9k+

Warnings: fluff & Angst! English isn’t my first language<3

A/n: hello beauties!! Here’s the 2nd chap of our summer romance!!! A bit of a build up and messy Aemy because why not? The next chapters will be longer but this one no and I’m so sorry I was dealing with a writer’s block this week but I managed to get this one out!!! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated<3

Taglist: if you’d like to be added to the taglist, please fill this form with your username!!

Updates: every Saturday!!

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Chapter 2: under the Weirwood tree

“Aemond!”

Aegon bangs on the library door like a fucking toddler, making Aemond sigh and groan as he continues to slam his fist on the wooden door.

“What?” He says with a jab in his tone, his fingers toying with the edge of the page he was reading a few seconds ago, “Open the fucking door already, or you’ll break it down, idiot.”

“That’s not a nice way to talk to your older brother,” Aegon kisses his teeth as he pushes the door open, an unbelievably large smile on his face. He strides towards Aemond’s desk with a mug of black coffee in his hand, walking with a skip in his steps, “especially now that you will spend your summer with us! How lovely—“

“Shut up already and give me my coffee,” Aemond grumbles, reaching for the mug but Aegon pulls it back, keeping it out of his reach.

“Tsk, tsk, absolutely not!” Aegon says, faking a frown as he looks at his younger brother, “You’re being so rude for someone who wears glasses with one prosthetic eye—“

“For fuck sake,” Aemond groans, grabbing the glasses before he takes them off, pinching the bridge of his nose, “why must you always be so insufferable?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Aegon shrugs, plopping down on the seat in front of Aemond’s desk, “it’s my responsibility to make sure you are entertained and not bored to death with these—“ he scrunches his face as he fiddles with his younger brother’s book, “what the fuck is this? Are you reading a history book in High Valyrian? You’re insane.”

“When was the last time you read a book?” Aemond looks at his older brother with a smug expression, “At least between the two of us someone is using his brain.”

“No wonder Alys left you—“

They both freeze, not a single sound can be heard in the room as Aegon very very slowly looks at Aemond, gulping when he sees his younger brother’s good eye glaring daggers at him.

“Shit—I’m, fucking shit, I’m so so sorry—“ he tries to get up and hug Aemond but all he receives is being pushed back on his seat with a defeated sigh from the younger Targaryen.

“Don’t talk for a moment, I want to enjoy my coffee in silence,” Aemond shakes his head before he brings the hot mug to his lips, taking a gentle sip from it, “did you make this?” He asks, his good eye wide and surprised as he looks at Aegon.

“No, why?”

“It’s perfect,” he whispers as he takes a huge gulp from the coffee, humming as the hot steaming liquid hits his tongue, “you could never make a cup of coffee like this.”

“You have Hel’s bestie to thank for that,” Aegon shrugs, “besides, I hate coffee, can never understand how you drink this stuff.”

“Of course, only horrible cocktails can keep you on your toes,” Aemond scoffs, finishing his coffee with a hum of pleasure, fighting back a smile when he hears you have made his coffee, “how did she know how I like my coffee?”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Aegon leans back, his eyes never leaving Aemond, “how are you feeling?”

“Hmm?” Aemond asks, confused and surprised by his brother’s question.

Their relationship is… quite complicated. They love each other, but at the same time, they want to strangle and knock the breath out of the other’s lungs. They wish to be able to have civil conversations, but in Aemond’s head, Aegon always says something that makes him see red.

“We haven’t talked much ever since… you know,” Aegon sighs, running a hand through his tangled hair, “I understand though, not that I understand it as if I have experienced it or ever for that, I’ll probably never do because I mean who would want to leave someone like me—“

“I get it,” Aemond raises his hand to stop his brother, “you try to be sympathetic, I appreciate that, but you suck at it,” he says, standing up to put the book back in its place, waking Vhagar up with a few head scratches before he makes his way toward the door, Aegon following behind.

“Yeah, not my thing,” Aegon shoves his hands in the pockets of his shorts, walking side by side with his brother, entering the buzzing kitchen together, “well, good morning ladies and you kid!” Daeron fakes a cry when Aegon pats his back roughly, making him choke on his tea.

“Leave him alone,” Hel announces, walking towards the kitchen island with two big plates filled with waffles and ice cream, “he’s had a rough night.”

“Why?” Aemond asks before spotting you behind Helaena, walking with a plate of fresh fruits, “hi.”

“Good morning, Lil nerd! How did you sleep last night?” You ask him, giving him a quick hug, sitting on your chair next to him, “Hopefully not stuck in the library like the past week?”

“No,” chuckles, taking his seat, “I actually went to bed, I had to put away a few things Alys sent back from the house.”

“Oh, did she contact you?” You ask hesitantly, plopping a small grape into your mouth as Helaena cuts the waffles for everyone, “you don’t have to answer, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, no, don’t worry,” he shakes his head, reaching to take an apple from your plate, “she didn’t contact me, well, she kind of did but it was just a note in the boxes she sent.”

“She’s such a bitch.”

“Helaena!” You laugh out loud, throwing your head back when Aegon says her name in shock — one thing Hel’s family doesn’t know about her is how fiercely protective she is of her loved ones, even if it’s mostly in secret.

“Sister—“

“Sorry, sorry!” She sits down with a soft laugh, “she gets on my nerves, you know? I can’t control it.”

“We know, babe,” you pass her the fruit plate, bringing a bite of waffle to your mouth after you say, “Don’t think about it anymore, we’re trying to get your brother to move on!”

“Yeah!” Aegon tries to join the conversation but soon gets distracted, “damn girl, how can you eat a whole ass plate of berries and grapes this early in the morning?”

“It’s near noon, dumbass,” Daeron scoffs, leaving the kitchen with a hot cup of tea.

“She loves to have fruit for breakfast, especially sweet oranges and tangerines!” Helaena exclaims.

“Not sure when it started but it’s now a part of my morning routine,” you shrug, handing Aemond a few strawberries to put on his waffles, “and what about you? How do you manage to have Gin Tonic with your breakfast?”

“I haven’t had any since I arrived here!” He whines, pouting as he stands up and steals a few grapes from your hand, “fuck off you know my cocktails are the best.”

“I’m not boosting your ego until you give me a good Sex on the beach.”

“Atta girl!” He high-fives you before making his way towards the refrigerator to grab a snack for himself even though he’s had breakfast with you.

“Morning, darlings,” Alicent walks in, her auburn curls moving with each step as she stands between you and Aemond, reaching to pull Aemond in for a half hug with a kiss on the crown of his head.

“Morning, Mum,” he replies, rubbing her forearm with one hand, giving her a rare smile he only gives her and Helaena occasionally.

“How are you? Are you feeling better?” She asks her son, putting her hand lovingly on your shoulder, “I hope you’re settling in nicely.”

“I am, I have you and others to thank for that,” Aemond answers, glancing at you, giving a quick smile before he looks back at his mother, “Well, no thanks to Aegon who’s been up my ass since I came here—“

“I was nothing but nice to you, little shit—“

“Stop—“ Alicent tries to end their banter, but to no one’s surprise, she is not successful.

“Should I thank you for that?” Aemond cranes his neck to look at his older brother whose jaw is on the floor, the sandwich is frozen mid-air close to his lips, “because that’s the least you have done.”

“As if I didn’t help you carry that huge fucking vanity mirror upstairs—“

“You just held one corner of it, you child—“

“Stop, just fucking stop!” Alicent yells, making everyone gasp when she swears, “What now?”

“You swore,” Helaena says, grinning at her mother.

“It’s not my first time, I’m not a kid—“

“But you always tell us to mind our language,” Aegon matches Helaena’s grin, walking to stand beside you, “unless…”

“Leave her alone, please,” Aemond stands up and kisses Alicent’s forehead, “she’s been hanging with Criston for far too long, I’m afraid.”

“Hush you!” Alicent slaps his arm playfully, “How have you been, truly? Is there anything me or all of us can do for you?”

“I’m okay, Mum,” he tries to budge, to not let anyone see through the facade he’s been holding up since Alys sent his things to him, or what in particular has been sent, “don’t worry.”

“How can I not worry, darling? You haven’t talked to anyone about it! You are ignoring your grandfather’s calls—“

“I could care fucking less about what he has to say!” His voice booms through the room, shocking everyone to their core.

You had realized how short his temper had become ever since the incident, but to raise his voice at his mother was not something you would see coming. Maybe he is hurting more than anyone — even himself who says it’s okay, it’s alright, I’m fine — ever imagined.

“I apologize,” and with that he leaves the kitchen, stealing Helaena’s cup of tea on his way as he enters the TV room, finding Daeron wandering through the channels, stopping only when a headline catches his attention.

Aemond Targaryen’s ex-fiance spotted with a new lover!

Hello and good morning to our lovely audience! I’m Simon Strong and we are here with the newest celebrity gossip of Westeros! It wasn’t long ago when we heard the news of our very infamous couple’s break up, and now, only a month gone, Alys Rivers, Aemond Targaryen’s ex-fiance was spotted being too friendly with a colleague of hers!

But that is not the only news we have for you!

A few days ago Miss Rivers had done an interview with our reporter, she said and I quote; “Being with a man who can’t stand up against others who hurt you is a bad choice. I waited and watched him treat me as if I meant nothing to him, and it is something Targaryens are most famous for — their money and huge egos!”

The sound of a loud crash makes Daeron jump, and he sees the hot tea run down Aemond’s wounded hand — he breaks the cup in his fist and drops the remaining on the floor.

“Aemond, shit—“ Daeron jumps over the back of the couch, grabbing Aemond’s hand as he examines his bloodied palm. The cuts aren’t deep but many little open and bleeding wounds cover his skin.

Aemond’s head is foggy, he can’t think or function at that. Alys moving on was something he was ready to deal with, he knew she must have been cheating on him during their relationship, but to say such hurtful words to the press made him question everything.

What was the point of their relationship if all Alys wanted to do was ruin him and his reputation? Surely after being dismissed by his father at the council alongside Aegon, his reputation became nonexistent.

Alys was everything to Aemond, she was his light, the only glimmer of hope in his darkest moments. She was the only person who would curse this world with him and keep him safe in their bubble of joy.

Apparently, it was only Aemond who felt that unconditional love.

With a heavy heart, he pulls his hand out of Daeron’s grasp, and with heavy steps, he walks upstairs to his room, ignoring the calls of his name as he did on his wedding day.

No words have been spoken between Alys and him for the past month, absolutely none, except for the note she sent with that cursed box. To see her being so happy and doing interviews about their relationship makes him see red, but somewhere beneath this blinding rage, Alys’ words poke at his open wounds, having him bleeding from the gaping holes worse than before.

He pushes his bedroom door open, standing in the doorway for a second to gather his thoughts; the thoughts he has been burying deep down so he wouldn’t have to deal with them for a long time.

He sits on the edge of his bed, his fingers shaking with an unknowing fear. He knows everyone must have seen the news, his father, his grandfather, his sister, and her children.

The humiliation is inevitable now, thanks to his ex, even though he tried his best not to get caught in the whirlwind of the questions the media threw at him. Nothing can be changed now, not his public image, not his personal life, and certainly not how his family perceives him.

He runs his hand over his face, exhaling shakily as he repeats the words he heard on the news; being with a man who can’t stand up against those who hurt you is a bad choice. And all his life, through the years he stayed by her side, she did not need to ask him to stand up for her because he was already beating the guys to the pulp, getting into fights for her, but when it came to him she never reciprocated.

He remembers how he caught her texting one of his father’s employers on his twenty-first birthday, and he was so naive and stupid to let go of it when she said she just wanted to apply for a job to get closer to him, to Aemond, and he so easily believed her honey-coated words.

The sound of his phone ringing brings him out of his thoughts, making him sigh in exhaustion as he reaches into his pocket to pull it out, his grip tightening when he sees his grandfather’s name on the screen. He has probably seen the news and is ready to blame Aemond for the mess like he always does.

“Morning—“

“How could you not see this coming?” Otto’s voice is loud enough for him to distance the phone from his ear, closing his eye as he listens to his grandfather’s yells, “We worked so hard to keep your relationship out of the public eye, but now thanks to your idiocy the world knows about how you treated her!”

“No one knows anything about our relationship,” he replies, his tone cool and collected but he knows deep down he is one single moment away from breaking, “her words are nothing but lies—“

“Lies or not, you threw your reputation away because of a woman who was nothing before meeting you! Now it’s not just you who will pay the price, it’s your family, it’s our company!” Otto says, his words cutting Aemond like a knife being twisted in his ribcage, and what hurts the most about it is that Otto is not wrong.

Aemond introduced Alys to their company, and to his friends, got her a job, and made her famous, hell he even paid for the last year of her law school! He was an idiot for believing she was there for him, but what else could he do?

He was in love.

“I could care less about Viserys’ appearance and company! She left me, I can’t control what she says, I can’t control what she fucking does!” Aemond yells back, his patience finally being ripped away, “My reputation was shattered the moment you let Viserys’ daughter get her hands on our lives. She set the cameras up when Alys left the church because no one knew when the wedding would take place and you turned a fucking blind eye to it!”

“You need to sort out the mess you created by letting that witch take advantage of your generosity,” Otto groans in annoyance, “not generosity, no, your idiocy, your childishness and immaturity. You were a fucking child when you started seeing her! The scandal we had to cover — when the twenty years old younger son of Viserys Targaryen kissed a twenty-eight years old woman in King’s Landing — spread like fucking fire in Westeros and all our stocks’ worth dropped—“

“My fiance left me!” Aemond’s voice finally breaks when he looks up and sees you entering his room with a worried expression, his eye glistening with tears, “She left me on our wedding day! How cruel can you be? I spent days away from the streets to protect your precious status and reputation, I isolated myself for weeks because I didn’t have the strength to stand up and walk outside! Did you even think about how I felt? Did you, Otto, or all you could care about was Rhaenyra’s next move? How will the world see us now?”

You sit next to him on the bed in silence, and for once, he hate your presence, he hates the way you look at him with worried eyes and open ears, ready to take his pain away, trying to be his friend.

“I do not have time to deal with your childish tantrums, either you will accept that you are ruining this family and help me clear up your mess, or we will have a fucking problem—“

“Listen, Otto, I won’t do anything about this. You’re a fucking asshole for kissing Viserys’ ass for so long that you have forgotten how horribly he is treating us. All you care about is to make him look better, so no, I won’t take responsibility for something I haven’t done!” He hangs up, throwing the phone on the bed before he groans in disbelief, hiding his face in his hands, “what do you want?”

You look at him, confusion is evident on your face as he asks you the question in a very serious tone. He knows he shouldn’t be treating you, out of everyone like this, but at this moment he can’t help but let his anger consume him.

“I thought I should check up on you,” you respond quietly, looking at him with a sympathetic smile, “I saw the news.”

“Who hasn’t,” he scoffs, shaking his in annoyance, looking down at his bruised and bloody hand before he meets your gaze, “that’s very sweet of you.”

“Maybe I can be of help somehow if you tell me what you need—“

“I don’t need help,” he glares at you before huffing out his breath, his nails digging into his wounds as he fists his hand.

“Let me see your hand,” you try to reach out and grab his wrist gently but he pulls back harshly, startling you with his attitude, “Aemond, please—“

“What do you gain from this?” He asks suddenly, “What do you achieve by being nice to me? I don’t get it, you have everything you need; money, friends, a good job, I can’t give you anything.”

“You are my friend, I want to help you because you’re going through something so so hurtful and I don’t wish to see you so upset—“

“Pity,” he chuckles sarcastically, standing up to pace his room, “so you pity me! How very generous of you to come here with an excuse to check up on me while all you feel for me is fucking pity!”

“That’s not true,” you shake your head desperately, standing up to reach and take his hand in yours but he puts a good distance between the two of you, his glare never faltering, “I understand your pain and despair! I’ve been through the same situation. I know how much you must be doubting yourself, how you think all of this is your fault—“

“You have no idea what I’m feeling. You, the self-centered childhood friend of my sister who has seen so little of how I’ve been treated, think you know me,” Aemond raises his voice, his tone cuts deep into your bones and he sees it, he sees how your eyes fill with tears and how you shake your head in disbelief.

“I’ve been there with you all of your life, Little nerd. I watched you grow up, and I don’t pity you because I understand you, and because you’re my friend,” you sniff, wiping the single tear that falls on your cheek, “you should be upset about everything, hell you should be so fucking mad, but to say I pity you? I could never even think about upsetting you, let alone showing some fake sympathy to gain what? I want you to be happy—“

Aemond looks at you for a long minute, his hands balled into fists on his side as he tries to keep his breathing under control, his mind reeling with regret and anger; at himself, at Otto, at everyone but you. And yet, he treated you worse than others.

He leaves you alone in his room, marching downstairs to the library without glancing at anyone, especially Alicent who calls his name pleadingly. Aemond locks himself in there with Vhagar who jogged alongside him to the room, huffing and barking happily while he sits on the couch near the window, letting his tears stream down his cheek.

He doesn’t go out of the room for lunch and isolates himself from the outer world, letting himself get distracted by his books and Vhagar who happily cuddles him with her huge body while he reads.

After a few hours near the sunset, he hears a soft voice telling him that everyone’s going outside to the backyard near the Weirwood tree, spending the nice afternoon outdoors.

He doesn't respond, just grunts, and goes back to reading, even though he knows he should stand up and follow you there, beg for forgiveness, and apologize to you, but he can’t bring himself to do so. Not when he feels so ashamed of how horrible he has treated you.

After much thinking, he decides to get up and take a walk with Vhagar towards where you said you’d be. He grabs Vhagar’s favorite ball and claps for her to follow him. The pair walks outside the house, the fresh evening wind blows over their heads, and Aemond feels he can finally breathe.

Vhagar happily wiggles her tail as he spots the group sitting on the grass with Aegon telling a shitty hilarious story while drinking beer together, sharing a laughter or two. Sunfyre and Dreamfyre, Aegon & Helaena’s Golden Retrievers, are playing together, running and jumping on each other under the sunlight.

He spots you lying on the grass, resting your back on Helaena’s chest while the two of you listen to Aegon and Daeron’s bantering, giggling, and sharing a can of beer — you look so happy, and that makes Aemond stop dead in his tracks, having him second guessing whether he should be approaching you and others after how he talked to you.

“Oi, why are you so late?” Aegon asks, bending down to grab and throw a can of beer at him, “You almost missed the sunset.”

“I didn’t know if I wanted to come and tolerate your stupid jokes,” Aemond catches the beer, throwing Vhagar’s ball for her to catch before his good eye finds yours, but he looks away immediately, too ashamed and disgusted by his earlier behavior to even look at you.

“Ignore him,” Helaena says to her older brother then looks at Aemond, patting the place next to her for him to sit, “Come on, join us.”

“Fine,” he whispers, catching you giving him a small encouraging smile. Vhagar runs back with her ball caught between her teeth, dropping it before she makes herself comfortable on top of you, resting her head on your stomach.

“Hello, my old lady,” you coo at her, scratching behind her ears and back, chuckling at how happily she starts waggling her tail, “I’ve missed you so much.”

“So!” Aegon claps his hand to gain everyone’s attention, “I was talking before our gracious pirate interrupted me—“

“I haven’t used my eyepatch since I moved out,” Aemond grunts, thanking you quietly when handed him your beer so he doesn’t need to open his.

“Whatever, it still doesn’t change the fact that you look like a fucking pirate even with your prosthetic eye!”

“Leave him alone!” Daeron whines, “Please just continue whatever you were telling us.”

“Alright, so…”

Aemond doesn’t listen to what Aegon has to say, his eye trails from Vhagar’s sleepy face to yours, smiling and laughing at Aegon’s story. He can’t bring himself to think about how bad his words must have hurt, especially since he made you cry.

You turn around, meeting his gaze, reaching to grab the beer from his hand, giving him a reassuring smile in return, mouthing a silent ‘later’ so he knows you two will talk and you won’t be left in the dark.

“Shut up now, wanna watch the sunset without your annoying voice,” Daeron pulls his brother down to sit next to him, their backs resting against the Weirwood tree as everyone looks at the orange and pink hue of the sky, the sun slowly hiding behind the mountains.

“Get up kids, dinner’s on me!” Aegon smacks the back of Daeron’s head playfully, making the youngest Targaryen whine in pain before he also gets up and follows his brother inside the house.

“Order something in case he burns the house down,” you and Helaena get up as well, laughing at what Daeron said.

“You know what,” you say quietly, unlacing your fingers with Hel, making her turn around and look at you, “I think I’m gonna stay a little more.”

Aemond looks at his sister, nodding at her as she leaves the two of you alone. He watches you turn around and step towards him, sitting on the grass next to him just like you did on his wedding day.

“Hey you,”

“Hey,” he laughs softly, resting his head on the tree as he looks at you, matching your smile, “I’m sorry…”

“I know you are,” you take a deep breath, looking up at the sky, “you are under lots of pressure now, Little nerd, I understand that.”

“Do you forgive me?” He asks, his voice so fragile and little as if he were a child, “because I’d hate to ruin your summer just because of my temper. I’m sorry, I’ll get on my knees and beg you too.”

“You are forgiven,” you laugh softly, “but I meant it when I said that I understand. I wholeheartedly understand how you feel, Aemond, it wasn’t out of pity.”

“I know, shit, I know but I was so pissed at Otto I couldn’t get my emotions under control,” he sighs, “not that any of these are good excuses, and I’m really sorry.”

“Do you remember that time when I wouldn’t come over here at family gatherings? Hel must have told you all about my breakup.”

“Yeah, I remember…” he says, nodding as you continue.

“It was a rough four months of trying to get my shit together after Jason fucking Lannister stood me up,” you smile bitterly at the memory.

“He did what?” The shock on Aemond’s face only makes you laugh harder, “why didn’t we know about this?”

“Because I told Hel not to say anything,” you shrug, “yeah, you’re not the only one who had the pleasure of being stood up by a jerk. Anyway, we were together for a year, and everything was…hmm not too good but not too bad either. I liked him, maybe loved him even I don’t know I think I saw a future with him and I wanted my parents to meet him. I called him one day, took him out, paid for everything so I could tell him about the dinner my parents were planning.”

“All of this just for him to be a douchebag?” He teases you.

“Oh yeah,” you both laugh, “at first he was so open and lovely about this idea, but then… well the date came my parents and I were all looking around the restaurant all dumb and upset… I was the dumb one because I trusted a Lannister of all people but I liked him so much, and when I received a text from him after two hours of waiting for him, I broke down.”

“What was in the text?” Aemond asks, reaching for your hand, “You don’t have to tell—“

“He said he used me, that was it. Just sex and pleasure for over a year…that was all I meant to him,” you tear up a little, squeezing his hand as the two of you look at each other, “I may not understand your feelings completely because your situation is different, but I get it, I know how you feel to some extent.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that…you deserve someone better than Jason Lannister.”

“You too! You deserve someone much much better than Alys Rivers,” you run your thumb over his knuckles, “when you asked me what I would gain from this friendship… happiness, Aemond. You might not be my best friend but, you’ll always have a friend in me, and I like that we have shared interests, and your little jokes and banters with Aegon make me laugh. I like that, and I’m so sorry if you felt I was pitying you.”

“Don’t be sorry, I should be the one apologizing,” he smiles when you rest your head on his shoulder, juts how he did on his wedding day with you, “I like that too.”

#aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #house of the dragon #prince aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x reader #aemond fluff #modern aemond #modern aemond targaryen #🍊dreams

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roosterbox · 1 year ago

Text

Had this random thinky thought the other day.

Pre-S4 Steddie are dating. Have been for a decent amount of time. They haven’t told everyone, but a few people know (Robin, Dustin). The thing, though, is that Wayne doesn’t know. Oh, he knows that Eddie has a boyfriend. He’s seen Eddie’s eyes light up like stars when he starts talking about this boy. About how beautiful he is. About how strong he is. And, most often, about how kind he is. After the buildup he’s been given, Wayne is pretty positive there’s no way for this mystery boy to live up to Eddie’s description. Especially with how loveblind his nephew is. But if the way Eddie lights up at the mere thought of him is any indication, he must be something special.

“Invite him over for dinner sometime, son. I’m dyin’ to meet this guy.”

Eddie agrees. And plans are made. But for whatever reason, said plans fall through. And keep falling through.

But then.

The events of S4 happen.

Steve manages to save Eddie, like he should have done in canon (but I digress). They end up in the hospital, and someone gets in touch with Wayne, who shows up almost immediately. And who does he see at his unconscious (severely injured) nephew’s bedside but Steve fucking Harrington.

Now I’m not saying that Wayne assumes the absolute worst upon seeing ‘King Steve’ Harrington in that room (the worst being that Steve has something to do with Eddie’s condition), but he does make his assumptions based on what he knows and remembers about Steve’s parents (especially his dad). Said assumptions are… not great.

He basically kicks Steve out. And Steve just… goes. Robin tries to protest on his behalf, but Steve tells her it’s okay. “Eddie needs him now,” he says.

Eddie doesn’t wake up for several days. Any time Wayne isn’t with him, Steve sneaks in. And gets kicked out again when Wayne comes back. Wayne, for his part, is getting more and more exasperated with his dedication.

But then Eddie wakes up, finally. Wayne and Dustin are there when he does. The latter leaves to give Eddie and Wayne their privacy for a tearful reunion, but he also calls Steve. A little while later, Steve shows up. He and Wayne lock eyes, and Wayne bristles a bit. He’s straightening up, preparing to kick him out yet again, before Eddie turns. And his entire face lights up in a brilliant smile. His eyes sparkle like twin stars.

“Stevie!” He says, imbuing the name with more emotion than Wayne ever expected.

Steve almost trips over his own feet to get to Eddie’s bedside, where he takes Eddie’s hand in his, twining their fingers together. He looks like he might cry.

And Wayne suddenly understands everything.

He lets them talk for a moment. They’ve seemingly forgotten he’s even there. There are soft loving affirmations, sweet names, and maybe even a kiss or two, before he clears his throat. The boys spring apart (Steve springs, at least), but don’t let go of each other’s hands.

“I really wish we could have gotten to meet each other over dinner instead, boys,” he says, gruff as always.

Steve looks nervous, but Eddie’s just embarrassed.

“Uhm,” Steve starts.

Wayne gently cuts him off. “I think you and I might have gotten off on the wrong foot.” And that wrong foot is entirely on me, he thinks.

Eddie looks between the two of them, confused.

“That’s okay,” Steve is quick to say. “You were just-“

Wayne cuts him off again, moving to the other side of the bed, hand outstretched.

“Wayne Munson.”

Steve hesitates, exchanging a glance with Eddie (who’s still terribly confused), before taking Wayne’s hand with his free one, shaking it.

“Steve Harrington,” he says as if Wayne didn’t recognize him on sight a few days prior.

“It’s nice to meet you Steve.” Wayne smiles. “Nice to finally see for myself the kid who makes Eddie smile like that.”

There are further discussions to be had. Eddie is angry (and a little heartbroken) to discover what’s been going on while he slept (“YOU KICKED HIM OUT HOW MANY TIMES???”), but in the end, it all works out. Eddie’s name is cleared. He (and everyone else!) makes a full and complete recovery (plus a few gnarly scars). And Wayne finally, finally, gets to sit down to dinner with his nephew, and his nephew’s boyfriend.

#stranger things #steddie #wayne munson #wayne munson my beloved #Wayne is a saint #but he’s also a bit protective #Steve doesn’t hold it against him #he knows better than anyone the person he used to be #also pre s4 Steddie my beloved

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chaoticbardlady99 · 1 month ago

Note

Can I request a fic where Astarion reacts to GN!Reader who always helps him but refuses to accept his propositions please?

CW: Dead Dove- for the people who can’t think for themselves and make a decision, no I am not adding specifics to my tags and I don’t have to. You know what game you are playing and you know Astarion’s back story. Put on your big kid pants and get over yourself- if the worst thing that happened to you today was that a fanfiction had a vague CW (which is also not a requirement for anything, it’s common courtesy. You don’t see CW on every book with dark themes, do you?) then you have a pretty damn good life. I’m not paid to write these fanfictions- if you want me to change how I tag things, then start sending me money or 🖕🏻 your bitching isn’t welcome here

I hope you enjoy!

Astarion doesn’t know much about freedom and normal sexual relationships. In fact, he doesn’t know shit about normal relationships period. His entire world is people taking advantage of his body and his lack of freedom- hands scraping at his skin and taking from him.

You, on the other hand, have thwarted every attempt he has made to please you sexually.

You roll your eyes at his pick up lines and his nicknames, you flirt back, but you never take it further when he asks. He asked you to spend time with him in his tent the night before- his plans to seduce you had been destroyed when you brought Lanceboard, he tried to get you to put it away, you suggested he is afraid to lose, and he had to prove that he is definitely not afraid to play Lanceboard with anyone! Especially you- who he was certain he could beat. It ended up being five draws and you won at the end, but it was the most fun he has had in a long time.

It’s been three weeks of traveling and his plan to wrap you around his pinkie finger has gone abysmally. Yet- you keep helping him.

You aided him in killing the Gur, give him blood as he needs it and make sure everyone knows you support and trust him. The rest of them have the right idea not to, but it warms something deep within him to know you genuinely do trust him. It shouldn’t- you are a means to an end.

And yet- here he is, sitting next to you at the campfire and just enjoying your company as you tell him about one of your many adventures before you were swiped up.

You, the busy body of the group, are exceptionally well traveled and you have been telling Astarion about all the places he needs to see- Evereska, Neverwinter, Althkalta, Waterdeep, Candlekeep- the list goes on and on.

Astarion swears he could listen to you talk forever and then some, but it also makes him feel poorly about himself.

He has absolutely nothing to offer outside of sex and yet, here you are, offering to take him all around Toril at the end of this journey.

“Why?”

“Why what?” You look stunned by his sudden disruption, “why do the people of Daggerford like Cheddar over Mozerrella? I’m honestly not-“

“No- why do you want me to stick around?” His voice comes out more harshly than he intended, “you refuse every proposition I have given you- I haven’t even begun to show off my usefulness and-“

“Usefulness?”

His eyes snap to yours and you look sad- heartbroken even. Astarion doesn’t need your pity! He doesn’t need more from you when he has already taken so much.

“Well of course,” he scoffs, “you provide me with food- literally- and you talk to me all the time and you spend time with me and ask me what I like and about me-

“And you always help me,” he says uneasily, “and you never ask for anything in return.”

The silence feels defeaning.

“I really like you, Astarion,” you say softly, “and I know the importance of finding one’s self and Cazador stole that from you. I also know you think the only positive thing about you is sex and that’s why I refuse to have it with you.

“If- if we have sex,” you look away, embarrassed and red in the face, “I want it to be because we both genuinely want to and we want to enjoy each other. You don’t owe me anything for my kindness, Astarion, I told you we would get this figured out together that day on the beach and I meant it.

“And if you never return my feelings,” you say quickly, “I entirely understand and that is okay too- I would still love to show you the entire world if you want to continue traveling with me after all of this,” you wave your hands wildly, “has been taken care of because you’re my friend- I hope you may consider me yours one day too.”

Your smile is so beautiful and sweet. He could fall into you forever and then some.

It takes him and you by surprise when he leans forward and leaves a hesitant peck against your lips.

“I- I would really like to travel with you,” he whispers, “a-and consider your feelings and friendship returned.”

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #bg3 #astarion romance #bg3 spoilers #astarion x you #astarion x gn! tav #astarion x gn!tav #astarion x gn reader

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epicbuddieficrecs · 27 days ago

Text

Weekly Recap | November 18th-24th 2024

How we doing after the fall finale fam? 100 days until 8B !!

Complete

please don't go by 42hrb/ @exhuastedpigeon (S8E8: Wannabes Coda | <1K | General): "Don't go." The words are trapped in a cage at the back of Buck's throat. Every time he's opened his mouth in the last week he's had to speak around them. He feels like a tiger pacing his enclosure, like he's going to snap at the bars if anyone gets too close.

Hold me like you'll never let me go by I_still_dont_understand_13/ @dangerpronebuddie (Post-S8E8: Wannabes | 1,4K | Teen): "Oh! You didn't bring any baking?" Maddie asks as she opens the door for Buck to enter. "I... haven't felt like baking much," Buck says as he trudges in, gravitating to the kitchen. "Since you got over your ex boyfriend?" Maddie asks, a hopeful note in her voice. "Since Eddie decided to move to Texas," Buck blurts out.

want but not have by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Post-S8E8: Wannabes Coda | 1,5K | General): “Buck.” Eddie greets in surprise when he pulls the door open. The other man is standing there, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders drawn up to his ears, eyes rimmed red, and an absolutely heartbroken expression on his face. “I need…I have…” Buck inhales shakily, “Can we talk?”

of bookmarks and bravery by brewrosemilk/ @gayhoediaz (S8E8: Wannabes, Getting Together | 1,6K | Mature): The moment Buck snatches the tablet, he regrets the decision. It’s an invasion of privacy—but they don’t keep secrets from each other, he knows that flipping the tablet and seeing a regular tab of pornhub open won’t actually embarrass Eddie, or make him upset. The second he takes a look at the screen, however, his blood runs cold. Not necessarily because of what’s on there—but because this is suddenly a vastly different genre of invasion of privacy. The video is paused, two men on the screen, drenched in sweat, one of them with their legs locked around the other’s waist, a large, happy grin on his face as the man between his thighs seems to be in the middle of an especially deep thrust. Jock Rails Latino Hunk (RAW) (REAL COUPLE)

wherever you are, that's where i'll be by bellabrady/ (S8E8: Wannabes Coda | 2K | Not Rated): “Buck,” he says, huffing a small laugh. “You know I can’t afford that.” He expects Buck to tease him in response, or maybe to roll his eyes. He doesn’t expect the serious, almost nervous expression on his face as he looks at Eddie. Before Eddie can ask about it, Buck speaks. “Maybe the two of us could.”

It's Not What It Looks Like by eightpackdiaz (S8E8: Wannabes | 2K | Teen): Buck catches Eddie reading Hotshots fanfiction on his tablet

i love you never felt like any blessing by bucksbicycle (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Getting Together | 2K | Mature): “No, Buck. I can’t leave you like this and I only have–” “I don’t want you to go.” It burst from him like a flashover. It’s far too loud for a small grocery store. They both flicker over to the screech of cart wheels making a quick-change, whoever was steering deciding that they can come back later. “I want you to stay,” is what he whispers, waiting for Eddie to say something. Anything. or: grocery store divorce 2.0 (with resolution)

What would you prefer I call you? by Kwills91/ @kwills91 (Established Buddie | 2K | General): Buck and Eddie have been dating for a month and when Buck discovers what his contact name is in Eddie's phone, he kind of loses it. What kind of boyfriend would have him as 'Buck Work'?

Not Coming Back by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Getting Together | 3K | General): “But seriously, when are you coming back? It’s been weeks…” Eddie feels the guilt inside of his chest tighten. This is it. This is the moment he needs to tell Buck. He’s put it off long enough. His eyes flicker around the kitchen of the house he’s rented. The one that Buck has no idea he’s rented. “About that…” Eddie starts.

'cause baby you make it all fade away by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together | 3K | Teen): Buck's having a no good very bad day and Eddie makes it better. No hoodies were harmed in the making of this fic.

🔥 worship like a dog (at the shrine of your life) by withmeornotatall/ @chronicowboy (Post-S8E8: Wannabes | 6K | Teen): "Y-you're thinking about moving?" Buck asks, words turning to ash in his mouth. "Starting to think about it anyway," Eddie says, braced like he's waiting for Buck to snap his tablet in half. But Buck is a good dog, really. Or, he tries to be. Tries so hard. So, he doesn't do anything he wants to. Doesn't throw up on the living room carpet. Doesn't piss in every corner of the house. Doesn't scratch his presence into all the furniture - it's there already, he thinks, I'm there already, aren't I? (OR: eddie's house is home, buck finds worship there)

i would stay forever (if you say, don't go) by justhockey (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Chris Comes Back, Getting Together | 6K | Teen): Eddie’s house has felt far too quiet in the months since Christopher left, without the sound of video games, or the clack of crutches, or the quiet rumble of Christopher’s voice as he talks to himself while doing his homework. But, as the door clicks closed behind Buck, the whole place falls completely silent. It’s like the last part of its beating heart has left, and now nothing but an empty shell remains. A house is not a home if there is no love living there, and Eddie just sent the last of it packing.

I’m always free to run home by scarmaddiewrites (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Chris Comes Back | 6K | General): A fic written after the season 8 mid-season finale that answers some of the unanswered questions.

carve your name into my bedpost ('cause i don't want you like a best friend) by bibuckdiaz (Post-S7, PWP, Getting Together | 6K | Explicit): Somehow, by some miraculous series of events that Buck himself isn’t sure weren’t divine intervention, he finds himself with his back pressed into the Diaz household couch, with his best friend of six years straddling his lap and currently sucking a bruise into the space above his collarbone; a place that Buck has for years privately thought of as Eddie’s spot.

More Than Anything by scarmaddiewrites (Getting Together, Chris POV | 6K | Teen): Eddie honestly can’t believe he lied that easily to a priest. Well, yes he can because he’s been lying to himself since he was 8. Lying so much that he’s repressed a huge part of himself. “No offense, I’m straight.” He mumbles to himself in the mirror. “And the sky is pink.” Buck and Eddie get together and Christopher has some feelings about it.

🔥What A Mental Fire Alarm by I_still_dont_understand_13/ @dangerpronebuddie (Post-S8E5: Masks, Eddie Sexuality Crisis, Getting Together | 6K | Teen): “I have an idea,” Hen declares, drawing everyone's attention. “Why don't you make your own quiz?” Buck tilts his head like a confused puppy. “Yeah,” Chim says, drawing out the word. “Maybe your answer will come to you while you make it.” “You'll need a control though,” Hen says. “Someone straight.” Buck looks to Eddie. “Would you be my control?” Hen coughs and thumps her hand against her chest. Eddie raises an eyebrow at her. “You good, Hen?” “Fine,” she croaks. “Perfectly fine.” “Would you?” Buck asks, knocking their knees together. “Of course I would,” Eddie assures him. An excited grin slowly spreads across Buck's face. He hops to his feet and dashes for the stairs. “Where you going?” Eddie calls. “I need a clipboard!” Buck hollers back as he rushes down the stairs.

i’m not your homeland anymore by shortndiaz (Post-Lawsuit, Canon Divergent | 8K | Teen): post lawsuit, Bobby takes the option to transfer Buck to another station.

Bobby Versus Buddie by songbvrd/ @songbvrd (Bobby POV, S2 to S8 | 10K | Mature): Eddie huffed out a breath. “I’m having a crisis.” And Bobby, he wasn’t proud of it, but the word ‘finally’ was flashing in front of his eyes in giant, neon yellow letters, because surely, surely this meant that he’d figured it out. Finally, at long last, Eddie was having the crisis they’d all been waiting for since he’d started a thousand emergencies earlier. “I think I’m homophobic.” Bobby blinked at him. “I’m sorry?” OR - Five times Bobby tried to gently hold Buddie's hands and tell them they were in love, and one time they got the picture.

🔥 if the heavens ever did speak by songbvrd/ @songbvrd (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Eddie Sexuality Crisis, Getting Together | 19K | Mature): He lay in bed at night and he wished he didn’t, but he thought about Buck. Wondered who was touching Buck. He wondered if Buck felt satisfied at the end of it or if he just felt more alone. He wondered if Buck needed him and wasn’t saying so. He wondered what it must be like to have Buck that way. To hold him close, to hear the sounds he’d let slip when he was too distracted to be in his own head. He wondered how he’d look when he came undone, and if the person he was with could even begin to fathom how lucky they were. But no, Buck just went back to eating his cereal, like he hadn’t just confessed to something that made Eddie’s whole body burn with too many feelings to articulate. He was humming, happy as a pig in mud. And as weird as he’d been with Eddie, Eddie found himself asking: “Sorry, are you humming Losing My Religion?”

🔥 50 Cheeky Texts by songbvrd/ @songbvrd (Post-S7, Getting Together | 21K | Mature): Buck gets drunk-dared to send Eddie one cheeky text every day for 50 days. Eddie loses his mind. TW for the cringiest pickup lines in existence.

WIP

cancelling the apocalypse by literalmetaphor (Pacific Rim AU | 24/25 | 116K | Mature): Buck doesn’t take his hands off Eddie’s shoulders as he glances over to Athena and Nash, who are watching the display calibrate. “How’d we do?” “See for yourself,” Athena says. Bad, Eddie thinks. He half-expects it. He wants to brace Buck for it, for the disappointment – wants to explain that whatever has screwed his compatibility scores till now, this one is all on Eddie. “Oh, shit…” Buck whispers. Eddie lifts his head, finally lets himself look, and then takes an inhale so sharp he tastes blood. Oh, shit.

🔥 go and kill, go and die by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Zombie Apocalypse AU | 12/14 | 48K | Mature): The 118 are a group of survivors in a small California town in the wake of a zombie apocalypse. For months they've been isolated and safe. But the arrival of some new players, the search for some missing loved ones, will shake everything up and put their little team in jeopardy.

I guess your mama didn't know the gift she got when she got you by disasterbuck/ @disasterbuck (Post-S7, Fake Relationship | 6/? | 12K | Teen): "He has someone else he can go to," Eddie said automatically, Buck's smiling face flashing into his mind. "Your friend Buck doesn't count," she said dismissively, and Eddie felt his hackles rising defensively. "I'm talking about a partner, Eddie. Someone who will commit to being with you and Christopher for the rest of your lives." "Buck is committed," Eddie said before he could think about what he was saying. "He's not going anywhere." There was a pause on the other end of the line. "When you say committed…" she asked hesitantly, voice trailing off. - Tired of his mom's nagging, Eddie tells a lie that spirals wildly out of control.

Re-Read

🔥 Your Kiss Might Kill Me (So Won't You Kill Me) by morganofthefairies (PWP, BDSM | 9K | Explicit): Buck hadn’t been a virgin by the time he’d hit Peru – not even close. He still considered Peru a critical point in his sexual history, though, because Peru had brought him Fiona, and he was pretty sure he could credit her with like 80% of his sexual knowledge. None of that was the point, though. The point was that, six years later, when Eddie called for the jaws to get to a woman pinned in her car while responding to an 8-car pileup, and absentmindedly called him a good boy as Buck handed them over, he had a totally normal reaction to it.

#buddie #epic buddie fic rec #buddie fanfiction #buddie fic rec #buddie fanfic #buddie fic

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lqveharrington · 16 days ago

Text

The Black Dog | C.S.

summary: Coriolanus left you alone after he realized he had a better life in the Capitol. He didn’t know your ghost would come back to haunt him.

pairing: President!Coriolanus Snow x ex!reader

includes: angst, abandonment, pregnancy, narcissism, a singular use of Y/N, manipulation

a/n: i love and hate coriolanus snow.

When you won the Tenth Annual Hunger Games and your name was spread across all pages, you thought you were finally through with all the pain and torture the Capitol would put you through. You thought that you were able to be sent back to District Twelve with no repercussions. The thought of just being able to exist with the Covey and the music. But the Universe had a funny way of showing you that your actions were disgusting.

They sent you your mentor.

You didn’t expect to see him anymore, especially when they found out you both cheated. Yet his gorgeous blue’s still allured you when he caught your gaze down at the Hob. The familiarity in them made you smile and the supposed love you both shared were fanned once more.

While he was peacekeeping in District Twelve, he spent all his free time with you and the Covey, learning about all your little quirks and how you grew up here. He was so obsessed in love with you that he would trade positions with the other peacekeepers to stay with you for longer or steal you away from the Covey whenever he thought you were spending too much time with them. He was absolutely smitten.

Or so you thought. You never thought he would leave after everything you went through together.

“Why are you up so early?” You put your chin on Coriolanus’ shoulder and tilt your head ever so slightly to see his face, smiling when he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Just thinking.” He murmured and messed with his dog tags. “Do you think we’ll ever get out of here?”

You hum and sit up straight, looking at him with curiosity. “I do… Why? You already thinking about leaving this horrible place? Not to your liking?”

“The only thing I like about this place is you.” He moved his dog tags over his head and put it around you, smirking when you held them tightly in your hand. He moved closer and pressed a light kiss to your lips, only partially moving away to speak. “That’s for you now.”

“Don’t you have to head back soon?” You whisper back and glance down at his lips then back up to his eyes. “Won’t you be in trouble?”

Coriolanus pressed another feathery kiss to your lips before standing and rolling his shoulders back. “I won’t be.”

You watched him begin to leave before you quickly ran over to him and grabbed his hand, smiling brightly at him and earning a curious look back. “When you get back, I have a surprise for you! I think you’ll like it considering everything you’ve told me before.”

He raised his brows and shook his head, kissing your forehead. “Can’t wait to see it, darling.”

But he never did come back. He left for the Capitol that night and you were left heartbroken and pregnant.

Over the years, Coriolanus’ power grew. He was a politician everyone feared and soon the President everyone feared. The Hunger Games soon became more and more ruthless, the humanity taken away faster than ever.

Although he grew in power and wealth, he lacked the empathy and emotion. All he felt was the need to be the best and be better than ever before. By the 28th Annual Hunger Games, he felt no remorse from anyone in the Districts. He wanted to forget the girl’s face he fell in love with all those years ago.

“The female tribute for District Twelve is…”

As the crowd hushed to hear the news, Coriolanus scanned the crowd for a familiar face even if he didn’t want to. When the announcer finally pulled the ticket out of the glass ball, Coriolanus stood faster for the person than he had ever done in years.

“Rose Alarie!” The announcer smiled into the microphone as the eighteen year old girl made her way to the front.

When her image flashed across the screen, Coriolanus knew exactly who her mother was. Rose was a spitting image of you. From the eyes to the nose. The only difference was the hair color. Yes, it was your hair, but the entire front of her hair was platinum blonde.

“Get that girl in the Capitol now.” Coriolanus looked over to his council and paused the television, staring at the eyes that haunt him in his dreams. “And get me her family history.”

“Me? Here? But this isn’t where the tributes go. My counter part—“ She was struggling to understand why she was being sent to the President’s quarters. She looked around the expensive material she would have never seen until now, eyes and mind memorizing every way to escape if everything went to shit.

“The President has some questions for you. He’s… Intrigued with you.” His advisor spoke with distaste and opened the office door, guiding her to step inside before shutting the door tightly behind her.

Her shaking hands reached up to play with her father’s military tags as she saw the President himself stand only a few feet away from her. She felt for the name her mother scratched out, only leaving the identification number on it. Rose had memorized it long ago.

5263099.

She still wondered why Snow wanted to see her. She was probably the least interesting tribute out of all the others. There were some who seemed incredibly gifted, and Rose only knew the music her mother introduced to her. Maybe because her mother was once in the games, but that was years ago. The footage was erased and her name was long gone from everyone’s memory.

“Rose Alarie.” Coriolanus spoke, sending shivers down Rose’s back. He shifted around and glanced at her, messing with files in his hands. “Do you know why I called you here?”

She shook her head but caught herself, averting his icy gaze, although the shine from the window was glaring through. “Uh, no, sir.”

He raised his brows at her mannerisms and noticed her fidgeting, knowing all too well who she got that from. Coriolanus slowly approached Rose and only stopped when she took a small step back in defense. Now that he was closer, he could see more features that resembled her mother and her… Father.

“What are you playing with?”

Rose felt her face shift to shock before schooling it, handing him the military tags her father once wore. “They’re my father’s, sir. My mother gave it to me when I turned ten. She said my father gave it to her when he was still around.”

Coriolanus held the silver chain to his eyes, reading the familiar numbers that once haunted him eighteen years ago. “And your mother? Where is she?”

“Dead, sir.” She murmured as he clutched the tags in his hands tightly. Thinking that he was going to break it, she quickly spoke again. “She died a year ago… The tags are uhm,” Coriolanus’ azure eyes met her eyes, making her eyes widen in fear before she cleared her throat and finished her sentence. “My mother scratched them out so the name is gone. I never met my father.”

He hummed and tossed a manila envelope to her, watching confusion make its way onto her face. “I had the officials search everyone’s family history and it seems like your father isn’t in the data base at all.”

Silence took over the room as Rose flipped through the many faces and names of her relatives, stopping at her smiling mother. She swallowed a lump in her throat before shutting the folder, looking up at him.

“I don’t understand, sir.”

“You know,” Coriolanus moved to sit in his office chair and spun to look outside the garden full of beautiful roses that his grandma’am loved so much. “I knew your mother. Quite well actually.”

Rose stepped closer to him, “You did?”

He nodded and waved a hand in the hair, the sun catching his silver ring he wore on his left hand. “I mentored her in the Hunger Games. She was quite a talent and beauty.” Coriolanus clenched his fist around the metal tags before breathing. “She had the wits. It’s how she won her game. Sadly, we had to erase that from Panem’s history.”

She took another step closer and tilted her head to look at his expression, noticing the longing look in his eyes. She was still quite perplexed by everything. After all, Rose’s mother never mentioned her mentor being the President of Panem.

“Your mother was Y/N Alarie, yes?” He cleared his throat and looked at Rose with recognition. Coriolanus felt his heart pound when she nodded and messed with her clothing. “She was kind to the other tributes and myself… She was always very sweet.”

He paused and handed Rose the military tags back. He caught the small smile tugging on her lips at her mother’s praise as she slipped the dog tags back on. Immediately, her fidgeting habit was back, her thumb following the indents in the tag. But before Coriolanus could comment on it and finish his small speech about her mother, his advisor walked in to collect her.

“Sir, we’re here for the girl. Ten minutes is up.”

“Leave her be. She won’t be competing in the games anymore.” Coriolanus barely looked over to his advisor, not caring for him or anything he had to say. Really, he just wanted to spend time with Rose. And his surprise was coming up anyway.

“But—“

Coriolanus put a hand up and immediately shut him up, glaring at the man with annoyance. “Pick another tribute or find a deadbeat from the streets, I don’t care. But leave this one here.”

His advisor raised his brows in surprise and left, leaving the pair alone once more. The silence continued, leaving an uncomfortable tension in the air. The sun began to hide behind a cloud of white as Coriolanus huffed and spun his ring around his finger, jaw ticking in thought.

“What do you want from me?” She whispered after he left, eyes dropping to the information on his computer screen. She felt ice pierce her veins as she read the contents, meeting his eyes again. “You’re my father.”

“I won’t have my daughter be in the games like an animal.” Coriolanus stood from his chair and grabbed his coat, beckoning her to follow. He handed her an extra coat, sending Rose a small smile. “Your mother would have talked my ear off if you did.”

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konigsblog · 9 months ago

Note

Stepdad Graves is such a menace 😬

stepfather-graves purposely impregnating his stepdaughter...

cw: forced impregnation, recording, afab!f!reader, non-con/dub-con/rape, stepcest, age gap (reader's age is unspecified, but i'd say mid-20s + graves is aged mid-40s to early-50s.)

dead dove: do not eat. 18+ only - mdni. ☀️

stepfather-graves has always been too touchy with you. whenever you're home from a college party, his filthy hands are all over you. you look up to him for validation and support, and allow him to become increasingly perverted whilst he's drunk, a cigarette held between his pearly teeth, and the bulge in his boxers visible.

of course, he has to have his way with you. he'll encourage you to spread your legs for him, so he can get off — and he especially does this whilst your mother is away. biting at your sensitive clit while whispering that you're such a good girl for him. he plays the card that he's lonely, and in need of an orgasm. too bad, you fall for it a little too easily...

he absolutely hates whenever you talk about your boyfriend, and will shame you for being a ‘whore’, or that you're obsessed with that pathetic man. instead, philip is more focused on getting you pregnant, so that you know exactly who you belong to.

he won't even hesitate to send a video to your beloved boyfriend, a clip where his face isn't visible, yet your cunt is getting fucked mercilessly, fat balls smacking against your rear, and your moans ringing out in the background. he wants the best for you, and that happens to be breaking up your relationship, and making sure you know exactly who owns you.

of course, your boyfriend breaks up with you, and you're completely heartbroken. you avoid your stepfather like the plague, not even looking into his eyes of disgust and horror, completely ashamed of yourself.

although, this doesn't bother your stepfather. he knows that at some point, you'll notice the swelling of your stomach, and how sick you feel. you'll come crawling back to him, with a pregnancy test revealing positive, having no choice but to abandon college and take care of your baby... :(

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pitchsidestories · 8 months ago

Text

I loved you in secret II Niamh Charles x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1188

a/n: hi, this one contains hurt/comfort, it's all fictional as always and we hope you guys like it.

Loosing against Barcelona hurt a lot but what was even more painful to you was the heartbroken face of your girlfriend who was coming towards you, the rain pattered steadily on her slumped shoulders.

In the background you saw the Barca players celebrating their entry into the Champions League final.

Even though you knew that not a single word which existed in the human language could ease away the pain right now, you whispered her name: ”Niamh-“

The defender quickly stopped you from talking more by putting a finger to your lips before pressing her mouth on to yours, giving you a passionate kiss.

The move of the brunette caught you off guard because the relationship was supposed to be a secret and you could tell that your team has been watching the two of you.

For another moment Niamh leaned her forehead against yours before she apologized quietly: ”Sorry.”

“Sorry, for the kiss or the loss?”, you frowned at her.

“Both.”, she admitted in an honest tone.

You wanted to press on for her to keep speaking, but it was Erin who cleared her throat, so your girlfriend and you turned around to face her.

The Scottish midfielder nodded into your coach direction who didn’t look the least amused, even a little disgusted:” Sorry to interrupt you girls. I thought you should know that Emma saw you two.

Much to your surprise Niamh’s reply was: ”Good.”

“Good?! You must be joking, Niamhy.”, Sjoeke scolded the defender, she herself seemed to have appear out of nowhere.

“Do I look like I’m joking?”, Niamh asked the red-haired woman in a tone which didn’t leave a doubt about her being serious.

The German forward quietly moved away from her.

“Come on, let’s go inside, love.”, you told your girlfriend.

“Please.”, she answered, tears in her eyes because the pain of loosing 2:0 against the reigning champions of Europe was still too fresh for her not to get highly emotional about everything which was thrown at her.

In the dressing room a concerned Millie came up to both of you:” Niamh, y/n?”

“Yes?”, you lifted your chin, to look properly into your captain’s worried face.

Sounding much more annoyed Niamh mumbled through gritted teeth: ”What?” The sadness was still there but you could feel her getting angrier by each passing minute.

“You better get home quickly.”, Millie responded softly.

“Why?”, you raised an eyebrow at her.

“She’s pretty mad.”, Guro explained. Hearing the Norwegian say this, send a shiver down to your spine, you all knew all too well who your teammate meant with she, Emma who’s facial expression from earlier was engraved into your visual memory.

Your girlfriends voice brought you back from your thoughts. “About the kiss in the rain? Emma should be mad about the game instead, how we lost it in the second half!”

She tried to keep her voice steady but the anger seeped through the words.

Millie shook her head calmly: “We all lost that game tonight.”

You sighed, looking at the tall defender: “Yes, but Millie, she has no right to hate us just because Niamh and I love each other.”

A look of empathy crossed Millies face: “No, I absolutely agree. I know it‘s been bothering Niamh for a while now.”

“Yes, she‘s tired of the hate. Especially after Emmas statement on player-player-relationships.”, you continued.

Millie nodded in understanding. You were sure that everyone in the room knew that Niamhs anger came from an accumulation of disappointing games and questionable interviews of your coach.

“But we didn‘t lose because of this tonight.”, Millie reminded you.

Niamh let out a long sigh: “No, we didn‘t.”

“Niamh.” The older team captain tried to find the youngers eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Go home.”, Millies voice was soft, her eyes full of worry for the two of you. Still, you did not dare to refuse her order.

You started packing your bags silently, trying to leave the stadium as fast as possible.

“Bye, girls.”, Niamh said plainly, not looking at any. of your teammates.

Guro forced herself to smile: “Bye.”

“Goodbye.”, you said before following your girlfriend out.

Niamh was unusually quiet on your way home. As soon as the door closed behind you and you dropped your bags, she turned towards you.

“I‘m sorry, love.”

“You don‘t need to apologize, Niamh.”, you replied, carefully reaching out to take her hands into yours.

She shook her head, avoiding your eyes: “No, I didn‘t want to get you in trouble. I was just mad.”

Of course, she made the decision to kiss you in the heat of the moment, led by her emotions and it might have consequences for you too but you could not blame her.

“We all were. And rightfully so, I mean the first leg might have been the best game of the season…”

Your girlfriend let out a tired breath: “It‘s been a weird season.”

“You can really say that.”, you nodded in agreement.

Still in thought, Niamh continued: “I didn't say anything when she first called our relationship inappropriate… but it has been bothering me the whole time.”

“Me too to be honest. But I didn’t want it to affect your captaincy.”, you admitted.

“I should have said something.”

You carefully put your hand on her upper arm and tried to find her gaze: “And loose the armband? She'll leave at the end of the season and we're staying.”

“Now that Millie is back, she will get it anyway.”, your girlfriend sighed exasperated.

“Probably., you paused for a second before adding in a hopeful tone, but we can stop hiding now, right?”

“We should have stopped much earlier. We owe that to our teammates who taught us that it’s okay.”, she confessed quietly while placing her head on your lap.

“That’s true to Pernille and Magda..”, you began.

“Fran and Maren.”, Niamh mumbled while your fingers ran soothingly through her still slightly wet hair.

“Aswell as Jess and Ann-Katrin.”

“And there are young players looking up to us.”, the defender said earnestly.

“Right. I don’t want them to feel ashamed for whom they love.”, you whispered as you wished away the upcoming tears with your free hand.

“Come here.”, your girlfriend asked you to lay down beside her which you did.

With closed eyes Niamh kissed away your hot tears.

“I love you.”, you told her, smiling sadly.

“I love you too. On and off the pitch. No matter what anyone says.”, the defender responded seriously before pulling you into a close hug.

“Do you think you can fall asleep tonight?”, you asked her cautiously.

“I’ll try too.”, she answered honestly.

“Sleep well, Niamh.”, you wished her goodnight.

“You too.”

Both of you were drifting away into an exhausted sleep, this season has been tiring. In the morning you were feeling less sad because you could finally stop loving your favourite person in secret and live your truth.

Even though not everyone might like that fact, but you felt like a heavy weight has been lifted from your shoulders. You loved Niamh and it was okay if everyone knew about your love for each other.

#niamh charles #niamh charles x reader #niamh charles imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso oneshot #woso community #woso #chelsea wfc #lionesses #engwnt #millie bright #guro reiten #chelsea women #wlw post #Spotify #emma hayes

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powerfultenderness · 1 year ago

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neighbour!könig’s reaction when he sees a guy walk out of your apartment . need your thoughts on that

omg, the man is gutted! Absolutely heartbroken! Especially after you asked to sit on his couch like that! 😆 He gets jealous but if you aren't technically together, then he realizes that he doesn't have a right to be so jealous and is a little overwhelmed with sadness!

So, last night König deviated from my outline! How very rude of him. But despite a power outage this morning, he was all over this and provided some fluff of the hurt comfort variety!

Even before he joined the military, he was an early riser. The sun was just starting to rise when he stepped out of this flat and heard the door to your flat open. He turned, smile already lighting his eyes, when instead of seeing you, there was a man. He had a slender but muscular build; the sleeveless workout top he wore gave plenty of proof of the man’s definition. The man, taller than you, shorter than him, looked at him a little warily, good. The man gave him a subtle nod as if to greet him then went down the stairs ahead of him.

A sense of smugness, along with the sinking feeling in his stomach at the thought of you with another man, washed over him as he noticed how quickly that man moved, how quickly he tried to run. König’s long stride made it easy to keep up, though, and he was only a step behind as the guy exited the building. He watched as the man practically sprinted to… guest parking. That was it then, you had had an overnight guest, a man. And König found himself jealous.

He tried to ignore the bitter, pitiful, sensation that plagued him all day, but was not very successful. What was he supposed to think of when thoughts of you led to the sad reminder that you had chosen someone else? He certainly shouldn’t be thinking about using the man’s license plate number to find out more about him, where he worked, for instance.

Now on his way home for the evening, climbing up the stairs to his flat, beer and food in his hands, he was met with another painful sight. The man was back, leaving again apparently, and you leaned forward, pressed your lips to the left side of his face, then again to the right side.

“Alright, be careful!” You bid the man good night, “text me when you get home.”

König wanted to sigh, he pouted underneath his hood. The way you had the capacity to care for others so much was one of the things he liked about you, but right about now, he wished you only cared for him.

“Oh! Hi, König!” You caught him before he could enter his flat.

He looked at you and tried to smile, but even he could tell it didn’t quite meet his eyes. "Hello."

“I have something for you!”

“Me?” You nodded, “hold on a sec, let me grab it!”

He unlocked and left his door open while you disappeared for a second, just so he could put his groceries down. You came back, knocking on the open door, with a plastic food container and a smile adorning your face.

“Come,” he invited you in, his prior sorrow temporarily forgotten at your friendly disposition. Friends, yes, maybe friends was ok.

“Liliana wanted you to have some cake! She said after all that candy you bought, you must have a sweet tooth!”

He took the offered confection and set it down on the table, next to his beer. “It’s her birthday?”

“No. She had this big performance today. The whole family gathered at my sister’s place to congratulate her. The place was pretty crowded, with my parents there too, so my brother stayed with me last night.”

König blinked. “Your…brother?” Now that he thought about it, the man did bear a slight resemblance to you…

“Mmhm.” You nodded then tilted your head, “what’s up with you? Everything ok?” The man was your brother!

König let out a loud and boisterous laugh. “Everything is perfect! Please thank the little mouse for me!”

“Mouse?” You scoffed, “wait till you get to know her.” You’re pretty sure she loudly told you to take a slice of cake to your “nice neighbor man” to embarrass you in front of the family, little shit.

He laughed again, “I would like to!” Because that would mean you incorporating him into your life even more! “Will you eat with me?” He asked once his chuckling faded.

“Well, I’ve had my fill of cake, but I’d love to hang out.”

Oh, he’d love that too!

[More neighbor König]

#lieblinqs #könig x fem reader #könig x reader #konig x reader #blurb

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scoobysnakz · 1 year ago

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Might make a one-shot out of this bc ughhhhh why am I giggling over Miguel being all lovely dovey?

1940’s hubby Miguel who is absolutely heartbroken when you come home all sniffly and frowny. All memory of your previous interaction has gone completely out the window the moment you dump the shopping on the counter.

He comes up behind you, thick arms wrapped around your waist as he rests his chin on top of your head. “Mmm, what's upset my pretty little doll?” he questions, fingers tracing circles on your stomach.

1940’s hubby Miguel who stumbles back when you turn around and bury your head in his chest. He smoothes the creases of your dress while cradling you gently.

Your shaky sobs vibrate through his chest as your fingers curl up in the soft muscle of his back.

And it's only then that he realises what's got his precious girl so upset. A smile curls at the corners of his lips but he gets rid of it quickly. He holds your chin with his thumb and index finger so he can tilt your head back. "I asked you a question, didn't I?"

Playfully, you roll your eyes at him, a feeble attempt to hide from his intense gaze. "Doll."

1940’s hubby Miguel who listens intently as you pour your heart out about how mean Spiderman is. He scoffs and shakes his head with feigned disgust at how rude he was towards you. He rubs soothing circles on the nape of your neck and peppers soft kisses on your jugular because he knows how much his sweet girl loves them.

“How rude of him, tal idiota,” he consoles with a dramatic eye roll.

1940’s hubby Miguel who is over the moon at the pouty expression on your pretty face when you mention the way Spiderman described Miguel.

He's so proud of his wife for defending his honour especially with someone she idolises.

“Can’t believe I liked him,” you huff while crossing your arms across your chest, “he was so mean to you, Migs.”

1940’s hubby Miguel who calms your sobs and kisses away your tears of disappointment with a painfully hard cock.

You look so pretty with puffy lips and shiny eyes all while telling him about how much better he is then that big oaf Spiderman. It's a massive power trip for him, especially knowing what he does.

He wonders how you haven't clocked on yet, especially after a whole conversation with him under his alias. How did you not recognise the low rumble of his voice or the way he holds himself?

1940’s hubby Miguel who leads you to the living room so he can cuddle you on the sofa. He wants to hold you close as you continue your adorable little rant about how much better your big strong husband is compared to that pompous brute who calls himself a hero.

prev< >next

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #spider man 2099 #spiderman 2099 #miguel x reader #miguel x you #fluff #miguel fluff #miguel au

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just-some-user-hunny · 5 months ago

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I have this question

What if bastard! reader's brothers became knights or guards just so they could find reader and run away with her. Like they'll get inside the castle, find her, explain everything and then run.

Or like they work there to be finally close to their sister again.

How would everyone feel about it? Especially Luke, Jace, Baela and Rhaena

I've actually been pondering of what to do with bastard!readers brothers. I did have an idea that maybe once she manages to escape, she finally flies back home across the ocean on dragon-back and finds her home again. Her brothers are still alive, working as blacksmith apprentices or stable boys ever since their mother passed away not too long ago from illness :( it takes a moment for everything to click, it's been so long since they've seen one another.

But the idea of them becoming knights/guards is so fun honestly. They dedicate themselves to training till they become good enough to be sent somewhere important like kings landing, and set off to search for their sister. Once they reunite, it takes a moment for bastard! Reader to realise, but when she does she's in absolute tears and snuggles her baby brothers who she's missed so much 😔 I'd imagine that maybe their mother isn't around anymore, possible passing away from illness some years ago. As heartbroken as she was, she couldn't give up on her son's so she just kept on working till she dropped, the only comfort she's granted is knowing her boys will be able to look after themselves.

But yeah, if any of the readers 'siblings' would see, they would probably go frantic. Jace would stare in shock and jealousy, if Luke was to see, the precious boy would go as red as an apple in spite. I don't think Baela and rhaena would be as upset, but they would fear being abandoned by their sister.

The two boys would approach, Jace sternly yet unassumingly ask who they are, jaw grit taut, whilst Luke clasps at your sleeve and hugs you close to him. There'd probably be an all out glaring match between all of your brother's now. Bastard readers! True brothers would feel kinda appalled at the princes audacity, considering that you were literally kidnapped from them and that they're your true brothers. Jace would clasp his gloved hand in his yours, trying to keep you by his side as the two targaryen princes feel a little insecure for the first time in a good while. They are very attached to you, and aren't going to give you away like that so easily. You're their sister.

Also I know he's not mentioned here, but I think little Jeffrey would be very confused and not really understand what's happening. He'd cling to your skirt and look up at you with his rosy face and button nose, smiling and asking who your new friends are in his little voice.

This is such a good idea though, I'd love to hear anymore thoughts and scenarios from anyone!

#yandere jacaerys velaryon #yandere luke valeryon #yandere hotd #platonic yandere house of the dragon #yandere baela targaryen #yandere rhaena targaryen #bastard! princess reader #bastard!princess reader #bastard! reader #bastard!reader

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aemondvelaryon · 2 years ago

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love grows (where the mustache goes) — jake seresin x reader

summary: as the squad is giving jake as much shit as possible for the new offensive hair growing on his lip, you are frozen like a deer caught in headlights.

pairing: jake seresin x fem!reader

warnings: explicit language, realization of feelings, alcohol consumption to combat dirty thoughts.

word count: 2.2k

a/n: based on this lovely gifset by unicornships

If you were being completely honest with yourself, you always kind of had a thing about Hangman.

Look, you didn't hate him, per se, but he definitely stirred some feelings in you that were less than normal. He made you feel totally feral, if you will, unrestrained and vicious. The sort of anger that made you want to scratch your skin off, vibrating and seething, screaming at the top of your lungs.

It took barely a look, less than a glance, not even a word before you were fuming just by being in his presence. He had some sort of grip on you.

So, you tended to stay as far away from him as possible. Leaving when he arrived, staying home when his attendance was announced, and sticking close to people that either didn't like him or didn't know him. It was easier that way.

Easier than thinking about why he really made you so angry.

But the worst part was, the cherry on top, was that he just loved being around you. Loved seeing how worked up he could get you, making you squirm under his gaze, and making you turn bright red from his flirting.

He had to know. There was no way he didn't. The squad must have told him how much you didn't want to be near him which is why he made it his mission always to find you in every room.

He had to know how much he rattled you.

On this particular night, he had yet to make an appearance. But wherever Rooster was Hangman usually followed, and the tall, mustached, Hawaiian-shirted pilot had already made his way over to the piano tonight and the rest of Dagger had slowly trickled in.

You didn't know why you came out tonight especially since their shore leave had just ended and all of the pilots had started making their way back to base and the surrounding area which always included the Hard Deck.

But it was the only fun place around and Penny was so nice to you and going out in a dress on a Friday night and nursing a drink for a couple of hours just to be seen and known instead of rotting in your little apartment after work was worth the possibility you might see him.

Your eyes lock on the little crowd surrounding Rooster, as charismatic as ever, singing another 80s hit. You smile despite yourself.

God, how you wished Bradshaw was the one that made your brain go fuzzy. He was sure of himself, not arrogant, teasing, not antagonistic, handsome, not drop-dead gorgeous.

Sometimes you looked at Hangman and wondered why God would make him so fucking hot and then let him open his mouth.

It honestly wasn't fair.

Eventually, you hear his voice, and your back goes ramrod straight, awareness prickling at the back of your neck, and your hands instantly sweaty.

"Bradshaw, you started without me? I'm heartbroken. After I went through all this trouble to do this just for you? Absolutely devasted."

You don't look. Because if you look it will just cement how much you want to look, and don't want to stop looking.

A choked laugh sputters, as if they're surprised and then Phoenix's voice pierces through the crowd. "You didn't. Please tell me that's not real."

"No way! Someone go pull on it! Probably glued on." Fanboy shouts and you hear the sound of someone falling out of their chair.

"You got to be kidding me. What the fuck is that! Did something die on your face?" Javy yells in disbelief and disgust.

You want to look so bad. Just their reactions almost make you turn. Did he get a bad haircut or something? You're just close enough that you can hear every word but not enough that anyone's noticed you.

"Pay up, now, I called it! I can't believe you guys doubted me. I said he would do something like this." Reuben sounds like he's smiling triumphantly.

Bob's voice is quietly astounded, "He looks like 70s Porn Star Ken."

You sit up even straighter. Oh god.

He grew a mustache.

Rooster finally acknowledges him. "Man, Hangman, I knew you were obsessed with me, but this is another level."

You can't ever look over there now. Just the visual has your skin feeling too tight.

"You like it? Took me a whole month to grow this bad boy just 'cause I wanted to see the looks on all your faces, but I gotta say, now that I'm here, totally worth it." He's grinning, he has to be, shit-eating and ear-to-ear, you can feel it, can practically see his smile in your head. You've stared at it long enough.

"That's great. When are you shaving it?" Natasha sounds disgusted and it almost makes you laugh if you weren't so fucking frozen like a deer in headlights.

"I can't believe none of you are appreciating the effort I went through to do this. Unbelievable."

"You look like someone from the cast of Boogie Nights."

"Well that's a great movie, so thank you." He sounds closer now and the hand around your glass threatens to break it. "Y'know if I can't get you guys to recognize my dedication, I know someone who will."

Oh god, oh no.

"Hangman, don't--" But before another voice can dissuade him, he's already sidling up to you at the bar. You feel the heat of him before you hear his voice.

"Hi, sweetheart, did you miss me? I know I missed you." You grab your drink and finish it off quickly, eyes not looking over at him.

"What do you want, Hangman?" You hope to come off as annoyed, not rattled to the fucking core.

"Well, I know you love Rooster so much so I thought I'd do something to make me look a little bit more like him. Maybe get you to not run out of the room every time you see me, yeah?"

Goddammit, he can't know that you do that. Unless he pays attention to you as much as you do him.

"I don't love Rooster, okay, I just don't like you." You grit your teeth and call the other bartender on duty for another drink.

"Will you at least look at it, before making your judgment, babe? You're hurting my feelings." The faux hurt in his voice almost makes you turn.

"Don't call me that."

"What should I call you then, huh?"

Your drink gets refilled and emptied just as quickly. "Woah, slow down there. Don't need you passing out on me." You have to get the hell out of here, quickly.

Your name, for starters, maybe. "Nothing. I don't even want you to talk to me."

You turn and make your way off the bar stool and it rushes over you all too fast. An empty stomach and tequila do not a wise girl make.

You nearly fall off the seat and onto your ass but a warm hand finds its way around your waist and catches you just as quick. "Easy there." You shiver and turn in his grasp trying to get away but it just makes you meet his eyes.

Shit, shit, shit.

"You good?"

No, you are very much not good. He looks--fuck.

You don't see Hangman out of uniform often. You weren't a pilot or even in the military. Just a casual acquaintance that sometimes had a few chats with his squadron. So, you'd seen him in what he usually hangs out in, his tan jumpsuit, his swimsuit, you've even seen him in his dress whites before. But this Hangman just got back and hasn't even been to the base yet so this is Jake Seresin, Texas born and bred, raised on a farm, rides horses in his spare time, mama sweeter than apple pie, probably owns a fucking cowboy hat.

So, of course, he's got a plaid shirt on. Over that is a bomber jacket, like one you've seen Mav sporting before, only it looks like something you'd wear to go ranching in the winter not fly a plane. He's got jeans on, they’re all beaten up and used, and a leather belt, and he looks like he stepped out of some country romance Hallmark movie.

The mustache is the icing on the cake.

It's not that you had a thing for mustaches. You didn't because you had no feelings for Rooster whatsoever, but you didn't think they were unattractive or creepy like most of the population seemed to.

Did you have a big crush on Tom Selleck in Magnum P.I. when you were younger? Yes. But who didn't? And liking Bella's dad in Twilight didn't make it a pattern, okay! Everyone liked him.

"Uh." You finally gracefully spit out.

He smiles teasingly. "Didn't hit your head, did you?" He knows you didn't. He's playing with you. Riling you up as he always does. Because it's funny to him. Not because he likes you--wants you.

You sober up slightly and push at him. "No, get off."

Jake--God, no, when did he become Jake in your head--just smiles more but it seems softer. "I knew you'd fallen for me, but I didn't think you'd also do it literally."

You turn even redder if possible. "Shut up."

Christ, how was it you had reverted to playground comebacks at just the sight of him? Were you really so weak?

"You didn't answer my question." Was he still talking? You felt fuzzy.

"I need another drink." You can still feel his hand on your waist because despite pushing him away he hadn't let you go.

"Did I finally break you?" He laughs and shit, he knows.

"Why are you still talking to me?" You finally snap at him and his face falls a little, just slightly, that if you didn't have every inch of his face memorized you wouldn't have noticed it at all.

"Because I care what you think." It's a confession. It has to be. You don't know what else it could be.

"Why?" You squint at him. Dumbfounded is the only word that comes to mind.

"Why? What--you don't, you seriously don't know?" He still holding onto you, and his hand flexes, fingers slightly digging into your hip and you feel yourself inch towards him, always stuck in his orbit, gravity pulling you closer.

"Don't know what?" You lick your lips in anticipation and he glances, once, up, twice, down, and then looks away and swallows.

"Why the hell do you think I talk to you all the time? Come find you in a room? Grew this fucking thing on my face?" He laughs, bewildered, and shakes his head.

"Why?" You ask again, if he doesn't say it, you won't. Too goddamn scared that you're making it all up, reading too much into it. "I thought you just liked to tease me. Get a rise out of me. I thought you were making fun of me."

"C'mon, you know me, I do the same shit I do to you that I do to Rooster. That's just what I do when I like someone."

You punch him in the arm.

"Ow! What the hell was that for!" He whines and grabs his arm, taken aback and pretending as if it actually hurt him.

"Why didn't you just tell me that, you ass!" You screech a little, desperately, feeling way too many emotions at once. He tends to do that to you.

He scoffs. "Have you met me? Do you really think I'm emotionally mature enough to do that?"

"That whole time you were just, what, flirting with me?" You question incredulously.

He laughs, a little bashfully. "I mean, come on, I thought it was obvious. I mean it was to everyone else."

You pale a little. "The others know?"

"Yeah, 'course they do. They're the ones that pointed it out in the first place. I didn't even realize I was doing it at first either." He scratches his neck, almost nervously.

"So why the mustache?"

"I don't know. I was just trying to get you to pay attention to me. Thought this might help." And god help you, Jake blushes, actually reddens a bit.

"How'd you know?"

"Hm, know what?" He smirks at you.

You cough. "You know, that I'd--that I'd like it."

Jake grins. "I didn't but you just told me you did."

You hit him again, a slap on the shoulder, almost playful, and you can't believe it, you're flirting with him, you're really this close to him, doing this. "Fuck off."

He smiles again but this one is different. His eyes are incredibly soft and he's looking at you and--did he always look at you like this? Were you really this blind?

"I need you to answer another question for me." His hand on your hips snakes around you and you stumble into him, putting your hands on his chest to brace yourself, and, Christ, he smells good. “Do you think I could take you out sometime?”

"Um." You're throat suddenly feels incredibly dry and you're heart feels like it about to beat right out of your chest. "I mean, if you want to."

"Yeah, baby. I want to."

#jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #hangman fanfic #jake seresin fanfic #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick fanfic #my writing #idk what this is but i hope u enjoy it #just something a little sweet for the kids #love grows #1k

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phoward89 · 8 months ago

Text

Series Masterlist

Chapter 5:

Coriolanus is at the PK Base in the communications center, sitting in one of the video phone booths. He's holding the receiver to his ear and watching the staticy small screen; waiting for Tigris to answer. He has so much to tell her. In fact, he's over the moon to tell her all about the love of his life: you. He's absolutely positive that she'll be happy for him.

When the static breaks and then clears slightly to show his cousin, he smiles like a madman. “Tigris, it's so good to see you!” Coriolanus exclaims, so much excitement in his baritone.

Tigris' gentle blue eyes widened slightly at her cousin's chipper demeanor. He was usually sullen during their sporatic calls. “Oh, Coryo, you look so much happier since the last time we talked. Did something happen?” The blonde girl asked, curious to know why her cousin was suddenly in a better mood.

“Yes.” Coryo nodded. Beaming, he blurted out, “I got a girl, Y/N, and she's just a perfect sweet darling.” His baby blues were sparkling with pride as he added in, “We’re serious, have our own place and when I pass the Elite Officer's Examine we’ll be able to leave 8.”

“Oh…” Tigris trailed off, her face full of shock. She wasn't expecting her cousin to be so serious with somebody so soon. Especially after he seemed so heartbroken about never being able to see Lucy Gray ever again.

Was Tigris wrong in her assumption that Coryo loved the songbird? If so, then she truly hopes that he's found love with you. But she also knows that her cousin has the genetics that can easily make him become like his father: General Crassus Snow.

Hearing him say that he's taking an Elite Officer's Exam makes her skin crawl. Tigris knows how cold the officers are in the various branches of Panem's military; she doesn't want her sweet cousin to be turned into a cold, heartless, hateful man to be used as a tool for the country.

A country that kills tweens and teens for entertainment disguised as punishment. Gosh, everything about Panem makes Tigris sick. And to think that her cousin, her sweet little Coryo who's a good person, could be used in a way to support the country's propaganda and skewed outlook bothers her. Makes her blood freeze up in her veins.

“Isn’t it great news, Tigris?” The platinum blonde peacekeeper asked, fishing for praises.

“Yes, yes it is, Coryo.” Tigris replied, her smile a bit too tight, too forced, and her voice a bit flat.

Coryo's face fell at his cousin's overly fake reply. “I thought you'd be happy for me Tigris.”

“I am happy for you, Coryo. I am.” Tigris weakly assured her cousin.

“I've found somebody that makes me happy, who needs me; makes me feel powerful, and I'm one step closer to getting us back home, to the Capitol. But, you don't sound as happy about it as you claim to be.”

“Coryo…” Tigris sighed, trying to find the right words to tell him about the hardships that have fallen upon their family within the last few weeks.

“Is Grandma’am around?” Asked the platinum peacekeeper. “I'm sure that she'd be happy to hear about my accomplishments.”

“Coryo, Grandma'am’s in hospice.” Tigris revealed, her tone sad as her face twitched with sorrow.

“Hospice! What do you mean she's in hospice? She was fine a month ago, what the hell did you do to her, Tigris?!”

“Me? Oh, Coriolanus, do you hear yourself right now?” The blonde aspiring fashionista snipped. Shaking her head, Tigris started to explain, “Grandma’am just shut down and started to wither away after we lost the penthouse-”

Coriolanus icy eyes popped out of his head. “Y-you lost the penthouse?! When were you going to tell me this, Tigris? Huh?”

“The back taxes were just too much to pay, so the penthouse was put on the market. But, Pluribus is letting me stay in the apartment above his club.”

“Okay, but what does any of this have to do with Grandma'am being admitted to hospice care?”

“Coryo, having to declare bankruptcy and sell the penthouse; letting all of the Capitol know that the Snow's are poor just broke her dear old heart.”

“She's dying from a broken heart? Really?” Coriolanus asked in disbelief.

“Yes.” Tigris nods. “The doctor said that Grandma’am lost the will to live; that it'll only be a short matter of time before she goes. And she's already in a catatonic state.”

“Are you still working for Fabricia Whatnot?” Coryo asked, his baritone colder than it had been mere minutes ago.

“Yes, I'm still working for her.” His cousin confirms with a nod.

“Good, because I won't be sending half of my pay to you anymore. The Grandma’am will be dead soon, due to her own pride and self induced delusions, and my money, honestly, is better suited taking care of my girl here in 8.” Coriolanus told Tigris in a chilly tone. One so chilly that it'd cause hell to freeze over.

“Coryo-” Tigris began, confusion all over her makeup slathered face, only to be cut off by Coriolanus’ icily steady voice saying, “I'm all my girl’s got, Tigris. I have to take care of her.” Looking at his cousin like he didn't even know her anymore, he remarked, “Unlike you, Y/N doesn't lie to me about how bad things are. At least she's honest, but you've had to have known for months about the past due back taxes on the penthouse and you never said a damn word to me about it.”

“Coryo…I didn't want you to worry about us. I was taking care of everything.”

“Time’s about up, Tigris.” The platinum peacekeeper announced, feeling betrayed and lied to by his cousin, who he viewed as more of a sister then a cousin.

“Coriolanus, you sound just like your father right now.” Tigris pointed out, her heart breaking at hearing the frostiness in his baritone and seeing cold deadness in his eyes.

“Well, I am his son. Perhaps I'll follow in his footsteps; rise to military greatness.” Private Snow told his cousin before saying a curt goodbye and hanging up on her.

It's getting close to the time that Coryo usually comes home from work and you're in the small kitchenette making dinner. It's nothing too fancy, just a simple stew. But your platinum peacekeeper never complained about what you made. He always ate his supper with a smile plastered on his face. In fact, he'd usually get seconds; pester you into eating another share too (he always said it was in order to build up your strength so you'll heal faster).

You're stirring the pot, making sure that nothing sticks to the bottom, whenever a faint knock appears at your door. You almost don't hear it over the sound of the radio, that's how light the knock is. Not wanting the stew you worked so hard on this afternoon to burn, you turn off the stove before going to answer the door.

“Ashlie, what're you doing here?” You asked your brother’s former girlfriend as she stood in front of you.

“Some of the girls at the factory are worried about you; I said I'd stop by and check up on you after my shift.” Ashlie answered as you heard the sound of Coryo's boots clambering up the building’s staircase.

Nodding, you simply said, “I'm fine.”

“Are you, Y/N?” Ashlie pressed.

Nice of her to worry about you now, but where was she before?

“There's been rumors that you've taken up with that blonde peacekeeper. That he's been living with you.” Ashlie all but hissed in a shameful tone.

“It's not a rumor.” You told her while noticing Coryo's tall denim clad frame appear at the top of the stairs, right down the hall.

“Look, Y/N, I'm sorry about not being around as often as I should, but if you need help gettin’ away from that peacekeeper I'm sure that Declan can help smuggle you out of the district.”

Smuggle you out where? You don't have any money and you're all alone. How are you going to survive hiding out in another district? Districts you're sure are just as bad if not worse than 8. The poor, lower end districts are all clumped together and, frankly, they seem to get worse and worse as you start going between them.

At least with Coryo your rent's paid, you've got enough food to eat, and you're not cold anymore. He’s decent company, when he's not in a condescending mood, and he seems to be devoted to you despite not knowing you that long. With Coryo you're comfortable for the first time in a long time. For once since moving to 8 you're not tempted to do a swan dive off the bridge into the toxic river surrounding the district.

You'll take your chances with your peacekeeper.

Shaking your head, as Coriolanus trudged down the hall, you told Ashlie, “I'm fine here with Coryo. He takes good care of me, so you don't need to worry.”

“And what happens when he gets bored of you; tosses you aside for another girl?” Ashlie asked as your boyfriend got closer. “Y/N, sweetheart, don't be a fool and trust him. He's a Peacekeeper for Christ’s sakes.” Berates your once sister. “One bred straight from the Capitol as I understand too.” The brunette spat out in disgust, right as your platinum peacekeeper appeared behind the girl that's slandering him.

“Darling, is this ratty whore bothering you?” Coryo coldly asked, his icy eyes narrowed at the girl blocking his way into the apartment, as he came to a stop right by the door.

His frosty timbre startles Ashlie; has her jumping out of her skin. Coryo's tone of voice doesn't bother you one bit. Why should it? His coldness isn't aimed at you.

“She was just leaving.” You assure your boyfriend, only to give Ashlie a look that reads ‘you need to go, now'.

“Well the girls at the factory are worried about you; hopefully you'll be able to return to work soon.” Ashlie remarked instead of leaving, like she should’ve done.

“She won't be returning to work at the factory.” Coryo bluntly announced, pushing himself by Ashlie and literally shoving you inside of the apartment. He blocked your view with his tall, sinewy frame while standing right in the doorway.

The platinum blonde's head lifted up in superiority. His glacier blue eyes bore into the former Seam girl with disdain as he explained, “As Y/N’s man, I take care of her and pride myself in treating her the way a proper Capitol born man treats his girl.” Gripping the door so hard that the wood began to splinter and crack, he barked out, “You're not needed around here. She's got me, so leave or else I'll bring you to base and turn you in as a rebel.”

Ashlie's Seam grey eyes widened in fear and horror at hearing Coriolanus’ words. With the rumors that she's heard about you being kept under lock and key by the platinum blonde peacekeeper, who by now everyone knew was sent from the Capitol; was a second generation military man, Ashlie was starting to worry about you. And when the girls that worked with you on the looms in the PK uniform factory’s weaving room started to express their worries to Ashlie, well she decided to pay you a visit.

Offer you some much needed support. A lifeline out of the predicament you're in.

But the brunette wasn't expecting you to turn down her help, to insist on staying with your oppressor. She also didn't think she'd be threatened by said oppressor, the pretty boy peacekeeper from hell itself. Ashlie feared for both her own safety and yours.

Maybe she should've came around more often, then maybe you wouldn't have become such easy prey for a peacekeeper with a cold hateful glint in his eyes.

“And the next time you show up to my house I'll have you hanged off the bridge’s trestle.” Coriolanus darkly promised, his face a mask showing no feelings, before slamming the door shut in Ashlie's face.

Coryo was quiet as he shed his coat, hanging it up on the hook near the door. “I made stew. I'll go dip it up.” You told him while he began to unlace his boots.

“It smells good, darling.” Coriolanus complimented, slipping out of his black boots, as you grabbed some bowls from the cabinet.

“You say that about everything I make.” You teased, portioning out the stew into a pair of bowls as Coryo pulled off his denim fatigue shirt.

Walking over to the table and laying his denim overshirt on the back of his chair, the platinum blonde simply said, “Because it's true.”

The atmosphere in the room wasn't heavy per say, but it wasn't light either. You felt like something happened today, something to put him in a sort of mood. And not a good one either. You really didn't want to stoke his mood into a roaring fire of unliveable sassy attitude, so you didn't say a teasing word back to him.

No, you just carried the bowls of stew over to the small table as Coryo took his seat at it. You couldn't help, but slip on a smile at the sight of your giant of a boyfriend dwarfing the sorry excuse for a kitchen table you had. Hell, the table looked more like a small school desk as he sat at it.

Silently, Coryo followed your every move with his icy eyes. He watched as you set the food on the table before fetching the bottle of milk from the fridge. Coryo knows how luxurious fresh milk is, so he's proud that he can buy it for you. He himself went without it for so many years in the Capitol.

The Snow family always seemed to go without; to struggle within the safe borders of the Capitol. Something that he was supposed to change. Coriolanus was supposed to dig his family out of poverty, but instead his family's been torn apart.

All because Tigris lied to him about how bad things really were.

Fuck!

He would've found a way to get her the money for the back taxes, to avoid a foreclosure on the Snow ancestral home, if she would've only told him that she couldn't pay.

How could Tigris, his own cousin, do that to Grandma’am; to him? And most of all to you.

You!

Who he promised to whisk away to the Capitol once he was able to. Now where are the both of you going to go when he gets clearance as an Elite Officer to return home: to the Capitol? He sure as hell can't bring you to the above club shoebox apartment Pluribus gave Tigris.

And to think that his Grandma’am's dying from a broken heart because her home was taken from her. Her beloved rooftop rose garden that was her joy is now withered if not destroyed by the highest bidder. To think that the old lady's in hospice, due to no will to live, all because Tigris couldn't be honest about the back taxes.

Damnit, fucking bitch should've worked a few corners to come up with the money. Anything to pay the past due taxes; keep the Snow family penthouse in the Snow family.

Where it belongs.

The sound of the milk glasses lightly clinking against the warped wooden table tore Coriolanus out of his thoughts. Watching you sit down next to him, he grabbed his spoon and told you, “Darling, let's promise not to lie to each other. Shall we?”

Oh boy, something definitely happened to him today. You didn't know what, but his remark about lying to each other tipped you off that he was lied to and he's upset about it.

Picking up your own spoon, you tell him, “I promise I won't lie to you, Coryo.”

“And I won't lie to you, Y/N. Which is why I have to tell you something very unsettling.”

Something very unsettling? What the hell did he do, shoot somebody during target practice? Murder somebody for a spot on the Elite Officer's Examine roster? Hell, the suspense is killing you.

Not literally, just figuratively.

“Today I talked to my cousin, Tigris, on the phone in the base’s communications center and I learned that things are worse than I thought they were back home: in the Capitol.” He revealed in between eating his stew.

Having a bad feeling, you asked, “What's wrong, Coryo?”

“The Snow penthouse has been seized and put into foreclosure for unpaid back taxes.” Coryo spat out, his eyes full of anger, as he held his spoon so hard that it was about to bend between his fingers.

His family home foreclosed due to back taxes. Oh boy… You weren't expecting to hear that. You can only imagine how high priced the taxes are in the Capitol considering how pricey things are in the districts. Capitol City, Panem is full of rich elites or wannabe rich elites, so…Yea…The price tag on things in the Gem of Panem, the Capitol, is surely higher than in the rest of the country.

“Tigris told me that everything was fine, but she lied.” Shaking his head, he tossed his spoon in his bowl, causing a loud clang to ring out. “I've been sending home money, assuming that Tigris was using it wisely, but now I don't even know what she did with it.” Reaching for his milk glass, he dryly added, “She didn't pay the taxes, that much I know.”

Reaching forward and placing your hand on top of his, you gave him an empathetic look. You felt for him, for his family. “Coryo, I'm sorry she lied; made you think everything’s ok when it isn't.”

Your boyfriend threads your fingers together, holding your hand, as he sips on his milk. He can't help, but feel lucky to have you. You're being so supportive and understanding about his family's fall from grace.

About him losing the Snow ancestral home. The home that he was supposed to take you to.

Placing his glass down after drinking from it, Coryo shook his head while gritting out, “And now Grandma’am's in hospice, dying of a broken heart, because she was forced out of her home.”

Poor Coryo…

To lose his home, his grandma, and to be lied to by his cousin.

“Seems like we've got more in common than what meets the eye.” You told him, letting him know that you sympathized with his situation.

“It seems we do, darling.” Coryo nodded. Picking his spoon up and scooping a portion of stew out of his bowl, he repeated, “It seems we do.”

You're washing the dishes whenever you feel a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist. Coryo's right behind you, hanging on you, but you don't pay him any mind. You just keep on washing the bowl in your hand with the sponge- a sponge that has seen better days.

Your boyfriend nuzzles his nose into your temple, inhaling your scent. Kissing your cheek, he swears, “I promise, once I'm an officer and get into a wealthy position I'll buy back our home. We'll live in it once again.”

“Don't make promises that you can't keep, Coryo.” You advised him, rinsing out the bowl and setting it aside on the makeshift drying rack (which was a cookie cooling rack resting on a dishtowel).

“I intend to keep that promise, baby.” He told you in between peppering kisses up and down your neck.

“Coryo, stop that. I still have dishes to do.” You sighed, trying and failing to wiggle out of his hold while starting on the second dirty bowl.

“One day when I become President and make you my First Lady you won't ever have to lift a finger to wash a dish ever again.” Coryo smoothly murmured, kissing the sweet spot right below your ear.

“To make me your First Lady you'll have to marry me, Mister President.” You sarcastically pointed out, rinsing soap suds and bubbles out of the bowl.

You're placing the bowl onto the drying rack whenever Coryo spins you around. Tipping your chin up, making your eyes lock onto his baby blues, he seriously tells you, “Once I get my officer’s stripes I'm going to marry you.”

The weight of his words comes crashing down on your head like an anvil in an old cartoon. “You really want to marry me?” You asked, not quite believing the situation to be real.

You're just some district girl that he got into trouble and felt pity for. Yes, he takes care of you, but making you his wife's a whole other story. That's a lifetime commitment considering divorce was abolished in the early years of Panem's creation- which was after the end of both WW3 and the 2nd Civil War, which coincided.

“Yes, baby.” The platinum blonde nodded. A wide smile spread across his face as he cemented his fate with the words of, “I'm going to marry you and give you the life that we both deserve as Snows once I get my officer's commission.”

“You know, people in the districts have different ceremonies then Capitolites do for marriages.” You informed him; knowing that you're going down a path you can't turn off of as you do. “Couples in 12 do a toasting by breaking bread at the hearth over a fire they stoke.”

“Too bad we don't have a fireplace.” Coriolanus seriously pouted.

Oh wow, he's serious about this marriage thing. Lucky you.

“Yes, too bad.” You half heartedly agreed with him. Resting your hands on his chest, you decided to explain what you learned about weddings in District 8. “I've heard that here in 8 most weddings are typically held on Tuesdays and Thursdays in November and December.”

Your boyfriend’s brow rose with interest. “December you say?”

“Yes.” You confirm as he strokes your cheek with his thumb. “The bride sews her own dress, which is typically blue or purple, and makes a large amount of food for the guests who stay for dinner and then a late supper. While family and friends are gathered at the house, the couple’s joined hands are bound by a strip of cloth; then they recite words or poetry to complete the ritual.”

“And this ritual’s binding in the eyes of District 8?” Coriolanus asked, holding your gaze with his icy eyes. Eyes that were filled with both trepidation and hope.

“It's binding in all of the districts. I'm not sure about the Capitol tho.”

Bringing his forehead to rest against yours, he simply said, “Mary me on Thursday. I'll bring Sejanus home with me and we'll do the 8 ceremony.”

Believing it impossible to marry so soon, you react with, “But that's in 2 days, Coryo. I'll barely have enough time to make a dress. Plus I have to cook food.”

Bringing his other hand up to your face, so he was cradling it between his large calloused hands, the platinum blonde told you, “I'll bring home some material for your dress tomorrow and the only guest you need to cook for is Sejanus. You don't need to cook up our entire pantry.” His lips ghosted over yours. “Let me take care of you; marry me, baby.”

If you say yes to this sudden spur of the moment wedding you'll be giving up your freedom. In the districts’ eyes you'll become Mrs. Snow, wife of a Peacekeeper. One who's certain he'll become an Elite Officer. Is that what you want?

Hell…

You honestly don't even know what you want. But you do know that you refuse to go cold and hungry ever again because you're alone and can barely get by.

So, for survival purposes, you give Coryo a smile and tell him, “I’ll marry you.”

Without warning, Coryo kisses you. His lips hungrily pressed against yours, as if he was a man starved and his only fulfillment came from your mouth. You moved your lips against his, which only caused him to deepen the kiss by slipping his tongue into your mouth. Your fingers twisted and dug into his white T-shirt as your tongues intimately danced while your lips clashed, pushing and pulling for purchase.

You let out a little breathless sigh as Coryo broke the kiss, pulling back slightly so the two of you could catch your breath.

Coryo's icy blue eyes were nearly black with lust as he looked into the windows of your soul. His large hands still cup your face as he confessed, “I’d love nothing more than to bring you to our bed and fuck you right now, but since we're to be married in 2 days I'll wait til the wedding night.”

“Oh, so you're going to make an honest woman out of me first before you corrupt me?” You asked, your tone a bit light and teasing.

What difference was a couple of days? It wasn't like you're from a rich aristocratic family that needs to see the sheets in the morning for proof of innocence lost and consummation.of marriage. You're a district girl, nobody in the districts care about purity til marriage, etc.

Besides, even before you agreed to marry him you knew you'd be fucking Coriolanus. He's your boyfriend, it comes with the territory. The only question was when.

Now you have your answer: this Thursday night- your district style wedding night.

Leaning his forehead against yours, Coryo steadfastly declared, “You can't corrupt someone who's willing to drink from the silver cup, my darling.”

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @tian-monique @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

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therentyoupay · 4 months ago

Note

How would you write Elsa falling first? I absolutely adore your loser Jack pining after put together Elsa, but how would you reverse their roles?

i promise i promise i did not mean to write a one-shot for this. and i SWEAR it is ACTUALLY a one-shot. it is the OLD-SCHOOL definition of a one-shot, because i opened this ask and thought, aw, wouldn't it be cute if i just wrote a little tiny ficlet to illustrate an example of this scenario instead? and then out came 5,297 words. in one sitting. in ONE SHOT.

i would also like the record to show that i LOVED this challenge, i love trying out new scenarios or styles that subvert all the habits i've gotten myself into over the past decade or so!! thank you for this ask!! and, also, let the record show, that even as i wrote a full 5k+ of fic leading up to a "she falls first, he falls harder" scenario, i still couldn't quite hit the mark... in this case, i think it's open to interpretation as to whether she falls first, or they fall at the same time. 🤣 ENJOY. p.s. LOSER JACK?? LMAO WHAT IS THIS

“Watch your head—“

She ducked just in time, narrowly avoiding the churning of what appeared to be a factory conveyor belt gone awry. A tiny creature smaller than even a Norwegian Mountain Troll cried out in dismay as a cascade of nutcrackers fell into a sorting bin meant for what appeared to be that latest handheld gaming device—the Swap, or something.

Elsa grinned at the chaos surrounding her—little elves scolding one another, scurrying about—and wasn’t the slightest bit embarrassed to see the Pooka—Bunnymund—grinning in delight at her delight.

(I told you, his eyes seemed to say, as he gestured for her to continue ahead of him through the vast workshop chamber toward the office tucked away in the back. You wouldn’t regret it, if you came with me.)

Without giving him the satisfaction—yet—Elsa merely took in all the productivity around them, and let her gaze sparkle with the Wonder she knew was in them; dryly, she marveled, “It’s July.”

“Christmas doesn’t take holidays, mate,” Bunny winked. “Especially not here.”

Elsa stuck her courage to the sticking place as they approached the office—the door was slightly ajar. No matter what happens, Elsa inhaled and exhaled; you can always go back to Ahtohallan, to Antarctica.

You don’t have to stay here—with them.

Strengthened by this truth, Elsa squared her shoulders and softened her face into something curious and approachable as Bunny opened the door, not bothering to knock.

“OI.” Bunny stepped through the office, holding the door wide, which allowed Elsa to wait at the threshold—suspended between two worlds, two moments, two paths… perhaps two different lives.

“WHAT—Bunny, how many times I say, KNOCK, this program, it is DELICATE—“

“I got a delivery,” Bunny interrupted, and his whole body flinched at the look she gave him, “Er. I mean. I got someone here who you might wanna meet.”

And if Elsa had known then what she knew now, she would have realized in that moment (when North laid eyes on her that July evening in the middle of his work on the newest rollout of the popular role-playing video game—the Sums, or something) that, truly, the future was always in motion, her path already treaded, and—despite all her beliefs, her past, her heartbroken memories—her heart was already preparing to have two homes.

Elsa had visited plenty of warm—tropical, arid, sweltering—and chaotic, sprawling places in her travels, but none quite compared to the utter bustle of the Workshop.

Over the next three weeks of her stay, Elsa grew accustomed to the factory’s noises, to the bickering between the elves and their strange adoration for her, to the yeti’s curious questions about her years at the south pole. They asked relentless questions about the melting ice caps, the fierce predators, and the tiny human-made stations; she answered them as best she could, having wandered Antarctica for only half a decade before Bunnymund happened to find her at the tip of Cape Adare. When she tried to explain that she was much more familiar with the Arctic, they listened politely, but they were clearly much less interested in land so close to home. They also had the strangest custom of bringing her icicles when they returned from their perimeter patrols; she was growing quite a large collection of them in the guest room in the Main House.

The others—called Guardians, she learned—flitted in and out of this headquarters at seemingly all times of day.

Sandy was shocked and delighted to see her again; they’d run into each other just once during the late 1940s, and only when Elsa was passing through a city—Barcelona, if Memory served—to familiarize herself with the changing of the times as quickly as possible.

Sandy made no delay in giving her a much more insightful tour of the Workshop than North’s exuberant one had been, which had focused rather on not-so-subtle hints at how wonderful a life it was to be a Guardian, and such wonderful news it was to hear that Elsa was intrigued by Bunnymund’s offer to meet them, and so wonderful that Elsa had been spending all these years doing all that she could to explore the wonders of the world.

(North was lovely, and welcoming, and fierce—and so boisterous!

And not subtle at all.)

After a few days of visiting the Workshop, Elsa grew comfortable enough to truly relax as she roamed its halls, visited the various stages of production, and occasionally caught up with Bunny as he flitted in and out of the Shop (“Easter is on Holiday!” he’d said, with another wink). She dined with North and his team of merry workers, often with Bunny, who, she learned, was rather too fond of eggnog, and sometimes with Sandy as well.

After only a few hours into Sandy’s first visit, Elsa allowed herself to laugh with her whole chest at the ridiculous antics, the absurdity of it all, the bickering among Sandy, and North, and Bunny—and allowed herself to be endeared by the clear respect they held for one another, by the lightness in the air, the distinct sensation of family. That night, Elsa didn’t immediately retreat to her room after dinner, as she normally would have.

The Memories were not so painful, here.

And their stories!

They regaled her each night over (and after) dessert—about this horrid creature named Pitch Black, about the Moon, about the Battle of Burgess—they all sounded like fairytales to Elsa, even if she, herself, had practically been living in one for nearly two hundred odd years.

The others told her of two other coalition members who fought beside them—both of whom were exceptionally busy, and who would not be journeying to the North Pole again until it was time to celebrate the Equinox.

Elsa was curious about Toothiana—and anxious, about the Memories she protected—and especially curious about the Guardian named Jack…

Frost.

She did not shy away from asking more about him—Elsa had far too little time to worry about such silly fears like embarrassment; immortality was funny like that—and her curiosity grew with each tale she heard. The Guardians spoke of Jack with a mix of fondness and exasperation—his mischievous nature, his loyalty, how bloody annoying he is, I tell ya, that’s what I say.

Elsa could not help but laugh at Bunny’s pervasive frustration with his teammate; his respect for Jack was clear, even if his patience was not.

Still… she had been wandering the world for over 200 years, and in all that time, she had never encountered any others like her, and certainly not anyone especially like her.

The thought of meeting someone who might understand, who might have powers like hers, stirred something deep within her— something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

She caught Bunny staring at her in the midst of a reverie by the fire during an after-dinner coffee, so she crisply declared, “Don’t say it.”

“What’s that, Ice-pop? Sorry, couldn’t quite hear you over all of that Hope in your heart.”

Bunny, Elsa learned, was used to ducking snowballs.

Later that evening, as she stood by one of the desperately-tall windows in the corridor leading to her guest quarters—watching the snowflakes drift lazily from the sky—Elsa couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to actually meet him.

The thought of Jack—a potential ally? a friend? a teammate?—occupied her mind more and more as the days passed, and with each story the Guardians told, Elsa found herself hoping that this Jack Frost—a teacher? a guide? a confidant?—would be looking forward to meeting her, too.

Sometimes, late at night, she would lie awake and wonder what it would be like to have someone in her life who understood her powers as deeply as she did. She imagined his face, always in motion, always just out of reach, and felt a strange sense of—Hope? Elsa rolled her eyes at the ceiling. Anticipation? Perhaps.

Fear?

In these quiet moments, she found her spirit reaching out, as if she could almost call to him—but of course, he was completely out of reach, never having met her before, and likely, perhaps, not even knowing that she existed until only recently... But her heart would quicken at the idea of meeting this person like her, of seeing his eyes—what color?—filled with the same understanding, the same longing for connection that she felt.

What would he think of her? Would he see the strength she had built over centuries? Or would he only see the loneliness that still clung to her, despite all her efforts to cast it aside?

The questions swirled in her mind, mingling with a strange sense of exhilaration that made her feel both alive and vulnerable.

She could almost hear the laughter they might share, the way their powers could dance together in the air, creating something beautiful, something new.

And in those moments, she couldn’t help but smile, imagining a world where she wasn’t alone, where someone else could stand beside her in the snow, not as an adversary—

But as an equal.

“And did he wield ice magic as a human, as well?” Elsa pressed over after-dinner coffee in the drawing room, leaning forward in her chair near the fireplace. North’s giant hands were absurdly large compared to his delicate teacup. “Before he became a Guardian?”

“As a matter of fact—no. The power came later, AFTER Turning.”

Elsa considered his words carefully. Something about his expression seemed rather cagey; centuries of reading strangers’ faces had only honed her political prowess, which had been born out of survival as much as any sense of duty.

“North, tell me: why do you want me to join the Guardians?”

“I—ah! ELSA—

“Because ya’d be mighty good at it!” Bunny blurted, calling over from his newspaper reading on the other side of the drawing room, to North’s indignant sputtering, “if you wisened up and stopped hiding all Hope and Wonder!” And then, as an afterthought, “And it’ll keep Jack humble, I reckon!”

“ASTER!” North scolded fiercely, but he set the tiniest teacup down with the tiniest clink and placed the saucer on the coffee table with such deliberate care, even in his fit of anger, that Elsa couldn’t hold back a small, genuine smile.

“Dont’cha worry, Ice-Pop,” Bunny told her later, as they stood in the wide, cold corridor leading into the main entry chamber of the Workshop, where Bunny preferred to open his portals. Elsa quirked a brow at him, and he chuckled. “We’re not here to actually convince ya. We just want you to see that there’s another option. This Choice… well. Guardians gotta make it for themselves.”

She still had too many questions. How is it that I had never crossed paths with any of you but Sandy, before?

How is it that I have managed to avoid Pitch for all these years?

Why me? What can I really offer—when you already have someone who can already do what I do?

“You still have time before you have to decide. And you need to meet the rest, anyway. Just think about it, is all,” he said, all his wisdom seeping into the very air around them. He cracked open a portal and, a moment later, he was gone.

“Oh!” said an utterly beautiful creature, her wings fluttering with so much excitement and delight that she was practically vibrating. “You must be Elsa!”

Elsa and Toothiana took to one another with surprising ease; time had steadied Elsa’s heart, had taught her the patience and endurance and the strength of a glacier; time had energized Toothiana, who took charge of the world with her vast army and a wide smile. But it had been so long since Elsa had even felt anything remotely similar to the feel of holding onto her sister—and Toothiana understood, completely.

Toothiana shared stories of her own—a whirlwind of adventures collecting memories and moments, each one a treasure she held dear.

(Toothiana's eyes softened as she took Elsa's hands in her own, her understanding gentle yet firm. "I know what it’s like to carry the weight of Memories, Elsa," Toothiana whispered, her voice a comforting balm. "But here, with us, you don’t have to carry them alone. We’re all in this together, and we’ll help you find your way.”)

And Elsa found herself starting to believe her.

To Believe in them.

When the Guardians gathered around the fire—taking time, they said, to ensure that past mistakes were never repeated, that they carved out time for themselves the way they never used to—the conversation inevitably turned to their adventures, to answering Elsa's questions. Somehow, Jack always seemed to be at the center of their tales.

She was rather alarmed to realize the extent to which she had begun to wait for these moments, eager to hear more about Jack, piecing together an image of him in her mind that was as elusive as snowflakes on the wind. Why on earth does not a single Guardian commission a portrait, for goodness’ sake? But Elsa dared not ask for a Memory; apparently, there were still some things left worth being too embarrassed to ask for, after all.

So she contented herself with the way Sandy would add details to the story that the others had forgotten, conjuring up glowing scenes of Jack’s playful antics in vague, golden sand—flurries of snowflakes, intricate frost patterns on windows, and the gleeful laughter of children echoing through the air.

She would find all their efforts rather suspicious… if they weren’t all being so utterly obvious about their Hopes.

Thus, one evening, as they were all gathered around the fire, Elsa couldn’t help but ask, “How did Jack become a Guardian?”

Bunny’s keen eye sharpened upon her cheek; she withstood the scrutiny, allowing him no further entry to her mind, as he added, “Jack was chosen by the Moon, like the rest of us.”

“But Jack…” Toothiana’s voice was soft and somber and unusually serious; the atmosphere in the room shifted, its axis tilting ever so slightly. “He had a harder time accepting it. At first! That is.”

“Took him a while to figure out, is all,” Bunny held his boomerang up to the light, checking the polish. “He came around, eventually.”

“Why?” Elsa asked, genuinely curious.

Sandy floated closer, his golden sand forming an image of a young boy standing alone in the snow, his face a mixture of confusion and sorrow. The image flickered, and the boy’s expression shifted to one of determination and hope.

“Not easy for Jack, his Turning was,” North said, his voice softening. “Not easy for any of us… But Jack had no Memories of his past, no knowledge why he was Chosen. It wasn’t until centuries after his Turning that he found his center.”

“His center?” Elsa echoed, intrigued.

“FUN!” North boomed, smiling, and sending teacups clattering everywhere. Elsa clutched her saucer with both hands. “But not just ANY fun—bringing joy and wonder to children, making them BELIEVE in magic and in themselves. THAT is Jack’s true power!”

Elsa considered this as Bunny complained about dropping his boomerang polish and spilling it all over the carpet. Toothiana was laughing at him and offering to help in equal turns, as Elsa’s mind turned over the implications of centers—and Jack’s in particular. She had spent so long searching for her own purpose, her own… center? Do I have one? As well? Is that why Bunny had found her, out alone at the edge of the iceberg, at the exact moment when she had let it all go, had accepted that she may never find her purpose, that perhaps she did not have one—was that the moment that they had been waiting for?

And now, here in this team, Elsa might soon meet someone who had also once struggled with the same questions, who had found his answers in the most unexpected ways… It makes me, dare I say it… Wonder...

She glanced at the Guardians, each of them so sure of their place, their role in the world, with all their quirks and their trust and their happiness. They had found their centers, their reasons for being. And Jack—this mysterious figure who was off wreaking havoc in some apparently historic winter season in New England—had somehow found the same. She wanted to know more about this spirit who had lived in solitude for so long, who had found a family among these remarkable beings, and who wielded the same icy power she did, yet in a way so different from her own—or, at least, so they thought. Nobody could quite seem to explain to her the exact mechanics of it all.

The more she heard about him, the more she felt a growing need to meet him. She caught herself imagining what their first meeting might be like—whether he would be as mischievous as they said, or if they would take a liking to one another right away, bonded by their similar powers, their similar stories… Perhaps he might help her make sense of… all this? Maybe there was something in him that could help her understand herself better. Maybe he could be… another friend? An ally. A partner. Elsa did not care about the name; what mattered was only that they could learn from each other.

But still. She could not quite deny that her excitement at the chance of meeting him was, perhaps, a bit more complicated than all that.

“I still don't understand. You already have someone whose powers are like mine,” Elsa pointed out reasonably, just when the others had started to turn the conversation to simpler matters. “How could I possibly contribute?”

Bunny barked with laughter from the other side of the circle, over the recipe book he was now reading, preparing for their grand dinner to celebrate the Autumnal Equinox. Sandy giggled in golden, sparkling shimmers. North’s laughter was as reassuring as it was alarming.

“ELSIE, my dear,” North boomed as he strode closer to the wing-backed chairs that Toothiana and Elsa were hoarding by the fire, just under the wide window of the central tower, which overlooked the northern tundra. “It is not about powers alone! It is CENTERS.”

“And besides!” Bunny called out over his recipe book, adjusting his reading glasses over the bridge of his twitching nose. She could feel his cheekiness from the other side of the room, but Elsa was particularly amused by the way Toothiana’s whole body tensed up in preparation for Bunny’s antics. “You’re the better deal on both fronts, anyway!”

Toothiana scolded him for the next five minutes but hardly put any real fire into it, and North’s voice echoed throughout the study (“Now, now, Bunny—Jack has only been with us for two years now—and he has done SPLENDID job—“), and Sandy had already fallen asleep in his preferred winged-back chair by the fire, lulled into a nap by the comforting sound of his fellow Guardians arguing over something utterly ridiculous.

Late that night, as Toothiana hastily prepared for departure and her return to her endless work, she caught Elsa by surprise.

“We’ll understand if you would rather return,” Toothiana was gracious, so considerate in her efforts to not step on painful Memories, to not push Elsa too hard or too fast, too soon. “We recognize that this choice, this Oath, is not for everyone. But we hope you’ll consider it.”

Elsa nodded, appreciating the understanding in Tooth's eyes, though she couldn’t quite find the words to express it. The kindness and patience offered—by all of them—made her feel both comforted and conflicted; this was a choice she had to make for herself, but knowing she wouldn’t be judged either way brought a small measure of peace.

Toothiana let out a knowing smile that Elsa didn’t quite understand.

Two days before the Autumnal Equinox, the North Pole was strangely quiet; all others were out and about and attending to their centers, preparing their final tasks before they would all meet for the celebration, here in North’s home.

She thus found herself wandering the hallways alone, her footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor, thinking of the word home, and how it had changed for her over the years—first, her kingdom; then, her sister; then, the secrets that lay in the depths of Ahtohallan, and then nowhere at all.

What was home?

She paused in front of a large, intricately carved door she hadn’t noticed before. There was something inviting about it, something that called to her curiosity. Without thinking, she reached out and pushed it open, stepping into a room bathed in a soft, ethereal glow.

The room was a gallery of sorts, filled with shelves upon shelves of intricate snow globes, each one containing a different scene—some of them cheerful, others serene, and a few that looked like they were mid-snowstorm. Elsa moved closer, her breath catching as she realized what she was seeing. Each snow globe was a memory—not one of Toothiana’s collections of course, but rather, a moving picture—a small clip of some film, captured in glass and suspended in time.

She reached out to touch one that was particularly beautiful—a snow globe depicting a small village blanketed in fresh snow, children playing and laughing as they built snowmen and threw snowballs. The scene was so vivid, so real, that she could almost hear their laughter.

“Beautiful, no?” a voice said softly from behind her.

Elsa turned to see North standing in the doorway, a fond smile on his face as he watched her.

“They’re not Memories,” Elsa whispered, more to herself than to him. “They’re… Reminders.”

“Yes. They help with the Wonder, of course.”

Elsa couldn’t move her gaze away from the glass again. “Whose are they?”

North stepped into the room, his presence filling the space with genuine warmth, with joy. “They belong to all of us. The children, the Guardians… and a few others.”

He gestured to a shelf on the far wall, where a single snow globe sat, slightly larger than the others. It depicted a lone figure standing in the middle of a frozen lake, surrounded by a dense forest. Snowflakes danced around him, but there was a sadness to the scene, a loneliness that tugged at Elsa’s heart. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch the glass.

“That one,” North said softly, “also belongs to Jack.”

Elsa’s breath caught. She had heard so much about him, yet she still knew so little. The thought of him, alone in this beautiful but desolate scene, stirred something deep within her.

Are you someone out there who's a little bit like me?

Who knows deep down I'm not where I'm meant to be?

“Yes, he’s been through much,” North continued, his voice gentle, washing over Elsa’s rapidly-blinking thoughts, through the strange swell of sadness that swam through her chest. “But he IS strong, and has found his place among us. Still, there are parts of him that are… sometimes, difficult to reach. Things that… perhaps… someone may help… heal?”

Elsa side-eyed him, beneath her lashes. “You are growing less subtle each day, I fear.”

His boisterous laugh told her he wasn’t deterred in the slightest.

“Elsa, when few more centuries you have, you too shall learn when to drop SUBTLETY. No?”

Haven’t I already? But she humored him with a smile instead.

“Whatever you decide—we will support you, your Majesty.”

Elsa’s smile slipped, without her meaning to. Throat thick, she whispered, “No one has called me by that title for a very long time.”

Her eyes pricked with tears as North stepped closer to her, looking down at her—the way her father used to. The way her father might have, had he lived long enough to see her step into her own power, at last.

“I do not call you Majesty because you were Queen, or Snow Queen; I say because I remind you that what you have, and what you are, at your center, is FULL of that which makes living so majestic. It is my sincere wish that—“ and Elsa inhaled at the strange expression that passed his face, the soft mix of hope and resignation all at once— “You will choose the Oath with your full heart.”

Elsa wanted to thank him, but she didn’t want to lie; before she could settle on the perfect breath of diplomacy, North patted her shoulder in reassurance, and left the gallery, leaving Elsa with all the Reminders that were not hers, but insisted she be strong, anyway.

She gazed into the large snow globe, at the figure standing alone on the frozen lake in the deep forest, and Wondered, truly, for the first time, This was also my past…

Will I also find my future here, too?

The Equinox arrived, at last. Elsa had fashioned herself a dress for the occasion, and the excitement buzzing through the Workshop was palpable—everywhere she turned, there were smiles and knowing glances exchanged between the elves and the yetis, as if they all shared a secret that she was just on the cusp of understanding, but not quite privy to.

Elsa did not startle at Bunny’s sudden entrance behind her, but it was a near thing.

“Stop twitching,” Bunny muttered as he sidled up beside her, at the window, where she was watching the horizon and waiting for the other Guardians to arrive. When she glanced up at him, she found his nose twitching in nervous anticipation. “Don’t overthink it, Ice-pop. Jack’s a handful, but he’s got a good heart.”

“Oh? No further jabs at your friendly foe?”

“Nah,” Bunny grinned. “Today, I’m on my best behavior. Scout’s honor.”

“You mean ‘Toothy’s honor’.”

“Aye, that too.”

She considered pointing out that his nose was equally twitchy, but she let it slide.

Elsa understood.

And that understanding grew as some of the Guardians started to all trickle in at once; Toothiana sent wide glances about and around the room upon her arrival, and later, as she fussed with the elves’ itineraries, kept catching Bunny’s eye when they thought Elsa was not looking; Sandy checked his watch repeatedly after greeting them all with warm, sandy hugs; perhaps he was conscientious of the time… and yet… North’s laughter was too loud to be completely genuine. Elsa was beginning to understand the true purpose of tonight, swiftly and deeply; this night was no mere dinner, and no simple introduction. Tonight was an audition. An interview.

A trial.

At this point, Elsa didn’t even mind the inquisition; she just wanted it to start.

The storm outside had been raging for over an hour, and yet there was still no sign of Jack. The wind howled, whipping snow into frenzied swirls that danced and spun against the windows of North’s Workshop. The Guardians stood by the large bay window, watching the tempest with a mixture of awe and concern. Elsa had seen far fiercer storms before… but seeing this storm here, now…?

Elsa didn’t know what to think.

“Where do you suppose he is?” Toothiana murmured, her wings fluttering nervously as she peered out at the swirling snow. “When I got off the globe with him a few hours ago, he’d been in a good mood! Do you think he got distracted along the way?”

Sandy nodded, his golden sand forming an image of a snowflake, delicate and intricate, before it dispersed into the air. North stroked his beard thoughtfully, his gaze never leaving the storm.

“Such a nuisance,” Bunny agreed, his ears twitching as he squinted into the whiteout. “But he’ll wear himself out soon enough. Let’s get started, shall we?”

“Perhaps we might,” North rumbled, his voice filled with a deep, resonant certainty. “Jack may wish to make GRAND entrance—”

Elsa stood slightly apart from the others while they discussed, her eyes fixed on the tempest outside. The storm’s power called to something deep within her, something she recognized and understood. She had created countless storms like this, back in her darker days, when her emotions had been a force she couldn’t control. Here, she’d wanted to be a good guest, so it had been a month since she’d truly put her powers to proper use, out in the relative safety of the deep Antarctic deserts. But this…

There was a wildness to it, a reckless abandon. This storm wasn’t about emotion. It was—it’s—

He’s playing!

Just as the words passed through her mind, a voice suddenly piped up behind them, casual and completely out of place in the loud, bustling, tense atmosphere.

“What are y’all looking at?”

The Guardians turned as one, startled by the unexpected intrusion. There, leaning against a large shepherd’s crook, was someone who could be none other than Jack Frost—his expression one of casual amusement as he took in the scene before him. He had somehow appeared without a sound.

The room, which had been brimming with anticipation, fell into a moment of stunned silence, then burst back into noise and life in the very next breath.

Elsa blinked, her heart still racing from the intensity of the storm and the weight of her expectations. But now, seeing Jack standing there, looking so nonchalant and distant, she didn’t know whether to laugh or feel disappointed. He was lean, with his staff slung over his shoulder, and there was an air of mischief about him, tempered by something darker, something cautious.

North was the first to fully recover, letting out a booming laugh that overpowered the other surprised voices in the room. “Jack, you never fail to surprise us! We were just admiring your WORK outside, no?”

Jack grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Oh, that? Yeah, just setting the mood.”

Bunny rolled his eyes, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re a menace, Frostbite. You know that?”

Jack shrugged, his grin widening. “Just doing my job.”

Elsa felt a strange mix of emotions as she watched the easy banter between Jack and the other Guardians. She realized, perhaps too late, that she had built up this moment in her mind, imagining a dramatic, powerful entrance that would define their first meeting. Instead, she was faced with the reality of Jack Frost: a mischievous, irreverent spirit who seemed to take very little seriously, including the storm he had unleashed.

It was at that moment—in her quiet evaluation, her unexplained disappointment, her curious, lingering hope—that Jack caught her gaze.

Blue.

The playful expression slipped away, just for a flash; his blue eyes met hers, and she saw something there amidst the lingering laughter—something raw and guarded, something that told her that, like her, he was grappling with his own mixed expectations.

For a fleeting moment, Elsa’s breath caught in her throat, not just from the intensity of his gaze, but from the unexpected warmth that spread through her, as if she’d been touched by a sudden gust of spring wind.

“Jack, Jack, my boy, come—meet Elsa! Our dear Elsa—this is Jack, our newest Guardian.”

Elsa’s heart leapt into her throat. The room seemed to hold its breath as Jack hesitated—and then he stepped forward, approaching them at the window; Elsa stood patiently at Bunny’s side, watching Jack’s tousled white hair catch the light of the whiteout outside, watching as his blue eyes deliberately scanned the decorations around the room.

Jack Frost… ?

Elsa waited, patient as a glacier as Jack’s smirking gaze flickered over the gathered Guardians as he reached them, and he saluted North with a deliberately careless air. His smirking gaze lingered on each of them before finally landing on hers.

“Yeah, I’ve heard a lot about you,” he replied. His tone was not unkind, but deliberately casual. “New Guardian, right? They’ve been talking about you non-stop.”

There was a hint of something sharp in his voice, and Elsa felt a pang of anxiety, which she pushed down; Bunny was covering his muttering face with his hand, and Toothiana was rolling her eyes to the ceiling in dismay—or perhaps prayer. Elsa quickly assessed the crisp stare and the hard line of his jaw; she’d been hoping for warmth, for understanding, but what she found in Jack’s gaze was something closer to suspicion.

Keeping her gaze on his, trying to ease the tension she could feel coiling between them, she softly corrected, “I’m not a Guardian.”

At least, not yet…

Or so I…

Elsa felt her chin raise; old habits falling back into place; perfect and pretty and polite, all smooth ice underneath; an effective mask for a Queen.

“I’m here on an invitation,” she said softly, and knew that he would not see the ice daggers in her eyes; not yet, although she was certain he was looking for them. “I’m very grateful to North and all of you for hosting me in honor of this autumnal celebration.”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

That is suspicion there, isn’t it? And guardedness… He was trying hard to hide something behind a facade of coolness—some debonair indifference. Elsa recognized the act immediately but played along because there was something else there, too, something that made her heart ache with a familiar loneliness. I’m an ally, she tried to impress upon him through nothing more than the thought. Enough of this!

I could be a friend!

But then, Toothiana swooped in, her wings fluttering with a cheerful energy that instantly distracted them—if not immediately lifting the mood.

“Well! Isn’t this just the perfect way to spend the Equinox?” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together, drawing their attention away from one another; Elsa was grateful for Toothiana’s quick thinking, her impressive tact. “Jack, I’m sure you’re energized and starving for a glass of eggnog after all that storm-making. Let’s not waste any more time!”

“Uh, did Bunny make it?”

“What’s it to ya, you little twerp?” Bunny shot back, narrowing his eyes with mock suspicion.

Jack grinned, the tension easing slightly as he fell into what must have been familiar banter. “Just making sure it’s safe, is all. Wouldn’t want our guest of honor to get sick on her first night here.”

“Actually, she’s been here for over a month now—“

Elsa watched the exchange (Jack was rolling his eyes) with a mixture of amusement and relief and… unease. (Toothiana’s interruption had indeed worked wonders, shifting the focus away from the awkwardness of their initial encounter and giving everyone, including herself, a chance to breathe.)

(And yet… the warmth of the room contrasted sharply with the chill still clinging to her thoughts.)

As they all moved toward the dining room, Elsa fell in step beside Toothiana, grateful for the other Guardians’ subtle (for once!) alliance and support. She marveled at how, even two centuries since her last political summit, Elsa still remembered every step of walking into a political negotiation; Elsa knew how to navigate delicate situations, how to read the subtlest shifts in tone, how to win.

Elsa had always been a fine Reader of the Room; centuries of invisibility had only strengthened her skills.

And so the Trial begins…

This first impression was a test—one she intended to pass.

And although Jack started to relax once they were all seated and well into the evening—his guarded expression giving way to something more genuine as he bantered with Bunny and teased North about his over-the-top decorations—the knots in Elsa’s stomach remained.

How could she make him see that she wasn’t here to replace him—but to find her own place among them?

The Guardians fell into their usual rhythm as they ate and laughed together, the conversation flowing (mostly) easily between them. Elsa, too, had found her own rhythm with the Guardians during her month-long stay, understanding certain inside jokes and the fascinating nuances of their personalities. But even as she joined in their laughter, the tension between her and Jack was palpable, thicker than the winter storm raging outside.

She observed how Jack's eyes flicked between her and the other Guardians, his smile not quite reaching his eyes as he noted instances of the easy familiarity she had developed with them over the previous weeks. He joked along with everyone else, but there was a sharpness to his tone, occasionally—and it seemed that all the other Guardians could clearly tell, even if they were choosing to ignore it with varying degrees of patience… and understanding.

Elsa could feel him measuring every word she said, every laugh she shared with the others. It wasn’t just that she was new or unfamiliar—it was that she had quickly become a part of something that Jack had spent years, perhaps centuries, building with them.

All of the Guardians’ assurances and encouragement over the past month had not hinted at the true nature of their concern; Elsa realized quite quickly that this rift wasn’t something that could be resolved with pleasantries or polite conversation.

Winning his trust wouldn’t come easily—it would demand more than just time; it would require something deeper.

Later that night, after everyone had retired to their quarters or gone out for their evenings of work, Elsa found herself wandering the halls of North’s Workshop, her mind a whirl of thoughts and emotions, as was her wont.

The evening had not exactly gone to plan, but she supposed it could have been worse. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Jack still viewed her as a threat. It bothered her more than she cared to admit. She’d need to discuss it with Toothiana tomorrow. Perhaps they might lend me a snow globe?

As she rounded a corner, headed toward the snow globe Reminder gallery, she nearly collided with Jack himself—who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. He was leaning casually against the wall, his staff resting on his shoulder, but there was a tension in his posture that belied his relaxed demeanor.

He’d been waiting for her.

“Jack,” she said, startled but keeping her voice steady; once more, familiar, old-fashioned patterns of politeness resurfaced in her moment of uncertainty. “I beg your pardon. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

He didn’t respond immediately, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her. “Could say the same about you. Can’t sleep?”

Elsa hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. “Just... thinking. It’s been a lot to take in.”

Jack nodded, though he didn’t seem entirely convinced. He pushed himself off the wall and took a step closer, his expression unreadable. “You know, everyone seems pretty excited about you joining us. North, Bunny, even Tooth—they all think you’d be a great addition.”

She could hear the ‘but’ hanging in the air, unspoken but heavy between them; the way addition sounded like replacement.

Elsa squared her shoulders, meeting his gaze head-on. There was an intensity in his eyes, a challenge that sent a shiver down her spine, though she quickly attributed it to the cold. “Jack, I’m not here to replace you.”

The words hung in the air, sharp and clear. For a moment, Jack’s expression flickered, something vulnerable and upset flashing in his eyes before he quickly masked it with a smirk. “Who said anything about that?”

“No one—listen to me, I know you’re worried,” Elsa continued, refusing to let him deflect. “But you have no need to be. I’m not here to take your place. I’m here because…” Why am I here? “I was invited. I am simply getting to know you all better. I’ve been alone for some time.”

“Spare me the politicking,” Jack huffed, which, indeed, Elsa did take offense to. Especially since she genuinely had not been trying to be diplomatic; just careful.

Perhaps he didn’t believe her story… about being alone?

The idea was more painful than she expected.

Elsa’s eyes narrowed slightly, holding Jack’s gaze. “I’m not here to play games, Jack. I’m just looking for where I might belong—that is all.”

“Will you take the Oath, then? What’s your center?”

Elsa couldn’t explain it, but this struck her as an absurdly personal question. Still. She could recognize a caged animal when she saw one. So, Elsa took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his question press down on her. The idea of the Oath, of finding her center, had been something she had pondered endlessly since she’d learned of its existence—perhaps since her arrival, if she was being honest. But to be confronted with it so directly by Jack, someone who still seemed to see her as a rival, made it all the more daunting.

“I’m not sure,” she finally admitted, her voice quiet but steady. “I’ve been... trying to understand what it would mean for me to take the Oath, to become a Guardian.” She willed him to understand, at last. “It’s not something I want to rush into without being certain.”

Jack’s gaze remained fixed on her, his blue eyes sharp, but there was a flicker of something softer there—a recognition, perhaps, of the honesty in her words. “And your center?” he pressed. “Do you even know what it is yet?”

Elsa hesitated again, her thoughts swirling. A long time ago, she had known who she was, what she was meant to do. She’d thought so.

But after everything she had been through, all the loss, the isolation, and the rediscovery, she wasn’t sure if her center was what it once had been.

“Perhaps I might have, once,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “But now... Regardless of whether or not I join you, I’d like to think that there is something at the core of why I am still here.”

“In the Workshop?”

“No, I mean… I mean here.”

Jack tilted his head, studying her with a mix of curiosity and caution. Something told her that she finally got through to him, just a little. Elsa felt herself feeling sympathy for him; even after becoming a Guardian, he was still filled with such…

Fear.

Doubt.

He didn’t respond immediately, his expression unreadable. For a brief, startling moment, she wondered what it would be like to stand by his side, to take the Oath together—as allies, as... something more?

She brushed the thought aside, but the idea lingered, persistent.

Then, finally, he let out a small, almost reluctant sigh. “It’s not easy, you know. Being a Guardian. Finding your center. It’s... it’s not something you just, like, stumble upon.”

“I understand,” Elsa said, her tone sincere. “But if there’s a chance that this is where I’m meant to be—then I’m willing to take that risk. I’m not interested in taking that away from you. You—you haven’t even seen what I can do yet! We don’t even know how much overlap we’d find in our powers, anyway!”

“You impressed Bunny in Antartica,” he practically accused. “That’s enough to say something, isn’t it?”

Elsa was trying her very best to remain steady and calm. “And what about you? What did it take for you to find your center?”

His eyes snapped back to hers, and for a moment, she saw something raw and unguarded in his gaze. “So they didn’t tell you everything, huh?”

She gaped at him. Honestly!

Elsa took a deep breath, steadying herself as she met Jack's gaze. "Jack, you’re being ridiculous. I’m not here to steal anything from you—certainly not your place among the Guardians. I haven’t even decided if—I don’t know if—“

“I already know you’re gonna join us,” he said, almost in a whisper, as if admitting something he hadn’t wanted to face.

“Oh?” Elsa raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious. “And what makes you so sure?”

Jack hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching hers, and then, with a passion she hadn’t expected, he replied, “Because there’s nothing better. There’s nothing like it. It’s everything.”

Elsa was stunned by the raw intensity of his words, the conviction in his voice. She could see it in his eyes—this was more than just a responsibility, more than just a role for him. It was his purpose, his identity—his life, or whatever this agelessness was. For a moment, the air between them seemed to crackle with something unspoken, a deep understanding that went beyond words.

She felt her heart skip a beat, a strange mixture of emotions swirling within her—curiosity, admiration, and something else, something unfamiliar. Her pulse quickened.

Jack seemed to realize the weight of his words, and he quickly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Wait. I... I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting,” he said, his voice softer now, more hesitant. “I guess I’ve been... on edge, and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.”

Still shocked by how deeply his declaration affected her, how his passion stirred something within her that she hadn’t felt in a long time, Elsa softened at his apology, nodding slightly. “I… understand. And I accept your apology. I appreciate… you saying that. I’m sure it wasn’t easy to come home and see someone new in the middle of it all.”

Elsa thought she heard him laugh under his breath, mouthing the word Home—

Jack nodded, his shoulders relaxing just a bit. “Yeah... it is. Anyway. I’m tired. I think I’m gonna call it a night.”

Elsa watched him start to turn away, a sudden sense of urgency bubbling up inside her. “Jack, wait—”

He paused, glancing back at her, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. They were so wide, when they weren’t glaring!

“Shouldn’t we start over?” she asked, her voice gentler, almost tentative in her rush. She extended her hand toward him. “My name is Elsa. I happen to wield ice magic. E. Aster Bunnymund found me on an iceberg a few weeks ago as I was in the middle of creating a particularly notable blizzard, and he invited me to meet his friends, whom he loves and respects very much.”

Jack looked at her hand, then back at her face, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Slowly, a smirk crawled over his face.

“Alright, I’ll bite,” Jack floated closer, and Elsa held steady—stories or no stories, she had not been prepared to see him fly! “I’m Jack. I also happen to ‘wield’ ice and frost magic. Bunny did not find me on an iceberg, but I’m pretty sure he’d love to stick me in one. Nice to meet you, Elsa, who promises not to steal my spot on the A-team. Welcome to the madness,” and he reached out and took her hand in his, giving it a firm shake.

The moment their hands touched, a strange, electric current seemed to pass between them, and Elsa felt her breath hitch in her throat.

Oh—

He’s—he’s rather handsome, she realized with a start.

They held each other’s gaze for a moment longer than necessary, the air between them thick with something she could not, would not name.

Jack was the first to break the silence, his voice a little rougher than before. “Yeah... maybe we should—”

They let go of each other’s hands, but the sensation of his touch lingered, warm and unsettling. Elsa felt a flush creep up her cheeks, unsure of what to make of the emotions swirling inside her.

“Uh—goodnight, Elsa."

“Goodnight, Jack,” she replied, her voice steadier than she felt.

And with that, he turned and disappeared back into the shadows of the corridor, leaving Elsa standing alone in the soft glow of the snow globe gallery. She watched him go, a mix of hope and uncertainty swirling in her chest. The conversation had been difficult, but it had also been a step forward—a tentative, fragile step toward something more. Right?

As she turned back to her quarters, Elsa found herself tracing the line of his smirk in her mind, the curve of his jaw, the sharpness of his eyes—after weeks of wondering about what he might look like, might be like, she finally had the vision, the Memory of his face.

She rushed with the ornate door handle of her guest room, eager to be inside her room, alone, in the peace and quiet, and finally process the events of the evening, to reflect on all that she'd learned, she'd accomplished, she'd proved.

Exhausted by the sheer weight of so many careful decisions in so short a time, Elsa closed the door behind her with a deep sigh. Exhausted, yes, but also satisfied. She shut her eyes as she leaned against the back of the door and allowed herself a small, tentatively victorious grin, content in the knowledge that when she drifted off to sleep that night, the echoes of their meeting, their tentative truce would fill her mind; this moment gave her, indeed, a sense of Hope that she hadn’t felt in years...

But, in her mind, the Memory that lingered most vividly, as she tossed and turned—was his face.

ao3 ✨

#08192024 update #fixed some typos!!! some missing italics representing thoughts which i think tumblr ate!!!#jelsa #sanfangirl-cynicalromantic #I LOVE YOU LADY THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL OF YOUR SUPER THOUGHTFUL ASKS #therentyoupay two homes #therentyoupay fic #therentyoupay fic prompts #therentyoupay ask #ngl it's also so good for me to just write one-offs and ficlets and prompts every once in a while!!#A PALLTETTE CLEANSERRR #also spoiler alert if jack is not pining then ELSA IS THE ONE PINING LMAO

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