#found something from like half a year in my drafts but I think I still like it so here it is ig | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nickfowlerrr · 1 year

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can you feel it?

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader (soulmate au)

warnings: really nothing but fluff. mentions of light baking burns. lmk if something needs to be tagged.

words: 2.3k

notes: this is my entry for @lunarbuck’s soulmate challenge. i used the prompt: you cannot feel pain until you meet your soulmate.🩵 and thank you to @dreamlandcreations for beta reading/editing my first draft!

Mmm, you hummed mindlessly.

The sweet, warm aroma of your latest batch of pumpkin chocolate chip cookies swirled through your small bakery, filling your nose and eliciting a smile from you as you walked to the back counter, setting down the hot tray you were holding.

You slid off the oven mit you wore and tossed it carelessly before you spun around to get the last tray of dough in the oven.

Your fingers brushed the hot grate of the oven as you slipped the tray in, and though you couldn’t feel the pain or burn of it, you still mentally chided yourself for not being more careful.

It was mid-September, that time of year when summer was still the season, but fall was all around.

You had been messing with some seasonal recipes for the past few days and had most of your impending fall lineup set. You were going to start slow with the roll out, and today was the first day you’d have these cookies out in the display.

You were a bit overly excited, but you hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that today would be a great day since you’d gotten up. Even Nickie calling to let you know she’d be late for her shift hadn’t dampened your mood.

You sipped from the straw of your cold brew, floating aimlessly around the quaint space while you were waiting for the cookies to cool, the oven to go off, or a customer to walk in. You’d swept the floor and cleaned the counters and tables a good three times now despite their already pristine state. It was a slow day, but you knew not to expect many people until after noon.

You eventually found yourself staring out the large glass window at the front of the shop, looking out onto the picturesque town street, watching the few passersby and the leaves that were blowing around; the branches of the trees that lined the streets swaying gently in the late summer breeze.

You weren’t sure why, but as you stood there gazing out the window, you suddenly found yourself growing eager, a sense of excitement coming over you. You felt like you were waiting for something…someone.

Just as the feelings were put into words in your mind, the ringing of the entrance bell sounded and pulled you from your thoughts. You tutted quietly at yourself before you turned and went to greet whoever it was.

You stopped short on your hello when you saw Nickie pulling off her cardigan.

“Well, look who finally decided to show up,” you said with a teasing smirk and a raised brow.

Nicki smiled guiltily, “Sorry,” she offered through a nervous titter, “Eli’s alarm didn’t go off, so we were both scrambling this morning.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you brushed off her apology, “it’s been pretty quiet so far.”

“It smells amazing in here, did you make the pumpkin cookies?”

“Last batch is in the oven right now,” you nodded with a grin. “There’s some in the display case already, grab one, tell me what you think,” you said, walking over to meet her behind the counter.

You grasped your hands together while you leaned against the side of the register, anxious to get her thoughts.

Nickie grabbed a cookie and just as she was about to take a bite, the bell on the door rang again. You turned, smiling to offer your usual, “Hello, welcome in!”, but your voice caught in your throat when you did, only managing out a half hello.

Your eyes met steel blue as the man who had just entered stalled in his path for a brief second. He blinked then and seemed to correct his posture, clearing his throat, eyes never leaving yours, “Hi,” he offered.

“Welcome in,” you breathed, voice much quieter than you intended it to be.

You couldn't seem to take your eyes off of him as he approached the counter. He was tall, well built with dark hair, and god, those eyes. You could swim in them, they were so blue. He looked effortlessly cool, wearing a dark canvas jacket with the collar popped ever so slightly over a plain charcoal henley, his black jeans and boots completing the outfit as a chain of silver showed a bit from above his shirt collar. The dark color scheme worked well for the weather and for his features. The blue of his eyes even more emphasized by the color of his clothing. His jaw was square and sharp, and the structure of his cheekbones brought attention to the bags under his eyes. But they, along with his five o’clock shadow, only added to his aesthetic. You wondered if he knew that, if he was aware. You’d seen many a man who wore the same style, but it was so clearly put on. This seemed to be very him. Not that you knew him, of course, but still it was evident.

It occurred to you though, as cool as he seemed, there was the tiniest bit of pink coloring his cheeks as he slyly rubbed his neck, before he finally stood before you, that betrayed his air of cool.

Nickie looked between the two of you with a quirked brow as you began taking the man’s order.

Your fingers twiddled over the screen in your nervousness while he looked over the menu, musing aloud before he moved to walk the display case.

“What’s your favorite?” he asked, a wave of self assurance growing over him as he casually shoved his hands in his pockets, turning to watch you as you forced your own hands to still before standing up a bit straighter at the question. It was innocent enough, despite the smoothness of his words and the smile that played on the corner of his lips as he recognized your fidgeting for what it is - your own nerves bounding around you.

“Oh, um,” you took a breath, thinking for a second, “I’m pretty partial to the classics, actually,” you said with a small smile, moving down a bit to be closer to where he stood, a bit of your own self assurance coming over you in turn. “The pink sugar cookie and the chocolate chip are probably the biggest sellers, too. But, in my humble opinion, you really can’t go wrong with whatever you choose.”

He smiled at you as you let your own gaze drift down to the case of treats before you.

“If you want to try anything, we do samples, so-” you were about to start rambling when the oven went off, both of you looking over at the sound.

“I’ll get it,” Nickie called from the small kitchen, just past the back counter, where she had gone to eat her cookie.

You turned back to the man and were met with his eyes already on you, both of your brows raising in quiet surprise. He was closer to you now than he was a moment again, and you tittered. You couldn’t fight the small smile that cracked on your face, and he returned a soft one of his own.

“Did you wanna-” you were cut off by Nickie as she looked around, growing a little frantic.

“Do you know where the oven mit is?”

“Oh, I had it..” you tried to think where it could have landed when you’d tossed it earlier, making a face as you came up empty, moving to search the area with her. “Ahhh. I don’t.. Damn,” you breathed.

You took another quick glance around before you moved to the oven. You really didn’t want them to burn.

“I’ll just grab it really fast,” you told Nickie as you pulled the oven door open.

She cringed at the thought, “I know you can’t feel it, but still, you shouldn’t do that,” she warned.

“I’ll be fine,” you assured her, “I’ll put them down super quick, can you just clear the counter and then we’ll move them to the rack in a minute.”

You could feel the man’s eyes on you still, and as you reached to grab the tray, you turned to speak to him, “Sorry. If you want to try anything, just let me know.”

As you were turning and talking, you blindly grabbed the tray.

It took a second for it to hit you but then all at once you felt the burn.

You quickly let go, pulling your hand back with a harsh gasp before you could get the cookies out. You grasped onto your wrist out of instinct as the pain burned through you.

“Fuck,” you cursed as you gripped your hand.

“Are you okay?” both the man and Nickie asked in unison, watching you with concern.

You flicked your eyes up to the man before looking over at Nickie.

“It.. it hurts,” you said, confused by the fact that you felt it at all, and yet knowing full well what that had to mean.

“Oh,” she breathed in response, her gaze flicking over to the man still standing at the counter, but getting closer, all the while keeping his eyes on you. She blinked, eyes rounding slightly as she looked at you once more, “I’ll get a towel or something.”

She rushed away while you groaned softly. Both at the stinging burn and the fact that your cookies were definitely getting too baked.

“Just grab whatever will work,” you called to her, “they’re gonna burn if we leave them any longer.”

“I can grab them for you,” the man offered as he approached you, coming around the counter to where you were. “I uh, I haven’t met my soulmate, so…” he seemed a little embarrassed by the confession as you stared at him dumbly.

Your mind was racing with all the things you wanted to say to him, but your tongue was refusing to move as you stood there holding your hand.

He stepped closer, and it seemed he was waiting for your permission as he nodded to the oven. You looked at him and then to the tray of cookies waiting to be taken out. You took a step back and gave him room to get to the tray. A part of you wanted to warn him that you’d thought the same thing when you’d grabbed it, only to be proven wrong, but another wanted to confirm that... that it was him.

You watched intently as he reached into the oven. It felt like he was moving in slow motion while you waited for his hand to make contact with the metal tray.

He grasped it and his forehead creased, brows furrowing as he quickly moved from the oven to drop it onto the back counter. You were holding your breath and almost deflated until you realized he was cursing under his when he was holding the tray.

“Shit,” he cursed once more, shaking out his hand, his brows still drawn together. You were staring at him with rounded eyes as you continued clutching your own burn.

You offered him your name and you stepped closer, your voice making him lift his gaze from examining the burn on his hand, up to you.

His brilliant eyes seemed to twinkle in understanding as he met your own. He breathed a smile, mirroring your movements and taking a step to you in turn.

“James. You can call me Bucky,” he simpered.

“Bucky,” you nodded as your lips curled into a soft smile of your own. “Thank you, for saving the cookies,” you offered.

“You’re welcome. Should maybe invest in some more oven mitts, though,” he joked with a mirthful smirk playing on his lips.

“I should,” you agreed with a nod and a light laugh. “Sorry about your hand.. I uhm, I have a first aid kit in the back,” you gestured with your head, “burn cream included.”

“That’d be good,” he said, “and you have nothing to be sorry about, I offered,” he continued, trailing you to the back. Nickie passed you sheepishly, though she gave you a small, knowing smile as she went to watch the front.

You swallowed hard and cleared your throat of your nerves as you worked to collect yourself, gathering your bearings with this turn of events.

“So... Bucky, huh?” you said as you grabbed the stuff you needed from the kit and watched him lean against the empty counter. You walked back over to him as he waited for you.

“Yeah. It’s uh,” he stifled a small hiss as you smeared some ointment onto his burn, gently holding his hand as you did. There was something about the soft touch that you couldn’t quite explain. The way it makes you feel, something you’ve never felt before. It wasn’t like the pain, it was more like a comfort, but still it was new. “It’s usually reserved for friends...family, but I think soulmate fits in there, too,” he smiled charmingly at you before taking the tube of cream from your hand. “Unless you like James more,” he offered, “honestly, I’d probably answer to whatever you wanted to call me,” he flirted easily.

You held your breath at the touch, and let out a soft titter at his words, a spark stemming from his hold as you let him put some ointment on your small burn.

“I think I’ll go with Bucky for now,” you smiled, meeting his brilliant blue gaze.

“So I- I’m not too sure how this goes…” he started, a self-deprecating smile sitting crooked on his lips while he let go of your hand, somewhat reluctantly, once he was done with the cream, setting the tube on the counter before looking back at you, “but I was thinking we could start with dinner.”

There was a twinkle in his eye again, hope shining through, and you were sure your gaze held much the same as you waited for him to ask. “Are you free tonight?”

#bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x curvy!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fic #soulmate!au #bucky barnes x soulmate!reader

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justmystyles · 7 months

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Big Winners - Part 1

read my other work here!

pairing: Harry Styles x record producer plus size reader

*i say it's a plus size reader, but it is not something that i focus on explicitly in my fics, because your size should not define you. it will only come up if it comes into the story organically.*

word count: 3,118

summary: Harry and Y/N have been friends for fifteen years, they finally work together on an album, and it leads them to a night that will change everything for them.

a/n: earlier this month, all the grammy memories popped up, and it inspired me to write this. i have a million half finished 'moment turned fic' stories in my drafts, but I actually managed to (mostly) finish this one. this is either going to be 2 or 3 parts, i still have a bit to finish, so we'll see.

tags: @abby8694 @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @blueraspberryreader @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @deannaard @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @laurxn-robinson @lexiecamposv @likeapplejuicenpeach @lilfreakjez @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @potterheadandsherlocked @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

Y/N and Harry met fifteen years ago, One Direction had been recently formed, and she was doing an internship at the studio where they were working on their debut album. She had befriended the entire band, but she and Harry clicked instantly, and formed a tight bond.

They stayed close throughout the years. Harry’s career, both with the band and as a solo artist skyrocketed, while Y/N moved through the industry and had found herself producing some smaller projects. She rarely turned down an opportunity, taking on any work that came her way just to get the experience and the connections. Then, she received the offer of a lifetime.

Once Harry had finished Love on Tour, he celebrated by inviting some of his closest friends and family to his villa in Italy for two weeks to relax and recharge. Y/N was one of the first people he asked. One night during the trip, Harry and Y/N snuck away from the group; it was intentional on his end, because he had something he was dying to ask her.

As they sat on the moonlit beach shoulder to shoulder, their toes in the sand, Harry leaned over and bumped his shoulder against hers. “So, I’m going to be starting work on the new album soon.”

“Jesus Har, you’re not even finished with your recharge vacation and you’re already thinking about the next thing?” She chuckled.

“You know I can’t turn it off.” He said with a sheepish laugh. “But there’s actually a reason I brought it up… I’ve been thinking about the direction I want to take, and who I want to work with, and I was wondering if you’d want to produce it for me?”

Y/N lets out a loud bark of laughter, startling Harry. “Good one.”

“I’m serious.” He looks at her, and she can see that he really does mean what he says.

“Harry, I don’t have production experience on that level.” She says, still in shock. “I mean, unless this is like a lullaby album or something.”

Harry chuckles. “It’s not, but I know you can do it. I know your work, you’re so much more talented than you give yourself credit for. And sure, you haven’t got experience on my level, but you’re never going to get it if you don’t put yourself out there, who better to get the experience with than your best friend?” He says with a toothy, dimpled grin.

“Literally anyone else?” She teases.

“Hey,” he whines with a furrowed brow. “You know you love me.”

“Yeah yeah yeah.” The two of them are silent for a moment, while she lets his offer sink in. “You really want me to do this? You want me to be your producer?”

“That’s why I asked.” He scoffs. “But seriously, nobody knows me better than you, you understand me, you always push me when I need it, and you don’t take my shit. Imagine how that would translate to music. I think it could be something really amazing. Plus, we’d get to hang out a bunch.”

“Ugh… you were making a good argument until you mentioned spending that much time together.” She says sarcastically as she rolls her eyes.

“Hey,” Harry says in a serious tone. “If you don’t want to do it, just tell me. But I really can’t imagine taking the next step in my career with anyone else.”

She sighs and smiles softly at him. “I would really love to work with you, Harry. If you’re sure, let’s do it.”

His smile grows once again as he pulls her into a big hug. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

A few months later, the two of them embarked on their first collaboration, Harry’s fourth studio album, and it was an even better experience than either of them thought it would be. They knew each other so well, that they were perfectly in sync with every chord and every lyric. By the time they had a completed album, they were both confident that this was the best work of their careers.

They were so proud of what they had done that they didn’t care how it sold, or what the reviews said, they knew that they had created something magical and if they were the only two people that liked it, they couldn't care less. However, that wasn’t the case. The record was a hit; glowing reviews, great numbers, and the fans positively ate it up.

Harry and Y/N’s friendship was one that was well known, his fans would go crazy everytime they were seen together, the fandom was constantly shipping them. So when they found out that she was producing the record, it amped up the anticipation tenfold. As soon as it was released, they were combing the lyrics, and criticizing every background vocal and sound to find any clues about the true standing of the relationship. Of course, there was plenty of speculation, but the truth wasn’t anywhere near as exciting as the conspiracies and analysis. They were genuinely just two best friends with creative minds that made something amazing together.

Given the reception the album received, it was no surprise that, when award season rolled around, they received a generous amount of nominations. So here they were, in LA, sharing a hotel suite and preparing to attend the Grammy Awards.

As Y/N sat down to begin the hair and makeup process, Harry stepped out to go for a run to clear his mind. He was nervous about what the evening would hold. Partly for his performance, especially given the mistake at the beginning of his last Grammy appearance in 2023. He had insisted on extra rehearsal time, and extended the production meeting to make sure that everyone knew exactly what needed to happen and when. But more than that, he wanted this night to be perfect for Y/N. He had won awards before, but this was her first time being nominated. When they had first met, Y/N had told him about her dreams and one of the things she mentioned was the Grammys. He wanted this for her more than he did for himself. And although he knew she had matured in the last fifteen years, and valued more than just accolades and awards, if he could be the reason one of her childhood dreams came true, that would mean more to him than anything.

When Harry returned from his run, he saw Y/N sitting in the common area, her hair and makeup still being worked on. She locks eyes with him through the mirror.

“Hey, did the run help?” She asks.

Harry shrugs as he approaches her. “A little, still pretty nervous though.”

“What’s making you nervous? The nominations, or the performance?”

Harry thought about the best way to answer this question, he didn’t want to tell her that he was nervous for her. He knew that even though she was hiding it well, she was nervous too, and his nerves on her behalf would make hers worse. On top of that, Y/N was alway so sweet and empathetic, she would take it personally and see herself as the reason he was nervous and end up feeling bad. He didn’t want to put a damper on this night for her.

“Mostly the performance, I guess.” He finally responds.

She extends her arm out, wiggling her fingers in an invitation for him to take her hand. When he joins his hand with hers, she squeezes gently. “You’re going to be amazing. I’ve never seen you give a bad performance. You’re going to kill it, and I’m going to be right there in the crowd losing my shit for you, just like I always do.”

Harry laughs at her pep talk. “You know this is an industry thing, not a concert, right? People aren’t exactly going to be losing their shit in the audience.”

“Good, then it will be easier for you to notice me from the stage.” She looks over at him with a sweet smirk.

“Like I could ever miss you.” He scoffs, squeezing her hand.

“You’re showering before you get dressed, right?” She asks with an arched brow, lightning the mood.

“Not before I give you a big, sweaty hug…” He says, outstretching his arms and moving closer.

“Harry Edward,” she says in a warning tone. “I’m already forty-five minutes into getting ready, and still have at least thirty to go. I cannot start over.

“God, you’re such a girl…” He groans and kisses her on the cheek before going into the bathroom to shower.

While Harry showered, Y/N’s mind was racing. She’d known Harry long enough to know that there was more going on than just being nervous about the performance, but she wasn’t going to push him. She would just do everything she could to support and comfort him.

After his shower, Harry stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a robe just as Y/N’s hair and makeup was being finished. She stood from her chair, thanked her glam team and stepped up to Harry.

“We should just go like this, it would cause quite a stir.” She joked as they stood face to face in their matching bathrobes.

He smiles softly, still feeling the nerves flow through him.

“Hey, you’ve got this… we’ve got this.” She assures him. “Even if we don’t win, the album was amazing. We made something beautiful. If the academy sees that, great. If not, whatever, we don’t need them anyway.”

Harry smiles and pulls her into a hug. “Yeah, I know, I know. No matter what, I am so proud of what we did. It’s better than I even imagined it would be, and I owe all of that to you.”

She giggles as she pulls out of the hug. “I didn’t do anything. I just pushed buttons and bossed you around.”

Harry laughs loudly. “Two things you’re good at. Being bossy and pushing my buttons.” She gasps in mock outrage and slaps his chest playfully. “Seriously though, you brought my vision to life, and you did all the behind the scenes work to make sure it was the best album possible. You’re the biggest reason we’re here tonight.”

Y/N smiles shyly and blushes. “Oh come on…”

Harry smirks mischievously, he always found it hilarious when he’d make her blush. He decided to double down. “Well, whatever the outcome, at least I’ll have the cutest date in the room.” He wiggles his eyebrows playfully.

“God, you’re the worst.” She chuckles as her blush deepens. “I have to go put my dress on. You changing?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I’ll do that now. Meet you back here in ten?”

“It’s a complicated dress, might need fifteen…”

“God,” he groans playfully. “Such a diva!”

Y/N sticks her tongue out at him and turns to go into her room to get dressed.

Twenty minutes later, Harry is pacing around in his suit, it’s a simple black suit with a gold silk shirt, unbuttoned enough to display the sparrows on his chest, and the butterfly across his abdomen. He steps up to her door and knocks gently as a reminder that they need to get going.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” She calls through the door.

A few moments later, she emerges in a long gown, made of the same golden silk as Harry’s shirt. Harry’s eyes go wide when he sees her. She looks stunning, the gown hugs her curves in all the right places, and compliments her skin tone perfectly.

Harry’s silence makes Y/N feel a little self conscious. She rarely dresses up, and when she does, she doesn’t usually pick things that put her body on display like this.

“Is it… do I look okay?” She asks tentatively.

“It’s stunning, Y/N.” Harry looks at her in awe. “You look so incredibly beautiful, like an angel…”

“Alright Har, come on…” she says bashfully as she drops her gaze.

“No, seriously. You clean up nice.” He chuckles, punching her on the arm playfully.

“Yeah, well you don’t look so bad yourself.” She looks him over, a small smirk appearing on her face. “Is this why you wanted me to work with your team to pick my outfit? So we would be matching?”

Harry chuckles and shrugs sheepishly. “Maybe…”

“You’re such a little pain in the ass.” She chuckles.

“Whatever, it was worth it.” He says, grabbing her wrist and positioning them in front of the full length mirror. “We look damn good”

“That we do.” She replies with a smile. She notices his expression grow more serious and furrows her brow. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just… fifteen years…” He says wistfully. “We’ve had a hell of a run, you and I.”

“Well it’s not over yet!”

“No, I know. Will you just shut up and let me have a moment?” He says as he nudges her. “We’ve been through a lot together, and I can’t really express how much it means to be standing here with you right now. No matter what happens tonight, we’ve definitely already won.”

“Yeah, we have.” She sighs, wrapping her arm around his waist and pulling him into a side hug. “Now cut it out with all this mushy stuff, my makeup took way too long for me to start crying right now.”

Harry laughs and pulls her into a tight hug. “Alright, alright, we’ll save the mushy crying for later.” He gives her one last squeeze before pulling out of the embrace. “Ready to go?”

She nods and he leads her out the door and down the hallway to the elevator. As it makes its descent to the lobby, Y/N gets uncharacteristically quiet.

“You good?” Harry asks softly. “You seem quiet.”

She looks up at him, almost as if the sound of his voice broke her out of a trance. “Hmm? Yeah, sorry. I think the gravity of everything is finally hitting me. Like, it was all conceptual before, just words. But it’s real, we’re on our way to the Grammy awards… we’re nominated.”

Harry takes her hand, squeezing it gently. “I know. But you can’t worry about it, no more stressing out, okay? Tonight is our night, we just need to go out there and enjoy it.”

“Can I say one more mushy thing before we stop trying to make each other cry?”

Harry chuckles and nods, looking forward to hearing what Y/N has to say.

“I… when I decided I wanted to be a producer, my big thing was that I always told people I wanted to win Grammy awards. And I know we shouldn’t be defined by awards, but in an industry like this, you have to have some way to quantify or legitimize what you do to people who aren’t a part of it, and that was my way of doing it. I’ve been doing this for a long time, and this is the first time I’ve been nominated. I can’t tell you how glad I am that my first nomination is with you. It means the world to me that I can have this moment, share this milestone with my best friend. So thank you for letting me be a part of this album. You have no idea what it means to me.”

Harry is taken aback by Y/N’s words. While they were close, and shared everything, she would rarely be so open and vulnerable with her words. No matter what happened at the award show, that moment, right there in the elevator, would be the highlight of his night. He wraps his arms around her and pulls her close, burying his face in her neck.

“You have no idea what this means to me.” He mumbles against her neck.

“Okay, so no nerves then?” She asks, pulling out of his embrace. “Whatever happens tonight, we will always have this moment together, and that’s what matters.”

“Agreed.” Harry says, holding his hand out to shake hers. She giggles at the gesture and shakes his hand firmly.

After a short ride in the limo, Harry slips out of the car and extends his hand, helping Y/N out. They walk through security and up to the start of the red carpet. Harry turns to face Y/N, and she adjusts his jacket, making sure he looks picture perfect.

“Okay, go out there and smile big. I’ll see you on the other side.” She says like a proud mom, sending her son off to picture day.

“How’s my hair?” He asks cheekily.

She giggles and runs her hand through his hair. “Perfect.”

He winks and gives her a sly smirk before stepping out onto the carpet and posing for the cameras.

Y/N watches him take a few pictures, and once he moves on to the second pose position on the carpet, she turns to walk behind the step and repeat. Her arm is quickly grabbed by one of the producers. “You’re up.” He tells her.

“Oh no no no, I’m not walking the carpet.” Y/N insists.

“Are you nominated?” She nods, a slight panic on her expression. Y/N was a behind the scenes person, she didn’t step in front of the camera. “Then you walk the carpet.” He nudges her forward, and she finds herself standing on the first mark, posing awkwardly for the camera.

A few steps away, Harry’s gaze is traveling from camera to camera, out of the corner of his eye, he sees Y/N posing, he also sees the panic on her face. He quickly backtracks, coming up beside her and placing his hand on the small of her back.

“You okay?” He whispers softly.

“I didn’t know they were going to make me do the carpet…” She whispers nervously.

Harry keeps his hand on the small of her back, his fingers moving along the skin gently to soothe her. “I know, I know. But you’ve got this, I’m right here with you, we’re going to do this together, this is our night.”

She nods, feeling more comfortable with Harry by her side. The two pose together as they move down the carpet. Harry was completely in tune with Y/N’s emotions, and any time he’d feel her start to stiffen up or get nervous, he would whisper a joke or silly comment in her ear to loosen her up.

The photographers went crazy observing the chemistry between the two of them. Harry was aware what would be printed about them, and the status of their relationship, but he didn’t care. All that mattered to him in that moment was that nothing ruined this night for Y/N.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles headcanon #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fiction #harry edward styles #harry styles fan fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x you #harry styles y/n #harry styles blurb #harry styles x fem! reader

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dduane · 6 months

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Salutations and good wishes to you. I am an Indie Author seeking to go Pro. Some good advice and guidance might help minimise the mountain of my anxiety about doing this. I know you got your start with fanfiction, but did you find a publisher/agent through that door? [lots sneer at these days. Still] How many rejections did you suffer before you found your place in the literary world? Thanks for your time and sorry for bothering you <3

Hi there! And don't sweat it: this is no bother.

I have to apologize in advance, because my own career arc isn't likely to serve as much of a good example. In terms of how I got into this business, I'm a serious outlier.

Quickest and easiest to discuss: my agent and I got together after my first book was already bought and published. (Which back in the day was seen as a good enough way to go forward, and then still entirely possible.) He was recommended to me by one of my editors, as—like me—he was just getting started in the business: a likely-looking newcomer then scouting new talent. We met up and chatted, and it seemed to both of us that we'd be a good fit for each other. After forty-odd years of working together, we still are.

About the fanfic: (Adding a cut here so as not to carpet people's dashes with wall-to-wall text...)

What writing all that fic did for me—from about age sixteen onwards—was give me a whole lot of practice in getting the initial garbage associated with a story written and out of the way. Best to admit it here: we all have plenty of crap writing in us. And yeah, even long-term professional writers do. Whether you're at the beginning of your career or right in the middle of it, this is what "zero drafts" are for. You tell yourself the story, first time out... and routinely at this stage a lot of what proves to be unusable stuff emerges, and can be discarded in rewrite. (Of course crap writing can also emerge without warning in the later stages of a project, but there are many reasons for that, all beyond the scope of this discussion.) And you learn even more from reworking the material after you've gotten rid of the dross.

During the period when I was executing what might have been, oh, half a million words of fanfic—Trek originally, and then LoTR—and while reading a whole lot of everything, as I'd been doing since I was first allowed to go raid the town library by myself at age eight—I learned a fair amount about writing without realizing it. Some of it was simply about writing inside a set of rules. (Which I hadn't been doing previously: between eight and sixteen I was writing original fiction, mostly fairy tales.) Naturally in fanfic you have to obey the laws of whatever universe you're working in... or even if you wind up flouting them consciously, you do have to be conscious of them. But this work also led me to something that I hadn't really spent a lot of time thinking about: the concept that fiction writing as a whole had rules. I realized I'd better find out what those were.

The best stuff I found out during this period was what I picked up by direct example from other writers, whom I'd immediately start imitating and then sort of leave by the wayside when I found others I liked better; at which point I'd start imitating them. (This being a great way to learn and hone new skills, and to start getting a sense of what a writer's "voice" is and can come to mean. I think every writer does this, to some extent: because it's really, really tough to learn how to write without reading. And the more extensively the better.)

I have to emphasize here, BTW, that the fanfic that came out of me as I started slogging up this learning curve was all almost uniformly terrible. All of it, mercifully, along with my earliest original fiction, is gone now: long since burnt, shredded, composted under many layers of time. Trust me, it's just as well. Gah was it awful! Nobody else ever saw the stuff, for which I thank great Thoth every time I think about it. ...What's interesting, too, in its way, was that I didn't even know that what I was doing was fan fiction. I had as yet no contact with any kind of organized fandom, and it would be a long time yet before "online" was invented. I was working in utter isolation, unaware that anybody else might have been doing the same thing. (And it's difficult to describe the sense of astonishment and joy that hit me the first time I went to an SF convention, saw fanzines for the first time, and found out that I was not alone. All unsuspecting, I'd stumbled onto one of my tribes.)

But somewhere along the line, as the years went by—as I finished high school and went to college, and then from there to nursing school, and graduated and started working as a psychiatric nurse, and kept on writing—at some point, as I started writing original fiction again, as well as fanfic, the quality of the output began to improve. The combination of constant practice and voracious reading of better writers outside my chosen genre was slowly having an effect. Trusted friends who saw this later material started saying, "This isn't bad, you should try to get it published!" But since none of these folks were writers, I didn't pay too much attention to their opinions.

I did pay attention, though, when my good friend and mentor David Gerrold said something similar on reading my first novel in 1976. And when that was bought by the first publisher who read it, I had to admit he might have had something there.

This too, though, is unfortunately also a way I'm an outlier: I haven't had a lot of rejection. (Even in my TV work, where rejection is pretty much the rule rather than the exception.) Speaking very generally, just about anyone I've pitched something to in the prose market has bought it—or if they didn't like the idea I came in with, they've immediately said "But would you like to do this instead?" And often enough, what they've offered or suggested has been something that sounded like fun. That's how I wound up doing the Star Trek: Rihannsu books, for example: they were "instead of" a Romulan dictionary. Paramount essentially ringfenced an entire AU-area of Trek and gave it to me to play in, which struck me at the time as amazing. And continues to do so.

Now all this may make me sound almost unfairly lucky. But things do tend, slowly or quickly, to balance out. Over time the universe has made up for its relative kindness at the rejection end of things by making sure I knew plenty about the non-rejection forms of writer-career pain: projects from which I was not rejected but which went terribly wrong (wheels come off a huge deal just before signing, promised actors or directors fail to materialize...), projects where I did the work but didn’t get paid, or where I was brought on board and then got fired/ghosted unreasonably or for no reason at all, or sometimes (mortifyingly) for quite good reason. And let's not forget how, as what could seem a very pointed shot across my bow when my career-vessel was just pulling out of port, half the print run of that very-much-buzzed-about debut novel wound up being pulped in the warehouse because another, far better-established writer's new book needed the pallet space that mine had been taking up. (insert rueful smile here) Believe me, entropy is running, and will catch up with you one way or another. So make yourself as ready for it as you can.

I don't mean to increase your anxiety. Yet that said: you're preparing to enter a business in which, for a freelancer, at least some level of anxiety is more or less part of the basic ground of being. You are going to have to develop ways of dealing with the everyday forms of that to keep it from routinely derailing your work.

I find it helps a little if you can come to consider this as a modern form of Going On An Adventure. Good things will happen; bad things will happen; and all of these will be in service of building your career. Think of yourself as being on a quest.

Your job now becomes the business of suiting up with the best equipment and advice you can find (ideally not from outliers like me). The web is full of useful pages on subjects such as how to query and how to find an agent.

Here are links to some.

Compare these resources one against another to see how their different kinds of advice seem to stack up, and which ones are the most congenial for you.

Then use this data to start drawing your personal roadmap across the terrain. Get as clear as you can in your own mind about what you're trying to get out of being in this business: what kind of writing you want to do and what results you want to produce. Then set out, redrawing your road map as necessary as you keep moving forward through the new terrain.

And I wish you good fortune on the journey! (Because luck, as you can see from the above, can definitely be part of this... but fortune favors the prepared.)

Meanwhile, get out there and have a blast. :)

#writing #writing advice #fanfic #rejection

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callmelittlesunshinefics · 5 months

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Dancing On My Own (Gambit X Reader, Part One)

Alrighty folks, this was meant to be a quick fluffy one shot that keeps getting longer and more angsty and has been sitting in my drafts for entirely too long now. Still very much a WIP that will be continued this week or next, PG13 for the time being with potential to take a turn for spicy down the line :)

A/N: Some quick background, the reader (Y/N in fic, described with she/her pronouns) is based off of an OC I tend to pull out pretty frequently. Half human, half angel, displaced from their home universe and dropped into this one (in which Lucifer, the tv show, is also cannon because why not maybe do a crossover down the line?). Gambit x Reader is the main ship we're sailing towards, but there's definitely some Logan x Reader if you squint. OH and last last thing, there's a party and I'm shamelessly linking the dress I had in mind for the reader here.

gif credit :) : @counterspelling

Dropping below a read more, don't be shy, come say hi when you're done reading! :)

“‘Stay for the summer!’ they said, ‘quiet and relaxing’ they said!” You throw the words you were told back at Jubilee who looks back at you completely unfazed as you continue untangling string lights to hang in the garden.

“Honestly Y/N if you had stopped for two seconds to think about who was telling you that, you probably would’ve gone back to LA.”

She was completely right, of course. You showed up to Xavier’s school not a mutant, not fully human either, and just looking for a place on the east coast to stay. Your uncle Lucifer made a few calls, found a friend willing to host a universe-displaced nephilim, and the rest was history. You might not be a mutant, but you were a partial human with powers you couldn’t always understand, and even other angels in this universe weren’t always able to help. Charles met and understood you quicker than anyone you’ve ever encountered in this universe or the next, so when you were asked to extend your stay and take on some guardian duties over the summer you were happy enough to agree.

“Jean is the one who told you it would be relaxing, and Jean’s idea of relaxing is staying at a constant level 8 of activity.”

“How is that not like the school year?” You rolled your eyes, dropping the lights.

“Well during the school year she bounces between a 9 and 10, reserving 7s and 8s for the weekend. I can make you a diagram or something if you need it.”

“I’m going to need a lot more than that by the time we’re done here.”

“Maybe Gambit can help you with that?” Remy had sauntered over from the basketball court, at least that’s what you assumed given his current state of undress.

“Unless you’re here to help decorate, I don’t think so handsome. If Jean catches us behind schedule the phoenix might make a reappearance…” You looked around and took a deep breath, realizing that other than the lights, everything looked pretty set. There was a reasonable sized clearing in the garden and Jean had hired a company to install a temporary dance floor. Chairs and tables were scattered around picnic style, and Jubilee had done an amazing job of setting up the bar despite being the only one unable to drink, legally.

“I think it’s actually just the lights,” Jubilee nodded to the messy pile at your feet, “And I think Gambit would be more help with that than me anyway, so?”

“Go ahead,” you nodded smiling and she ran over to hug you, “And if you go to the mall, bring me back a pretzel!!!” You yelled after her knowing it was useless, she’d bring you a pretzel whether she heard you or not.

“Avoiding me, chere?” Gambit eyed you with his usual flirtatious undertone that you couldn’t make heads or tails of.

“In fact, I am. Grab that end?” You handed him the lights as he waited for an explanation, “Okay, I’m going to sit in the tree, I just need you to feed me the lights as we move. Ready?” You didn’t give him a chance to answer, disappearing and reappearing in the branch just above his head.

Gambit stared back troubled and suspicious, so you nodded and gave him the sarcastic, albeit not entirely untrue, answer he was waiting for, “Oh Remy my attraction to you is just so strong and all consuming that I had to avoid you in order to get anything done at all. Every second I can’t throw myself at you is torture. Et cetera, et cetera, please start passing me the lights so I can go inside and shower.”

He laughed and finally did as you said, “You know if you wanted ol’Gambit all you had to do was ask.”

The two of you worked in a comfortable silence passing the lights through the trees. Just as you finished wrapping the last string, your footing slipped and you let out a quick yelp before bracing yourself for a fall that never came.

“I never would have guessed angels could be so clumsy.”

“If we weren’t you’d be short of a pickup line. Tell me honestly, how many times have you asked a lady if she fell from heaven?” Remy laughed and began walking away with you still in his arms.

“Not as many as you think, chere. Are we about done out here?”

You looked around and nodded, “Finally, yes. It was a good catch by the way, but I think I can walk on my own.”

Placing you back on the ground, the two of you walked towards the mansion in another comfortable silence. Remy was probably tied with Jubilee as your closest friend in the school. You could remember the first day you arrived, how he couldn’t stop watching you. It wasn’t until later that same night, you were out in the garden and could still sense him watching you, that you decided to do something about it. You walked right up to him, introduced yourself, and asked him to kindly explain why he was staring at you like he’s seeing a ghost.

It turned out the boy who grew up being told he was a demon had a lot of mixed feelings discovering angels and demons were not only real, but one of them was living under his roof. Remy felt a bit silly admitting it to you, but he owed you an honest answer when you confronted him so directly. And when he told you what people had said about him, what he suspected his own parents must have thought of him, your heart broke. You told him stories of all the demons and monsters you’ve encountered, and reassured him that he didn’t come close to fitting the bill.

“What’s on your mind, Remy?” There was quiet and then there was Quiet. You were still pretty new, but you knew well enough when something was bothering him.

“Are you heading back?” You stopped short, and he stopped to face you.

“Back where, Rem?”

“Anywhere that’s not here.” He was facing you but he wouldn’t quite look at you, as if he didn’t actually want to hear the answer.

You took a deep breath, “The honest answer is that I don’t know. I don’t really feel like LA is where I belong, but I’m not a mutant or a gifted youngster either. I mean, I’m not even from this u-”

“Okay, okay.” Gambit interrupted you with a hug, correctly sensing an impending panic attack from you, “Gambit just worried he won’t get to see you s’all.”

You took a deep breath, sighing into the hug, “Well that’s really stupid.” He pulled back to look at you, full of confusion. “It’s really stupid because if I were going anywhere you’d be the first person I tell, and because it takes me about 5 seconds flat to get anywhere. I’d be back before you even knew I was gone.”

You smiled wistfully and he returned it, “I’d know.”

The two of you continued heading in and you finally felt brave enough to ask the question you’ve really been wanting to ask.

“Well, I have to head up and start getting ready for tonight. What about you, getting ready for your date?” Of course, you weren’t sure he actually had one, but that was as direct as you could bring yourself to be.

“Suppose I should be doing the same. Save Gambit a dance?” He kissed your hand and walked away, leaving you flustered and confused. You immediately pulled out your phone.

Y/N: okay so i said ‘gotta go get ready! what about you, getting ready for your date?’ and he said ‘suppose i should do the same’ what do we do with that??

JB: does he think you have a date??

Y/N: SHOULD i have a date???

JB: yeah, one of you should have asked the other out by now

You dropped your phone on your bed, having finally made it to your room after a flurry of texts. Complicated feelings for your maybe best friend aside, it was still important to you to be slightly better than presentable tonight.

Tonight was the first time all summer the adults of the mansion could relax and have a good time, and some non-residential mutants would also be joining the mix. You had never really been to anything so strictly social with the gang, and you didn’t take your invitation lightly.

It wasn’t exactly formal, but Jubilee was able to confirm your suspicion that it wasn’t exactly casual either. You showered, taking more time than usual to exfoliate and moisturize, trying to pamper yourself into relaxing and getting excited for the night ahead, trying to ignore Remy’s words from earlier bouncing around your head.

Two simple words that have had you in a tailspin since he said them so casually. ‘I’d know.’

The trouble maker in you wanted to test him on it, and you did a quick assessment of yourself to see if you could. Fresh out of the shower but mostly dressed, you were presentable. Should you take a quick trip overseas, hop over to France for some wine for tonight and back in a blink? You closed your eyes and heard a knock on your door just as you were about to take off.

You opened your door more suspicious than you’d care to admit, suddenly paranoid that Gambit sniffed you out, but you were met with Jubilee instead, weighed down with garment and shopping bags from the mall.

“You never answered me! I have your pretzel and you promised we’d do makeup together so-“ it was all the preamble she gave before forcing the pretzel on you and making herself at home in your room.

“I was showering! And I really thought you were going to be gone longer?”

“I just had to pick up some stuff I ordered for tonight, plus giving you and Gambit some time to flirt didn’t seem like a bad thing.”

You rolled your eyes, “We have banter, definitely, but I’m not sure I’d call it flirting. He flirts with everyone.”

“So you realize that what he does with you is different?” She turns it on you but you’ve heard it before.

“Yes, different as in he’s not interested!”

Jubilee made a sound of frustration before giving up and asking for help with contour. You dropped the subject and fell back into your usual routine, an easy friendship that reminded you more of sisters than friends. You showed up at the mansion looking for a place to stay while you visited old haunts, and you made a friend in Jubilee who was willing to venture into those places with you, even if it meant confronting ghosts.

“Lucky for you I think I found the perfect way to test his level of interest. You didn’t pick out what you’re wearing yet, did you?”

“Well yeah, I was just going to wear-” You started motioning to the dress you picked for tonight, but Jubilee was moving and cutting you off before you even finished.

“Okay so scrap that, I grabbed something for you at the mall,” she reached for one of the garment bags she had laid across your bed, “and if this doesn’t get a reaction out of him, I’m at a loss. What do you think?”

She unzipped the bag and your eyebrows flew up so fast you wondered if they were still there. It was hot pink, sequined, and most noticeably, short and backless. You reached out to touch it and couldn’t deny how beautiful it was. Sure, the pink was a lot and it showed more skin than you were strictly comfortable with, but you couldn’t deny that the striped details of the sequins were gorgeous, or that the dress would hug and accentuate your curves…dangerously.

“Now tell me what’s really going on because there’s no way you were able to afford this dress.”

Jubilee snorted, “You got me, it comes with a letter.” She handed you a small envelope you promptly opened and started reading.

‘Your young friend told me you planned to attend a party wearing some frumpy thing off a rack and that’s simply unacceptable for my niece, I have a reputation to uphold, Y/N ;) Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! Sincerely, your Fairy DevilFather (p.s. TRY to have fun?)’

“Lucifer intervened to send me a dress?? How did you two even contact each other?”

“I answered your phone once when he called while you were showering. We really hit it off, he actually sent me one too!” She excitedly pulled out another bag and showed you an equally gorgeous, albeit much more modest dress. Part of you wanted to argue, but another part of you realized how exciting this was for your friend and you weren’t about to let her down when she was waiting for you to join her excitement.

“I think we might be best dressed tonight?” You smirked and she whooped, celebrating her victory.

“Oh I’m ready, maybe everyone will finally accept the fact that I’m 20 and stop treating me like I’m still 15.”

You knew it was a sore point for her, but you still smiled. The way all of the x-men treated Jubilee as their adopted child was something that endlessly warmed your heart, even if it frustrated your friend. The two of you took your time helping each other get your hair and makeup perfect before donning your dresses and leaving your bedroom, having already started to hear the arrival of a few guests and the slight murmur of conversation.

You stopped just short of the stairs, turning to face Jubilee, “Don’t they say ‘fashionably late’ is a good thing?” Your anxiety was starting to get the best of you, wearing such a risque dress to attend a party with lots of new faces.

“I think we’ve already reached fashionably late, babe, if we wait any longer they’ll think something is wrong.” You took a deep breath and started to make your way down the stairs. The mansion was empty, signalling that everyone else had already made their way out to the garden.

The sun was just beginning to set when the two of you arrived to find the party already in full swing. Jean and Scott were dancing, Logan and Hank sharing a drink by the bar, and around 20 faces you had never seen interspersed with the rest of the team. You heard a low wolf whistle behind you and felt a hand on your lower back.

“Breaking hearts tonight, chere?” Remy was on you before you could even turn to look at the sound.

“If I’m lucky.” You shrugged.

“Think I have enough of that for the both of us.” He winked and you tried and failed to suppress a snort that only made him grin wider.

You turned to say something to Jubilee and your eyes narrowed when you realized the little traitor had run over to greet her friends, leaving you and Gambit alone. She looked your way and winked as you openly glared at her.

“Well it looks like I’ve been ditched so I’ll need to borrow some of it.” You grimaced in the direction of the crowd, not needing to elaborate.

“All yours, chere.” He offered you his arm and you accepted, making your way into the party and jumping right into a flurry of introductions, hugs and handshakes that Remy led you through, guiding you away when it was time to move on.

It seemed innocent enough but you couldn’t stop focusing on the fact that Remy’s hands never left you. Whether it was an arm wrapped protectively around your waist or his hand on your exposed lower back, lazily tracing shapes you couldn’t make out, it was becoming increasingly distracting. He introduced you to Kurt and you only caught 30% of the conversation, too distracted by Remy’s hand tracing the curve of the dip at the back of your dress. You were relieved when Remy excused the two of you to go grab a drink.

“Admit it, not as bad as you thought.” Gambit smirked at you, leading you to a table where Logan and Jubilee were catching up.

You rolled your eyes, “I never thought it would be bad, I just,” You took a deep breath, “I don’t know, I guess I was worried I wouldn’t fit in here, or that everyone would be wondering why I’m even here but too polite to say anything.”

Logan and Jubilee both looked in your direction, hearing the tail end of your conversation that you didn’t bother hiding from them. Logan very openly looked you up and down before chuckling and taking a sip of what you suspected to be whiskey.

“No one’s kicking you out of here looking like that, that’s for sure.” It was maybe the first time the wolverine had ever given you a compliment and you blushed.

“You clean up rather nicely yourself, Logan.”

“Then why are you spending all night with the cajun instead of talking to me?” You were surprised but did your best to cover it up, meanwhile Jubilee was fighting off a laugh herself by taking a sip of her drink.

“Because the cajun knows how a lady should be treated.” Gambit grumbled, leveling Logan with a look before departing briefly to get the both of you drinks.

“Does he?” Logan asked you while you sat to join them, shooting him a quizzical look before he continued, “Know how to treat a lady?”

“How much have you had, Logan?” You asked, eyeing his drink.

“Not that much, darlin’. Answer the question.” If there was one thing you loved about Logan it was his lack of bullshit, and judging by the look on Jubilee’s face as she waited for your answer, right now it was probably her favorite thing about him too,

“He’s been a perfect gentleman, but we’re just friends.” You tried to say it in a way that wouldn’t reveal how much that bothered you, but both of them knew better. Gambit returned a second later with your drinks and you only got two sips in before Logan insisted on a round of shots.

One round turned into two, turned into three, turned into…you lost count. Jubilee was swaying happily in her seat, having convinced the two men to let her join in with half shots somewhere around round three. Everyone’s judgement was impaired by that point, but she made a great argument about drinking for the first at home where she’s safe or something else you couldn’t remember anymore in your happily inebriated state.

A song came on and you gasped, turning towards the dancefloor and excitedly announcing your love for the song. What it was called? You couldn’t remember if your life depended on it, but you needed to dance. You locked eyes with Remy who smiled but shifted his eyes away awkwardly, causing you to quickly deflate.

“Have you even had a dance yet tonight, Y/N?” Logan asked you suspiciously.

“Not yet.” You pouted, considering heading out on your own, dance partner be damned.

“Knows how to treat a lady my ass.” Logan grumbled in Gambit’s direction, shooting a glare at him before getting up and begrudgingly but kindly offering you his hand.

“Oh. my. GOD.” Jubilee squealed, far too gone to contain her excitement at the drama, as she would say.

You beamed at Logan, accepting his hand and making a run for the dance floor, pulling him along behind you.

“That crazy cajun might try to take my head off later for this.” Logan grumbled, settling his arms at your waist while you threw yours around his neck, getting closer than was strictly necessary so the two of you could continue your talk while dancing. Your eyes shifted over to where you just left your friends and you felt a stabbing pain in your chest when you looked for Remy just to see he had also made his way over to the dance floor, with Rogue.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Logan.” Your eyes were starting to tear up and you looked up trying to stop it as Logan became worried, turning to figure out what made you so upset. His eyes landed on Gambit and he growled, holding you a little closer as he actively tried to calm down.

“I’ll kill him.”

“You won’t.” You laughed, “He’s allowed to be with whoever he wants.”

“Yeah, but he’s not allowed to follow you around all night like a lovesick puppy just to ditch you when he catches another scent.”

You smiled sadly, “He was being a good friend earlier, that’s it.”

Logan pulled you closer and leaned down to whisper in your ear, “I watched his hands stray all over you, Y/N,” He touched your bare back to emphasize his point, “He’s not a friend, he’s a coward.” You couldn’t take it anymore and hugged Logan, hiding your face in his chest to let a few tears escape, hoping you would feel a bit better if you could get some of your distress out.

“Might have to kill em for making you cry.” Logan grumbled and you laughed, smiling up at him despite yourself.

“Believe it or not you’re helping enough like this.” The two of you continued dancing and Logan’s discomfort wasn’t wasted on you, but he’d be damned if he let the two of you leave that dance floor before Gambit and Rogue. He was making a point.

The music began to slow down and Rogue and Gambit finally went their separate ways. You watched as Remy found Jubilee again and made their way back over to the table, you turned to Logan.

“Think we should head back?” He looked behind you and shook his head.

“We finally get a song that’s more my speed and you want to leave?” He shook his head no and pulled you closer, making you laugh and rest your head on his chest as the two of you swayed lazily.

“Thank you, Logan. It’s not how I expected the night to go but I wouldn’t have gotten through it without you.”

“Dancing with you looking like that isn’t exactly a punishment.” He snarked and you chuckled.

“Mind if I cut in?” You looked up to meet red eyes, Remy looking between you and Logan harshly before addressing you again more quietly, “Didn’t Gambit ask you to save him a dance?��

You hesitated and Logan took that as his cue, “Bad timing cajun, Y/N just said she was getting dizzy, we’re heading back to the table.” Logan put his arm around you and lead you out of there, leaving Gambit to grumble and trail the two of you back.

Jean had joined Jubilee to rest and eyed the three of you quizzically as you made your return.

“Y/N!! I found out that shots of vodka with cranberry juice is amazing, look!” She held out a shot for you and you grabbed it and threw it back before Logan and Remy could even finish their protests.

“Chere! Didn’t you say you were dizzy?” Gambit took the shot glass out of your hand, leading you to a chair.

“From the dancing, Rem! I definitely haven’t had enough to drink yet.”

Jubilee whooped and passed you another shot, clinking it to her own before you both threw them back. Jean looked at you even more confused and you tapped your temple with a wink, an agreed upon gesture inviting her to read your mind.

“Rough night but I promise everything is okay, just need to drown my sorrows a little with you guys. Logan’s been doing his best.”

You heard Jean’s response in your head, “Fair enough. I’ve been cutting Jubilee’s shots with a lot of cranberry juice. Seriously, a LOT.”

You struggled to mask your laugh, “As I was saying, definitely not enough to drink, I’m gonna go-“ You stood and made your way to the bar on your own before anyone else could say anything, but you could feel a few sets of eyes watching you leave.

Someone had been manning the bar, but as the night wore on and the guests dwindled, those of you remaining were left to fend for yourself. You assessed your options and reached for the gin, giving that a generous pour before adding sprite, a splash of cranberry juice, and a lime wedge before you can talk yourself out of it.

“That looks amazing, can you make me one too?” Jubilee had appeared at your side and you smiled before making her a much more restrained version of yours. “Now I need you to tell me eeeeevery detail of you and Wolvie dancing I mean I neeeever-“

“To be clear,” you interrupted, sipping at your drink, “It was a pity save when it became painfully obvious Remy wasn’t going to ask.”

“After spending literally all night following you around and basically growling at anyone that tried to get near you, what’s up with that??” She made a good point but you weren’t sure what she meant by that first part.

“Pause, rewind, what are you talking about ‘basically growling’?”

“You seriously didn’t realize how handsy he got with you when Kurt started getting friendly?”

You realized you were drunk when you couldn’t stop the words from coming out of your mouth, “I was so distracted by him being handsy I didn’t even hear whatever Kurt was saying to make the connection.”

Jubilee nearly spat her drink in your face and she started smacking you excitedly, “Can you please please go tell him that??”

“But then he didn’t ask me to dance!! He pointedly looked away!!”

“So Logan? What happened there?” You were starting to suspect your friend wasn’t nearly as inebriated as you thought, her tone sounding surprisingly sharp shifting gears.

“I really don’t think there’s anything more than his mother-hen instincts going on there.”

Her eyes rolled and she shrugged, “I’d agree if it was just one dance, but-“

“Again, pretty sure that was to save me from being zeroed in on Gambit’s dance with Rogue..”

She didn’t have a response for that one and she simply clinked your drink before you both took generous sips, “Don’t tell Jean.” You whispered as you topped both of your glasses off before heading back to the group.

Jean had left to track down Scott who was mingling in the small groups that remained, some still dancing but most everyone else was doing the same as your small group. Jubilee bounced into the seat next to Logan and you drifted a beat too long before sitting next to Gambit. The silence that stretched between the two of you was no longer as comfortable as it was earlier, so you broke and piped up first.

“I almost tested you earlier, you know.”

“Almost?” Remy squinted at you, “Been testing me all night, chere.”

You narrowed your eyes back but decided not to engage, continuing your thought instead, “When you said you’d know if I left?” His playful glare dropped and he waited on your next words, “Just a quick trip before the party but still, decided against it.”

Remy chewed on what you were saying and not saying, wondering how the night had gotten so far away from him. Everything started out better than he expected, getting to show you around the party, not letting you too far out of sight in that dress, and then the hesitation. His own doubt sneaking in, reminding him that Y/N is quite literally an angel, he knew her place in the world, but his? He looked over at you waiting for a response and decided that didn’t matter right now.

“Still have sea legs or are you about ready for that dance, chere?” He didn’t leave you much room to answer, already standing with his arm extended.

“You know I literally just sat back down, right?” He rolled his eyes at you, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your feet alongside him. Your night was clearly nowhere near over and you gave in, letting Remy lead you back onto the dance floor and into his arms.

#gambit x reader #remy lebeau x reader #xmen #x men the animated series #x men 97 #remy lebeau #gambit #gambit xmen #light angst #in which reader and gambit are both complete idiots #but we love them anyway #tw drinking

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avernusreject · 10 months

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Warning ya'll this is gonna be a long post. But please join my descent into insanity, as I deep dive into the vague wormhole that is the durge betrayal pre bg3 timeline.

Before we start, it’ll help if you have context around the faerun calendar. There are twelve months in total, each having exactly 30 days. Additionally, weeks don’t exist in faerun. Rather months get broken down into chunks of time called tendays, which you guessed is literally just ten days. If that was too straight forward for you, don’t worry, they add in five extra days to the calendar that fall outside of the months (ngl I still have no idea where these are located) to make the full year 365 days.

At the beginning of the game, the nautiloid crash occurs at 20 Eleasis. Which means, the game starts in the middle of summer. Obviously, the way you play the game is going to influence the speed of events, but for my playthrough I reached moonrise towers around 12 elient (total time being 22 days). When you get to moonrise, in Bathazar’s chamber you can find his journal that explains that Kressa (the crazy necromancer chick) managed to keep durge alive. This entry is dated “two tenday ago”. But in game, that makes no sense because we know that the nautiloid should have crashed around that point. So either Balthazar doesn’t understand how the Faerun calendar works (I mean same, my guy) or we have to change our frame of reference. I think its more likely that the implied frame of reference is the start of the game, 20 Eleasis (since the developers can’t control how fast the player goes).

If true, durge was saved by Kressa around 1 Eleasis. Her vivisections took place after this in the following days. However, durge is taken away before the end of the following tendays (at least before 10 Eleasis).

Now when you talk to Kressa in the basement of moonrise, she states that she found durge only hours after they had been given the tadpole.

In the fight with Orin, she states that when she attacked durge she carved out a hole for the worm (ignore the Half-Elf part, that's just from the moment Orin turns into durge during the pre-fight convo).

The part that we're missing is when specifically the tadpole was inserted into durge. But given how the game describes just how utterly fucked durge was, there's a high likelyhood that the tadpole was given to durge moments after their fight. Which if true, places Orin's betrayal at 1 Eleasis. Giving us twenty days till the start of the game.

The piece that threw me for a bit was this piece of the narrator's dialogue when durge examines the pod, stating that durge had no idea how much time had passed.

But the blood in the pod is still fresh enough that Astarion is able to ID it as durge & in another dialogue choice if you examine the blood further the narrator states the blood hasn't been there long enough to rot.

I think this dialogue is more explaining that durge is actively being tortured by Kressa so time feels unending (kressa being the one who put them in the pod to begin with).

I've seen in other posts that Gortash's draft memoir explains that Orin's betrayal occurred during or just around the crowning of the brain (I don't have a screenshot of that unfortunately). But we have to take that with a grain of salt because Gortash is the definition of an unreliable narrator.

Personally, I don't think he's lying though. Orin's betrayal occurred in moonrise and there's really no other reason that Orin and durge would be in moonrise that the game has provided. Not to mention, the warden explains the last time that durge was in moonrise, they never left.

I don't think durge came to moonrise more then once given the fact that the warden, who had clearly been there a while, had no clue who they were. I find it hard to believe their identity would be kept under wraps had they been at moonrise multiple times. Employees have to gossip about something.

I think its likely that Ketheric, Gortash, and Durge tamed the brain in the days leading up to 1 Eleasis (like ~20 to 30 Flamerule).

In summary, the dead three had a Phineas and Ferb summer vacation by deciding to create the cult of the absolute.

And yes if you are wondering this is how I look now.

#the durge timeline makes me want to scream sometimes #the dark urge #durge #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #enver gortash #orin #kressa bonedaughter #balthazar #durgetash

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inky125 · 6 days

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Mary Linton and Jack Marston meeting in 1922

Okay but these are just my headcanons for the very improbable scenario that they end up bumping into each other in the future. / My headcanons for what they would do with their lives after the events of rdr/rdr2

(I'm going to explain them under the cut)

Okay so, starting with Jack:

I want to believe Jack lived a more or less normal life after killing Ross, successfully getting away with this one (1) murder, and having that as a skeleton in his closet. Not finding peace really, so the whole revenge thing doesn't fix his miserable life but he can go on to try to do something with his life. Gunslinging doesn't really have a place anymore here.

When the US joined WWI I know that boy DID NOT join the US Army, he would NEVER join the group that killed his dad, or make the same mistake as him and make a deal with the government. He would rather be jailed for dodging the draft, what will they do, threaten him with what? He has nothing to live for really, so they can't make him. I don't think he cares much if he gets shot (he has a like saying as much in rdr when he duels Ross).

After the whole jail thing he'd go back to a more or less normal life, I'd guess he would have to have a regular job and write whenever he's able (I want to believe that one Easter egg in GTA is canon...it is to me...), but I don't think he'd be able to make a living just from writing.

As for Mary, I always wondered why Mary was dressed the way she was during the credits cut scene in Rdr2. Because I'm guessing it takes place in 1907 (given that most cut scenes appear to happen at the same time more or less than the epilogue). But I wondered why Mary was dressing in black; I mean, during the Victorian era there were very specific mourning traditions, especially for women. Wearing black was pretty much a part of a social thing, you'd publicly mourn. The extension of your mourning would depend on who died and what was your relationship with them.

And here is the thing, Arthur had died 8 years ago by then, we could assume Mary had found out shortly after of his dead because newspapers in the Rdr2 universe love to brag whenever law enforcement/Pinkertons kill renown outlaws. (Even Arthur and Hosea get mentioned years later in some sort of article in 1907 too). And additionally, we know that Mary kept up with how the gang, especially Arthur, was doing through the news on the newspapers. So again, it wouldn't be crazy to assume she knew about Arthur's death back in 1899.

So then, why is she wearing a black dress to visit his grave in 1907?. Black is the color of mourning, but as far as I am aware (and correct me if I'm wrong) it was not required to visit a grave back in the day. So I like to headcanon Mary mourning Arthur like a widow, because widows would have to wear their black weeds for 2 years (there were different periods of mourning, for instance Mary's clothes could be classified under the 'half-mourning' type, meaning there has been at least 6 months since her loved one passed away, meaning she could now wear some jewelry, other colours, ect.

But here is a little extra, Queen Victoria popularized among some women the practice to never abandon their period of half mourning, and especially, keep wearing black the rest of their lives even if they move on, as a sign of love for their dead husband.

Mary and Arthur never got married, but I like to think Mary lived as a widow for him. Continuing with her life as normal, of course, but always having that bittersweet ache in her heart, dressing in black out of respect and love for him and the life they couldn't have. Even if she had wanted to move on from him after she realized they couldn't be together as Arthur wouldn't leave the gang, I think she would have folded if Arthur had gone after her (I mean she did re-initiate contact after they were supposed to never speak again), and I think she was still preparing herself emotionally when she heard the news that Arthur was dead, ironically not moving on from him.

She didn't remarry, Jamie made good money and maintained her, Mary knew the kind of life she didn't want and she could be respectable and old as a widow. Plus marrying someone new at her age would be a titanic task.

I think Mary kept her mother's brooch Arthur returned for her as her reminder of him, given that she returned the picture and the ring. In fact she's wearing it when she visits Arthur's grave in-game!. So I kept that

It just warms my heart to think of the very few people left who knew about the gang finding each other in usual ways. Maybe next time I'd do Sadie or Charles. I'm just a sucker for this kind of things

#mary linton #jack marston #rdr2 spoilers #rdr spoilers #fanart #marthur #my art inky125 #arthur morgan #rdr headcanons #mary gillis #red dead redemption 2

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youunravelme · 7 months

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okay but how does mat propose??? (like a pt. 2 follow up to the wedding cake fic)

omg omg omg a proposal request!! let it be known, i have never been engaged, BUT all my friends got engaged/married last year so i think i'm uniquely qualified (edit: this was started in 2023, you know, when this request was sent. once again, my b). (though this might just turn into my dream proposal bc i'm in love with him).

for those of you who wanna check the part 1 of the wedding cake fic, here it is!

another edit: i wrote this to distract myself from my absolute disdain at scott mayfield.

carry on.

his hands were sweating all day.

which was weird, considering it was february.

but it wasn't weird, given what he had planned. he didn't know if he wanted to scream or throw up. the idea of you becoming his wife surely made him giddy, but it was soured with the slight chance that you might say no. he was supposed to propose before the season started up again, but he was plagued with anxious thoughts.

it's not the right time.

i'm not ready yet.

or the worst one: i don't think i'm that serious about you.

which, in hindsight, wouldn't make sense considering you were already living together and have been for quite some time. you wore his jersey to games, you had conversations about starting a family, you texted his mom and sister more than he did. there was no reason for you to say no.

right?

after he chickened out back in september, mat's new plan was to wait until the bye week to propose. he was going to take you on a vacation to conil de la frontera, spain. he had everything booked and ready.

but then he was drafted for the 2024 all star games.

he could see it in your eyes, you were ecstatic for him to be recognized, but when you took a week and a half off of work, you were planning on packing your bathing suit, not taking a short flight to toronto.

you bore the slight disappointment well, smiling and kissing him and hugging him tightly when he got the news. he beamed when he saw you post about it on your instagram.

he couldn't wait any longer to ask you. your reaction to a change in your vacation plans from something warm to canada in the winter solidified what he was anxious about for months.

you loved him, there as no doubt about it.

you were the most selfless human being he knew.

his teammates had been crucial in the planning process, well, at least their wives were. bo, marty, anders, brock, and clutterbuck had been chirping him since the start of the season when they noticed that your left hand was still devoid of a ring.

"what're you waiting for, barzy?" bo asked after a practice one day. "you found a good one, she'd probably wait forever for you, but why're you making her wait?"

mat shrugged at the time, too embarrassed to admit that despite being one of the best players in the league and having millions to his name, he was terrified that it still wouldn't be enough for you. not that you'd ever demanded more from him, you'd taken him as he was and cheered for him even when he was having the shittiest time of his life.

he could give you the moon and still wouldn't feel like it was enough.

so when mat finally told his teammates about his plan in toronto, they immediately communicated to the wives who were closest to you. sydney, grace, and holly took you out to get your nails done while marty, anders, bo, and mat started researching the most romantic places in toronto on anders' laptop just in case you spontaneously went through mat's search history.

the day was planned, the photographer and necessary tickets were booked, he'd propose at the evergreen brick works after texting auston matthews about cool places to visit while he was in town, (he had to clarify that he didn't care about cool bars, and was looking to bring you along).

you'd been talking nonstop on the plane ride to toronto that you didn't even notice mat was quietly stewing. everything had to be perfect.

it was the very least that you deserved.

the first day in toronto, both of you explored the city by going to coffee shops and restaurants recommended by players and their significant others. when you made it back to your hotel room, your feet were aching.

you fell face first into the bed, whining into the comforter. "my feet hurt," you groaned.

mat laughed from his position leaning against the wall. "i told you to wear better shoes," he said.

"i didn't anticipate you dragging me all over toronto today."

"well, that's what we'll be doing tomorrow too, so prepare yourself."

"mat," you whined, finally flipping over so he could see your pretty face again. you had a cute pout on your lips that he wanted to kiss away. "we're on vacation."

"and you've never been in this city before, you should get to see it." he walked over to where you were and grabbed your hands. "c'mon, let's go take a bath and then we can order room service and spend the rest of the night in bed."

you were quick to agree.

the following day was pretty mundane. but wednesday was the cause of mat's stress.

his phone lit up with texts from his teammates, his parents, liana, tito, and ethan, all wishing him a good luck. the two of you woke up early enough to go to a local cafe and grab breakfast before taking the bus to evergreen brick work.

"you okay?" you asked, placing your hand on his knee to keep it from bouncing anymore.

he thanked whatever possessed him to keep the ring box in his coat pocket on the side that wasn't pressed up against you.

"yeah," he smiled. "just ready to get there."

when the two of you hopped off the bus, you slid your hand into his almost immediately. out of habit, mat tucked you into his side, happy to just have you close. it was a little cold outside, but it was like he couldn't feel it because of your proximity.

"mat!" you tugged on his arm and pointed at one of the signs. "they have ice skating here!" you grinned widely up at him and he couldn't help but smile right back. "we should go!"

"we will," he said. "i wanna do this trail first."

you looked at him funny. "you wanna go on a walk?"

he shrugged, tearing his eyes away from you to focus on the signs in front of him. "auston suggested this place."

"you're asking for a lot of suggestions from auston. it's unlike you..."

"there's no need to be suspcious, babe. i know that you wanted to be in a tropical place for vacation, that was the plan and everything, but since we're here, thought we'd make the most of it."

you scrutinized his face for a moment longer before nodding and pulling yourself closer to him.

after you secured another hot coffee to combat the cold, mat started leading you on the trail. while you were ordering, he was coordinating with the photographer to make sure she was in position.

the trail itself wasn't that long, thankfully because mat couldn't get a word out and if it was any longer, he feared you would've caught on that he was incapable of speaking.

you were still talking about work drama when you got to the lookout point. your voice was taken away by the sight of toronto in the background.

you hadn't always been the most observant person ever, you didn't even know he liked you until he told you verbatim when he couldn't take it anymore.

"oh my god, mat," you gasped. you pointed at the skyline in front of you with the hand that wasn't holding your coffee. "look how pretty it is!"

he swallowed and knelt down on one knee while your back was turned. mat took the ring box out of his jacket pocket, doing his best not to drop it despite how much his hands were shaking.

"have you ever seen anything that--" you whipped back around to look for him. he watched as confusion filled your face when you didn't see him standing behind you, but kneeling in front of you.

"oh my god," you whispered, dropping your coffee on the ground so you could cover your mouth with both hands. "mat what--"

"i love you," he said. "i love the way you squeal at every cute baby that comes across your for you page or the way you cry at the drop of a hat. i love how you celebrate everyone around you. you are the brightest thing in my life and if i quit my job tomorrow, i know my life would still be fucking amazing because i'd have you.

"i know that my schedule is hectic, and you could probably find a man better than me, who was more consistent, who wasn't going to play games or have practices on your birthday, who could take you out of the country for a vacation to somewhere warm instead of dragging you with me to an all star game. but i promise you, i will do whatever it takes to give you the best life possible if you'd let me. i wanna grow old and crinkly with you, i want our kids to have the same last name as both of us. i want to be able to point you out in crowds and tell strangers that i somehow managed to convince you to marry me.

"i have never been more terrified in my life than i am right now," he admitted. "but i have never been more certain of anything i want more in my life than you. so will you have me? will you marry me?"

in the middle of his speech, mat didn't realize when he'd started crying, didn't even notice that you were all but sobbing. he just recognized the scent of your perfume when you lunged towards him and kissed him hard on the mouth, your tears mixing with his.

"yes," you mumbled into his mouth. "oh my god, yes."

mat let out a watery laugh and managed to slip the ring on your finger even though his hands were shaking. you pulled him up to stand and immediately wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him close.

you were sniffling as he pulled you in for another kiss.

"i love you,' he whispered against your lips.

"love you more," you smiled back.

#mat barzal #mathew barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine #mathew barzal imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl blurb

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gardenofnoah · 2 months

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it was never ending (pt. 1)

wc: 5.3k (pt. 1 only) tags (whole series): bakugou x reader, oc character death (not reader), grief, healing, found family, getting together, slow (medium?) burn, child rearing, descriptions of pregnancy, morning sickness, friends to lovers, confessions, eventual smut

notes: i've had the idea for this in my drafts for the last 82 years. i blacked out and wrote this whole thing in like 12 hours. fingers crossed for the same motivation demon to visit me in my sleep for part 2.

summary: when the father of your child passes away suddenly, you get by with a little help from your friends (and a really intense Bakugou).

There was a part of you that already knew, as soon as the phone rang. At 7pm, there was no reason to assume it wasn't benign, like your mother calling to confirm what you'd already told her you'd bring to brunch the following weekend.

It wasn't, though. You knew it wouldn't be.

The drive is something that happens to someone else. You see it in flashes. Distantly, you think that it's probably not safe, driving in this state with an infant in the backseat. But you don't really have another option—or at least not one that occurs to you.

A nurse—a young woman, who can't be any older than early twenties—meets you in the lobby. She's practiced in her stoicism. There is no forced smile, no apologies—just a quiet invitation to follow her. She leads you with a hand on your elbow, like she's expecting you, too, to collapse, down a series of hallways that you don't bother to notice. You wonder how long she's been doing this, and what the impact of it might be on someone so young.

A doctor is waiting for you in the room. He immediately launches into a lengthy, medical term-laden explanation of the two hours prior to your arrival. You hear none of it, and you're not even looking at him.

Behind him, a thin sheet covers the body of the father of the child in your arms.

You turn your phone off.

You have to, really. The barrage of well-intentioned but poorly timed (and often poorly worded) texts and calls and emails renders the thing unusable.

The number of days that've passed between today and the hospital are of little consequence to you. You've survived on autopilot for however many have passed but the bone-deep exhaustion you feel has spread deeper still. Through the wall, Kaede cries, but there's nothing left in you to get your body to move. Kaede, named so at her father's request.

She was an angry thing, born with no small amount of indignancy at the act of bringing her earthside, against her will. She was red and raging for the first several months of her life, and while it exhausted you, Takeshi had taken it in stride.

"My darling girl," you'd hear him through the monitor, cooing to your daughter as she pitched a fit for the umpteenth time that night, "it won't always be so bad."

How would you convince her of the truth in that now?

The sound of knuckles against your front door jars you out of your half-consciousness. It seems it's only a courtesy, though, because you hear it open immediately after. It dawns on you that you haven't thought to check if it was locked since you've been home. Regrettable, especially now. Some distant alarm ringing in your mind tells you that should be concerned that someone has just entered your home, but there's a wall up right now. In an effort to keep you safe, your brain has blocked out everything.

Through the wall, a voice coos to your daughter. You recognize it as Mina's, and you let out a quiet breath. You brain loosens its grasp for an instant and relief floods you. You'll get up and thank her, when you can.

There is a chorus of voices, telling you that there is more than one person in your house right now, but in the absence of a threat, your eyes flutter closed. The door to your bedroom opens, and you blink hard at the light that seeps in over the massive body in your doorway.

The door closes just as quickly, and in the darkness, the body moves around the room to the other side of the bed—the empty one. There is a weight—your body dips with it minutely, and then settles again. You close your eyes, this time to relieve the sting you feel for the first time since getting home. With another breathing body as its witness, the grief hits you so suddenly you can taste it.

"Katsuki," you whimper, feeling him at your back. Familiar arms reach for you, pull you in.

"Y'r alright," he murmurs, pressing the underside of his jaw into your hair. The pressure on all sides squeezes something loose in you. You suck in a gasping breath, and then it leaves you—broken apart and limp. He holds you while you cry—keeps you there, tethered only to him in this storm.

Once the hurt comes, it lingers.

You suppose you can be grateful for that. People do crazy things under the burden of pent up emotion, and you can't afford to come unglued. Not like that, anyway. But while grief pulls you apart in different directions, your friends flit around your peripheral. You'd feel guilty if you could—for not being able to do what you should be able to—but few things get past the mountain of mourning that keeps you pinned to your bed.

They seem to have worked out shifts among themselves. Mina in the morning to get Kaede up and fed, Kirishima and Denki in the evening to get her bathed and ready for bed. Izuku comes around most afternoons with rattle toys and books to keep her engaged, talking and playing to keep her brain developing in your absence. Shielding her from this.

Katsuki doesn't leave.

He sleeps on the couch. Or you assume he does—you've not ventured out of your bed for much of anything. He's in and out of your room during the day, always with little meals or water or reminding you to shower, to get up and walk around the room if you can. It's hard and you cry often, but right now he's not his brash, abrasive self. He's gentler than you've ever seen him, a hand at your back to steady you, his voice low and grounding.

Your relationship with Katsuki is complicated, but not in a bad way. You'd met him, along with the rest of the group, in college. The civilian track at UA landed you a cushy office job—one you promptly turned down due to Katsuki's outrage at you working anywhere that wasn't with him. He'd gotten you a job as a resource coordinator at Jeanist's agency—which was something you found you really enjoyed. Your quirk was less than impressive—similar to Shouto's but not nearly as powerful, you could really only bring tea just shy of a boil. It certainly wouldn't be saving anyone's life, but in this role, you could help. Displaced families needed temporary housing, victims of violence needed access to affordable counseling, the injured needed connected to hearing aids and wheelchairs and prosthetics, ongoing care.

It was hard work, but you felt a certain privilege in being the one to do it. It was an honor to walk along side someone in their most vulnerable moments, and you tried to do it with as much grace and compassion as you could. When Katsuki was big enough to start his own agency, you followed him there. He gave you room to grow, and now, you head a team of community crisis response workers.

You haven't thought about work since the hospital. It's fascinating, how quickly something that matters so deeply to you can leave your mind. Katsuki hasn't mentioned it—in fact, he's not said much of anything, aside from his quiet prompting every few hours. You know that he's only doing what seems so inherent to him, and if you had the energy to, you'd tell him to go home—to take a break. The energy isn't there, though—all you can do is follow his directives to keep yourself alive.

Katsuki has always been protective of you. You're not sure when it started. You'd always been drawn to him, and there was seldom a time when you were somewhere that he wasn't. Your mother took to making up the spare bed for him when you'd come home for weekends and holidays, because it was a guarantee that he'd follow you through the screen door like a shadow. In your third year, she started asking, not so in jest, when the wedding would be.

When you met Takeshi, it was a surprise to everyone. But he was kind, and personable, and the newly-pro heroes adopted him into the fold.

Takeshi knew what Katsuki meant to you, and you were grateful for his patience. While his relationship with you was neatly defined, a specific box in your heart with his name on it—Katsuki was not. He was in everything that you were, and it was something that Takeshi chose not to interfere with. You're certain it was difficult, but he took it in stride.

He really was a kind man.

Within a year of being together, you found out you were pregnant. It was a shock—but what news filled you with terror, Takeshi received with utter delight. You were only a year out of college and in no way financially stable, but his joy left an impression on you. With each day, your child grew, and so did your tentative excitement. Takeshi was through the roof—as were your heroes.

Katsuki was the one to figure it out first. You'd been absent from a few of the group's weekly dinners at the bar in town. When you finally showed up, dressed in a big hoodie that covered most of you, you'd politely declined all offers of beer and stuck to stealing fries off of his plate.

"You pregnant?" he'd asked, not bothering to lower his voice. You blinked up at him, caught of guard.

"I—uh. Yeah."

You could've heard a pin drop, with how silent the table had fallen. You lowered your eyes—uncomfortable, unsure how to proceed—and reached for another fry. Mina broke the silence first.

"Oh my god!" she'd shrieked, already in tears. The rest of your friends followed in suit, cheering and reaching for you across the table in some strange attempt at a hug, at comfort.

You'd looked back up to Katsuki, who'd been strangely quiet. His eyes held a question—something undeniably concerned.

"It's okay," you told him, smiling softly. Squeezing his knee under the table, you couldn't miss how tense the muscle felt under your hand. "Honest."

A month crawls by, and you find that you can't sleep in your bed anymore.

After a few, agonizing hours of tossing and turning, and pointedly avoiding the other side of the bed, enough is enough. You stumble in the dark to the living room, trying your hardest to be quiet. It's your sniffling that wakes him up.

"Y'alright?" slurred, endearing. It would make you smile if you weren't crying. You shake your head, though his eyes aren't open to see it.

"Move over," you whisper, already pulling the blanket out from under his hip. Katsuki shifts, rolling to his side and lifting an arm for you to slot yourself underneath.

His heart beat, steady and slow, taps against your temple. You close your eyes and imagine the shape of it—the chambers that expand and contract and keep him alive. The wave of gratitude is immense and sudden and brings another sting to your eyes.

He doesn't go back to sleep—you can tell by his breathing.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, watery and broken. The arm around your waist tightens.

"Enough." His voice is gravely with sleep, but that's not all that's there. There's an edge to it, and you know that he's worried. "Try t'sleep."

Takeshi had made it a habit to talk with Kaede before she was born.

Each night, he would shuffle down the bed and speak softly to your growing stomach, filling her in on the events of the day.

"We wanted to go on a picnic today, but you made your mother sick." He'd pat your belly, shaking his head with a tsk. "That wasn't very nice, little girl."

Pregnancy was hard. You'd wished to be like those women that glow—that love being pregnant, that feel all connected to their bodies and the earth and the universe and whatever—but it was awful. Your ankles swelled and your back ached and you were sick all of the time.

Takeshi worked a 9-5 job outside the city, so Katsuki would stop by to check on you. It became something like a routine. You'd spend all morning throwing up, and then Katsuki would stop by and spend most of the afternoon here, feeding you anti-nausea medication and small bites of food (you'd really only wanted toast, which would launch Katsuki into a several minute tirade about how you'd kill yourself and the baby if you didn't eat a god damned vegetable. This was also part of your routine).

Katsuki's quirk was surprisingly helpful. It took some convincing ("You're not going to fry the baby Katsuki, Jesus Christ,"), but you found that if you had a layer between you, his hands could act as a high-powered heating pad. He'd sit behind you on the floor, one hand on your lower back, the other scrolling through his phone. You'd keep your head between your knees to stave of the nausea.

"You nervous?"

It was the first time he'd really asked. You rested your cheek on your knee, looking back to catch the blonde spikes of his hair in your peripheral.

"Honestly? Yeah. Really nervous."

He'd hummed, something noncommittal and gruff. You let the silence stretch on for another moment before breaking it again.

"I'm worried I'm going to poop on the table."

He'd snorted, and you could feel the eye roll from behind you. "That's what y'r worried about?"

"I mean, yeah. And the possibility of irreparably fucking up my child, I guess."

He'd gone quiet again, and you'd let your eyes close. Content for the moment.

"You'll do fine," he'd said, too quiet for him. The heat spread wider, his other hand joining the first at the small of your back. Kneading softly. "Kid's got a good mom."

She sits in front of you now, her chunky legs kicking wildly inside the cloth seat of her jumper. You watch her little toes feel out the ridged bottom, curling around the textures. It might be the first time since Takeshi died that you have really spent time with your child.

Kaeda grunts around the teething ring in her mouth, gurgling happily as Mina sits next to her—pink fingers pressing light up buttons on the tray to catch your daughter's eye. It works for a few seconds, but you sniff, and Kaeda's eyes find you.

"Dah!" the teething ring goes flying as she reaches for you, her head not quite catching up to the jerky movements of her body.

You smile at her, and the stretch of it feels foreign. "Hi, my baby."

It's effort, but you stand, reaching to grab under her armpits and hoist her out of her seat. Her fingers tangle in the strands of your hair. She seems bigger—heavier than she was before. It makes your chest ache. She sits on your hip as you spin her slowly, a sort of sashay around the perimeter of the rug.

"My big girl. Have you had fun with Mina?"

Katsuki watches you with lazy interest from his spot on the couch. Mina immediately busies herself with another task—folding blankets, cleaning up toys. You don't waste your breath telling her she doesn't have to. You'd already tried once, and she waved you off like a pesky fly.

"I'm not doing this because I have to, honey," she reminded you, not bothering to look up from pulling clothes out of the washing machine. "I want to."

At seven months, Kaeda has started to crawl. Or, sort of. It's more like an army crawl, with her little legs propelling her, in a way, across the ground. She gets antsy in your arms, and fusses to be put down.

"I hear ya, I hear ya," you murmur softly, bending to guide her to the soft ground. "Go nuts."

She does, squirming her way across the rug—right to Katsuki. She reaches where his arm hangs over the edge of the couch—and gives it a good, solid smack, her little palm splayed open across his skin.

"What th—y'little brat—"

He peers over the couch at her, and she squeals, clearly enamored by the game she's forced him into. She tries it again—winds up, determined, with her arm up by her head—but he snatches it up before it lands. This time it's a screech that leaves her, all of the air pushed out of her lungs to make room for the belly laugh that she dissolves into when he makes a big show of eating her grubby little fingers.

It was never a surprise to you that Katsuki was so good with Kaede. It was unexpected, though, how much he wanted to be around her. You'd asked about it once, after spending several moments watching him carry her around like a football and seemingly enjoying it, and he'd only shrugged.

"She's cooler than you, so."

You'd laughed, only a little indignant, shoving him lightly. He'd hissed at you to be careful, don't you see the fuckin' baby here, which made you laugh harder. It was absurd, this wall of a man toting around a tiny, slobbering infant.

She was just as enamored with him. She would seek him out anytime he was in her line of vision, often fighting her way out of your grasp to get to him. It reminded you of the way cats seem to flock to the one person that doesn't like cats—she'd picked the meanest looking man in the room and latched on.

Like mother, like daughter, you suppose.

"Do you have a name picked out?"

It was late—your head hung off the edge of the bed, which seemed to be the only position that didn't send acid reflux straight up your throat, oddly enough. Takeshi sat up at the other end, your feet in his lap while he pressed his thumbs into the soles of them.

"No," you told him honestly, "truthfully, I'm drawing a blank."

He'd hummed, hands moving up to get at your swollen ankles. "What about Kaede?"

"Kaede," you rolled the syllables around in your mouth, testing the shape of it. It felt nice. "How come?"

"I just—want her to be strong." It was thoughtful as it left him, hanging around in the air above your heads. "I want her to be like a maple tree."

"Like a tree," you repeated dryly, making him snort.

"You know! Like, rooted and strong. But able to change and sway in the wind, all that."

"Wow," you breathed, smiling, "you are so corny."

He sputtered, trying to defend himself, "It's not corny—!"

"Alright, alright," you reached down to pat the duvet, trying to placate him from afar, "Kaede. I like it."

Katsuki was the first one in the room after Kaede was born.

It was—unconventional—and you were made well aware of that by the open gawking of the nurses, but Takeshi didn't mind. You felt some guilt, fueled by the reaction of those around you, and told him as much.

"I'll have the rest of my life to hold her," he'd said. "I'll go grab him."

How sad it was to remember that moment now.

You'd closed your eyes for only a moment before you were stirred by a familiar hand on the crown of your head. You'd blinked and were startled to find him visibly concerned.

"You look like shit," he'd said, tilting your head to each side, as if to check for injury. It made you smile.

"Yeah, well, you push a watermelon out of the smallest orifice in your body and let me know how you feel."

He'd gagged, which made you laugh, which hurt.

"Oh, don't do that," you exhaled, long and controlled, "Everything hurts."

He'd gone quiet for a moment, watching you shift and settle back into the bed, wires and leads twisting and clanging off the plastic railing.

"Y'r okay?"

It made you smile. "I am. She's so beautiful, Kat. I can almost forgive her for totally wrecking me on the way out."

As if on queue, the child in question let out a grunt from her spot in the little plastic cradle—moving like a grub, swaddled. He looked at you for another long moment before rising to see for himself. He stopped, too far from the crib, and bent at the waist for a better view. You snorted.

"You can get closer, Katsuki. It's fine."

Another step toward her and he'd stopped again, clearly maxed out on his own comfort. The smile pulled at your cheeks so tightly that it ached.

He looked back at you, and then again to her. It was comical, how fascinated he'd seemed by the tiny person in front of him. And then, over his shoulder—

"You shit the bed?"

You groaned, bringing your hand up to cover your face, mindful of the IV. "I think I did."

His laugh was a crackling thing, echoing around the sterile walls of your room, and Kaede didn't stir at all.

When you step foot outside, it's immediately apparent how long it'd been since you last did.

It's a sort of sensory overload—the bright light and the birds and the passing cars and the knowledge that someone has been keeping up with your lawn while you rotted away inside.

From the shaky lines that cut into the grass at odd angles, you have a hunch it was Denki.

Mina accompanies you to the mailbox, as requested. Her arm, strong and assuring, looped through yours as she all but drags you down the short drive to the edge of the road.

You open the box, and immediately shut it.

All of it is for Takeshi.

"Oh sh—sugar," Mina hisses, as if you were not an adult with a fully formed (and often colorful) vocabulary. "I'm sorry, babe. I didn't think about that."

You shake your head. It's an inevitable thing that you don't have the energy to waste the tears on. "Will you sit with me?"

You end up on the porch swing, the metal springs above your head creaking with each suspended shove of your toe off the porch. It's a nice day, you think, trying hard not to find that particularly egregious.

Inside, you hear the squeal of your daughter, followed by the grumbling of Katsuki. It sounds a bit like a lecture that Kaede seems to think is hilarious. Another laugh—this time Denki.

"I'm really glad you're all here," you say eventually, quiet under the buzz of the world around you. "I know it's hard to put your own lives on hold."

She reaches for you, threading your fingers together and pulling them into her lap. "It's not hard at all. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else right now. I know the boys feel the same."

You lean your head against her shoulder, the gentle swaying lulling you somewhere else—on a beach, maybe. With the wind in your hair and salt on your lips. Anywhere but the home that your child's dead father haunts.

"Has Bakugou left at all?"

You snort. "I don't think so."

She sighs, shaking her head. You can hear the smile in it. "He's a real mother hen, that one."

You smile, feeling fond. A mother hen, and your protector.

The breeze turns colder, and Mina shivers. You focus your quirk into the hand she holds—the first time you've used it in quite some time.

She sighs. "God, that's nice. Way better than Blasty's in there."

Her chin presses into the crown of your head when she opens her mouth to speak, and then closes it again. Suddenly she's a little tense, like she's trying to build up her nerve.

"You can say it," you offer gently.

"I was just wondering if you'd stay here."

You've thought about it. It's been hard not too, with the way you can barely get yourself to open your bedroom door at this point. You'd spent every night on the couch with Bakugou since that night.

"No." You speak quietly, as if it's a secret between you. It feels strange to say it out loud. You think, if Takeshi is lingering, you don't want him to hear this. "I just—I don't know where to go. We'd planned to raise her here."

Here, in the home that you love. In the home that you can't bear to spend one more night in.

"Did he have..." She trails off, reconsidering. "I mean, did you get a..."

"Yes," you say, already knowing what she's asking. "I was paid out last week. I put all of it away in an account for Kaede." You sigh, sitting up to straighten out the kink that now exists in your neck. "With my job, we're fine. It's more...the principle of the thing. This is her home."

Mina squeezes your hand gently. "She's a baby, honey. She won't remember it. This was your home."

You tilt your head back, willing away the sting of fresh tears and the irritation you feel at having done so well today until this point.

"Yeah," you sniff, closing your eyes, "it was."

Time passes in waves. Slowly, creeping, and then all at once.

The longer you're in the house, the more you realize you can't stay. You are certain of it, the first time you're left alone.

Katsuki had stepped out to grab dinner. You'd all but shoved him out the door, assuring him that you'd be fine for the 20 minutes it took to pick the food up.

"Y'need anything, you call." It was the fourth or fifth time he'd said it to you.

"Alright, alright," you tell him, trailing down the front steps behind him. "I will, I promise."

When you shut the door behind you again, there's a feeling of lethality to it—a debilitating silence that you haven't heard in four months.

You don't want to go any further into the house. You do, only to grab Kaede, and then you're right back outside. It starts to rain, and it feels fitting. You sit under the awning behind your daughter as she sticks her toes out into the drizzle, curling them with each drop that falls on her skin. You think about how overwhelming it must be as a baby—how new everything is.

It's less than 15 minutes later when Katsuki pulls into the driveway. He's out of his truck and in front of you in record time, frowning at you like he already knows something's wrong. Kaede reaches for him, and he scoops her up like it's muscle memory. He waits for you to talk. A moment passes.

"I can't be here anymore," you whisper, shaky. He looks at Kaede for a long moment, like she could have something offer on the topic.

"Alright," he says, reaching for the front door with his free hand, "pack a bag."

It takes you longer than you thought it would. You'll be back—you have to come back, because you can't take everything right now—but it feels final. The beginning of the true end. There's a framed picture of you and Takeshi at your baby shower on your nightstand. You consider taking it with you—instead, you turn it face down and move on.

By the time you manage to shove a hoodie, some shorts, a few pairs of underwear and your toiletries into a bag, Katsuki has already packed two bags for Kaede and put her in her carrier. You just look at him, wholly dumbfounded.

"You good?"

You look at him for another beat. "Yeah, fine."

The drive to Katsuki's isn't long. You follow him in your car, not wanting to leave it in your driveway. Kaede is with Katsuki, something you didn't fight him on.

You spend 10 of the 15 minute drive flipping through radio stations before you finally turn it off. You're left in silence, and you're now well and truly alone for the first time since Takeshi died.

You suck in a breath, trying to dislodge the thing that has lived in your chest everyday since.

"You knew something was wrong," you say, out loud, to no one. "You knew something was wrong, and you didn't tell me."

You picture him next you—mouth opening to respond, to defend himself. You beat him to it.

"It was preventable," your heart breaks again. "There was no reason—"

You'd tried to keep this at bay—the knowledge that Takeshi's death was meaningless. You hadn't heard a word the doctor said, but you'd read the pathologist's report. It was too hard, too much to process with everything else that needed tended to, but your brain seems to take advantage of every quiet moment you get.

"You left her without a father," your breath comes ragged, both hands gripping the steering wheel tightly to make up for the tears that threaten to block out your vision, "you—you left me,"

With impeccable timing, no sooner than you pull into Katsuki's apartment complex and park do you dissolve completely, curling in on yourself in your seat. It's crushing, this grief and this anger together inside a body that surely cannot hold all of it.

You don't see Katsuki when he approaches your driver's side door. You don't see him when he hesitates, one arm holding Kaede and the other outstretched as if you grab hold of you and pull you from your suffering himself. You don't see when he decides against it—when he turns around to leave you to do what you need to do on your own.

In a way, you start to feel lighter. Like something has shifted, like the boulder in your chest has fragmented just enough to let a breath through.

You get Kaede up on your own today. You let yourself linger over her, leaning on the side of the pack-n-play to watch her as she sleeps. Her little eyelashes frame her round cheeks, fluttering with whatever dream she's in the middle of.

The upturn of her nose, the slope of her forehead—these are things she gets from Takeshi. The curve of her eyes, the shape of her fingernails—those are yours. She is the most even mix of two people you’ve ever seen, and something about that makes losing Takeshi a little easier. It would’ve been a lot harder if she had simply taken his face.

She stirs as if she’s felt your thorough examination. “Hey, sweetheart,” you coo, reaching down to pull her up. She lays her head down on your shoulder, sleepy, and something about it brings tears to your eyes so suddenly that you startle yourself.

This tiny person that relies on you for everything. This little girl that fits so easily in your arms. She is yours, to keep safe and happy and content. She is a promise you made, both to Takeshi and yourself. She is the thing that will keep you going, even when you’re certain you cannot take another step. She is the thing you have to show up for, no matter what.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” your voice is tiny as it is watery, whispered into her hair, to her already sleeping form. You stand there, in the middle of Katsuki’s spare bedroom, rocking your child and letting the tears fall down in fat drops—and it feels like the most normal thing in the world. “I’m so sorry. I’m here.”

It’s only when you turn your head that you see Katsuki lingering in the doorway. You open your mouth to tell him that you’re alright, but you only manage something wounded, something pathetic and broken and painful. He’s in front of you in an instant, unwinding Kaede from your hold and putting her back into the pack-n-play, still sleeping. It’s only another second before he’s dragging you to him, nearly crushing you to his chest. It pulls another wave of tears from you, because it feels good. To be held, and to be held by Katsuki, who would reduce every source of your pain to ash if he could. He holds you like he means to keep you intact—to put you back together the best he can. The only person who has ever held you like this, meant it like this.

Six months, 13 days, and 11 hours after Takeshi dies, something changes.

part 2 soon. thanks for reading, love u. <3

#will i ever stop writing about this man? not likely #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou fic #bakugou x you #mha fic #bnha fic #bnha writing #bakugou hurt comfort #mha x reader #bnha x reader

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fumekara · 7 months

Text

MORE THAN ANYTHING

Kento Nanami x Gn reader

n/a: English is not my first language, besides, this Fic comes from a draft taken some time ago. I hope you enjoy it. It is my first time back to writing in a long time.

Tw: Just pure fluff and soft sfw, I would like to specify that this post does not contain any type of sexual content. The title is inspired by HH's song.

WC: 1.1K

That night you could not fall asleep.

After turning yourself several times on the sheets of the bed, on which you had lain a couple of hours before, you looked at the half-open door through which a dim light filtered from the living room, giving the bedroom a thread of light in the darkness of the night.

You hoped your man would decide to drop the papers and paperwork he often brought home from work and come to bed with you, wrapping you in his arms so you could finally sleep in complete bliss as you usually did.

"I'll be right with you, it won't take long," he had told you when you proposed to sleep with him after you both went through a long day at work.

However, this was one of those evenings when Kento would spend hours on the kitchen table filling out paperwork late into the night. Although he hated office work, he was always diligent and meticulous when it came to completing his tasks.

It was a characteristic that made you feel proud of the man you loved, yet no matter how responsible and careful he was in managing his time and energy, you were sure he was beginning to place less importance on his rest. You wanted so much for him to give up those silly practices and take the rest he deserved.

After staring at the ceiling for an hour, you sat on your side of the bed, shivering from the sudden cold due to the lack of blankets, and looking at the bedside table you saw that 00:50 was written on the screen. And even today he worked late

You got up and, making as little noise as possible, took small steps towards the living room.

Kento was writing something on his laptop, surrounded by a pile of papers divided into folders of various kinds lit by the light of the monitor and the lamp you kept in the corner of the kitchen.

He noticed your presence and gave you a small, tired smile, giving your heart some warmth.

"Are you still awake, love?" He asked as he leaned against the back of the chair.

"I could tell you the same thing," you replied a little sleepily, returning the smile and moving closer to the blond. As sorry as you are that he was exhausted from work, you couldn't help but think about how handsome he was. Even though you'd been together for a few years, the love you felt for this man had always had that effect on you. I've been waiting for you,' you said, heading towards him.

You sit on his lap and he wraps his big arms around you, you notice that the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up and show off his forearms, something he always did when he came home. Leaning his head on your shoulder and inhaling deeply, he loses himself in your scent and warmth. Suddenly all the tiredness he had put aside to work on his papers came over him like a wave of a stormy sea, but the fact that you were there with him gave him a feeling of comfort.

He always felt at home with you.

"I'm sorry Y/N". He rubbed his head in the crook of your neck "I was late again without me noticing" he said, planting a chaste kiss on an exposed spot on your shoulder.

Gently you brushed his hair back with one hand, while with the other you closed the laptop he was working on just now, making it clear that it was time for him to take the rest he so richly deserved.

"Come to sleep, Kento, it's not good for you to stay here late and I miss you," you said as you rested your head on his soft hair on your cheek.

"I know, you're right," he lifted his chin, placing a kiss on your neck, "I don't like leaving you alone either."

Lifting your head slightly, you turned to stare at him, touching his cheek lovingly as you looked intently into his eyes.

Pure love

You couldn't have found any other words to describe the way he looked at you whenever you were in situations like this, alone, with no one else to interrupt you, without Gojo, just the two of you. He made you feel loved, important, and you often thought back to the moment you realized you had fallen in love with him.

As a result, Nanami couldn't understand how he could have you in his life, how lucky he was to have you and how much he regretted making you go through nights like this when he left you alone. He felt selfish and the only thing he wanted at that moment was to go to bed and wrap you in his arms with your head against his chest.

You remained in that position for a long time, a wonderful feeling for both of you. He placed his face on yours and then gave you a kiss on the cheek savoring the aroma.

Without saying anything, you got up from his lap, took his hand without taking your eyes off his and, after switching off the lights, slowly guided him towards your shared bedroom.

"I'm sorry I don't spend much time with you," he said as he shed his work clothes, "I don't want you to stay up because of me, but I appreciate you doing so." After slipping into his sweatpants, he settled next to you in bed as you wrapped him with the quilt.

"You don't have to apologize for working so hard, you have done and are doing a great job. I just want you not to overdo the work, everyone deserves a break and you especially." After turning off the lights you lie down beside him and feel him encircling your waist with his arm "Don't think you are being mean to me Kento, you always do so much for me, you show me that every day and remind me every time you look at me."

In the darkness you could glimpse his small smile that made your heart melt.

"Come here," he told you as he felt butterflies in his stomach, as if he had managed to fall in love with you even more than before.

More than anything.

You felt his grip envelop you even more as you brought faces closer and met lips in a chaste, soft, pure kiss.

When you pulled away, you rested your head on his chest and closed your eyes.

"I love you Y/N."

"I love you too, darling."

You both fell asleep wrapped in bliss.

#jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu nanami #jujutsu kaisen fandom #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #nanami fluff #kento nanami #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento #nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #nanami kento x gender neutral reader #kento x reader #jjk nanami #nanami x you #nanami kento fluff #nanami fanfic

163 notes · View notes

m1d-45 · 1 year

Text

the scars, the wound

summary: heizou has two important skills: his intuition and his martial arts. he prefers not to use the latter when working on cases, but what happens when the first fails him?

word count: ~2k

-> warnings: mention/implication of violence near the end.. minor spoilers for heizou lore?

-> gn reader (you/yours)

-> if this looks familiar, it’s a rewrite of this. i didn’t think i posted that draft because it was in need of so much improvement when i recently re-found it, and didn’t realize until after already posting this… whoops.

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr

< masterlist >

heizou’s intuition is wrong, for once. it’s impossibly unlikely, something he can’t remember happening before, but it’s the only logical explanation.

he’s walking through ritou, taking a minor detour along the beach. why, he’s not certain, but some string in his stomach insisted he went. and so, following his intuition, he did.

at first, it’s sand. as all beaches are. he finds himself scanning the shore for anything strange, kicking at a few odd looking rocks. he even checks a few times with elemental sight, but all he gets are the faint wisps of hydro lingering on the sand. not that that meant much—his elemental affinity was never the highest, kazuha was far more reliable for this sort of thing—but normally he could at least gather a general idea of what his mind was trying to tell him… but not this time.

no, when he saw you sitting in the sand, it was the last thing he could have expected.

he stops, squinting a bit. the sky is darkening, approaching dusk, and he was meant to be going to a meeting with thoma. to bother a random civilian and make himself late wasn’t ideal, but to scare you off if you were a criminal could possibly be worse. so, he approaches quietly, noting the way you turned as he did.

and then he recognizes you, all at once. your face was reflected in the posters plastered all over the city, in word-of-mouth descriptions from other officers—you’re the one the whole world’s been looking for. your skin is dirty and your clothes could certainly use a few hours with a needle and thread, and paper doesn’t quite capture the blank look in your eyes as well.

still, he crouches down with a wave, crossing his arms on his knees. “hey there! detective heizou of the tenry-“

“i know you.”

your voice sends a chill down his spine. it pulls at something deep in his core, his soul screaming that you are friend, not foe. briefly, he wonders why he stopped here at all, and then shock hits him like a punch to the gut.

for the first time in a long time, his instincts were wrong.

wrong, because you’re a fugitive.

his smile turns strained, unable to shake the feeling that he’s doing something wrong despite knowing he’s within full legal right. his skin prickles, and he digs his nails into his arm guards to keep steady. “do you? gotta say, i can’t blame you. my name is flung around quite a lot.”

you’re tense but not running. you know him, you know who he is, so…

blank eyes peer at him from under the overgrown shags of your hair, half-lidded and tired. his mind constructs a metaphor without his asking, as if attempting to make sense of something far more complex than you; jewelry, rusted and ancient, luster long lost across the years.

he almost feels sympathetic, but he’s not sure why. he should hate you. you fly in the face of everything he stood for—truth, justice, his creator—but he can’t find the will to do anything to arrest you. he knows he could apprehend you in an instant, between his skill and your exhaustion, but he doesn’t. and he doesn’t know why.

it bothers him.

“so, what’re you doing on ritou? need any help getting a permit to the rest of the island?”

he tells himself he’s asking because doing that would force your hand, not because he wants to help. that’s ridiculous. when did he start thinking this way? has he caught a cold, by chance?

“no.”

“then surely there’s a more comfortable place to be than the beach?” what’s he doing? why does he care? who cared if sand plastered your skin, if you got sick from being outside? “tides get pretty high around here, it would do you good to find a place to rest.”

you look out to the sea, some of the tension leaving your body. it’s not relaxation, more like surrender. “i don’t have anywhere to go.”

his chest is beginning to feel oddly tight.

it’s like he’s seeing the stars themselves in your eyes despite the darkness and the fact that that’s not possible. there’s a small shimmer to them, the sun itself contained inside, a glow that shows when they flicker over him like you’re pulling out all of his secrets. he’s not sure why he wants to give them to you. “i’m sure you know that, though.”

he does, he knows, he was at the meeting with kujou sara and the rest of the police force. he was the one she pulled aside to personally ask he put his full attention on it—as if he hadn’t already the second she mentioned his god—and he’s heard of the stories from the mainland. he knows everything, he’s read over every single report he could get imported, and yet every word you say feels brand new. when you say ‘you’ it feels like you’re the first person to ever lay on him, and it’s scary that he doesn’t find that frightening. his mouth is dry, all of his normal quick retorts and easy replies falling out of his reach. he settles for a nod, and you look back to the sea.

you look dull, his mind says, pulling on all of his vocabulary to try and connect a sentence together that properly describes it. your entire form feels… fleeting? no, not that. impermanent, maybe, like fog. so dense from afar, yet vanishing once he gets close. you’re… everywhere, a mist lingering in the air, waiting for him to look away so you can take a solid form again.

are you a youkai looking for a bit of fun? perhaps he’s mistaken. maybe he’d guessed wrong, maybe you’d just stolen another’s face for a prank.

…that’s stupid. since when has that been one of his first explanations for something? no, something’s wrong- he has to get this- this spell off of him. now he remembers, the paper from the alchemist from mondstat, he remembers, he remembers-

he-

he remembers the soft smile on his father’s face, wiping the dirt from his knees. “you must be careful,” he says, careful not to irritate the scrapes with the cloth. “you have been blessed with this mind of yours, but you must be wise enough to use it properly.”

“i’m wise!” he insists, and his father laughs, reaching for the bandages at his side.

“you’re intuitive,” he corrects. “and every day i pray to our god that you to learn the difference.”

heizou tears his eyes away from you, pretending that the sand isn’t blurry.

you’re a fraud. he has to arrest you. you’re tricking the people, you’re impersonating the highest deity, the literal god of gods, youve fooled even his own mind, you have to be stopped. for the good of the world. for the good of the earth. for the hood of his god.

…so…

“why aren’t you trying to kill me yet?”

his heart both flares and breaks, hands twitching for both his cuffs and to hold you close. your voice is so rough, so cracked and tattered and filled with something similar enough to betrayal that it’s paralyzing.

he needs to arrest you.

(he needs to get you water.)

he has to bring you in so the shogun can kill you.

(he has to get you a room somewhere so you can rest. you look so tired.)

his mind is as blurred as his sight, confusion instead of tears muddling his thoughts.

what’s happening? why does his mind like (adore, want, need, worship) you so much, when he knows he has to take you in? he’s been given direct orders, he knows what he has to do, so why can’t he do it? when did he fall for such easy tricks? he’s shikanoin heizou, the most trusted detective of the tenryou commission, and he cannot be swayed by your words. he can’t afford to be.

(it’s not just your words. the air around you is so soft, so welcoming, inviting him to sit in the sand with you until it’s dawn again. he’s at ease in a way he hasn’t been in a long while, even despite the stress of the situation. he should, in reasonable circumstances, be stressed, but you’ve cleared his mind to a simple volley between two ideas: his loyalty to his god, and his newfound loyalty to you.)

he wants to tell you that he’d never want to hurt you. “i try to leave that to the higher-ups” is what he says instead.

you sign, running a shaking hand over your hair. it’s full of sand and salt and needs to be cut, badly. you take an equally unsteady breath, and when you speak you sound like you’re about to cry. “i don’t want to fight you, heizou.”

the way you say his name fills his chest with something hotter than fire and sweeter than honey, a supernova made into sugar and placed into the gap left by his heart.

the last of the sun shines off the water and outlines you in its glow, the only thought in his mind that of your beauty.

he licks his lips—they taste of salt—and forces words to come up. “i don’t want to fight you either.”

it’s the truth, and he hates that it is.

instead of saying anything else, you stand, and heizou scrambles to follow. he tells himself it’s because he needs to be ready to run after you. that’s it. that’s all. you take a step away and he is quick to match it, transfixed as you pick up a long wooden staff, akin to a walking stick. it’s taller than you are, and he’s not sure how he missed it laying beside you.

“you’ll lose your job if you don’t, detective.”

he might.

heizou blinks.

…he won’t.

no… he won’t.

facing you head on, the acceptance in your eyes is clearer, like you knew it would come to this. his hand drifts to his baton hesitantly, and sees your grip on the wood. it’s splintered, he notices, likely a piece of driftwood you found along the beach.

why is he waiting? why is he stalling?

he’s let this go on for too long already. he’s being ridiculous. this is wrong. it’s his job to take in criminals and he’s staring at one of the worst, so what is he hesitating for?

against his better judgement, he tightens his hands to fists. he’ll be gentle, he promises himself, but it doesn’t soothe the storm in his head. he‘ll be careful, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s still likely to hurt you. maybe by the end of it, if he’s clever with the use of his vision, you’d barely have a bruise. did you even know how to fight properly? you don’t seem all that confident in your weapon. at least that’ll make his job easier, right?

he’s stalling again.

heizou takes a breath. against his intuition, he takes the first swing.

503 notes · View notes

secondhand-snow · 7 months

Text

a body of impulses

chapter 2: feeling like unraveling

lukas matsson x f!roy! reader (succession)

★ chapter 1 ★ | ★chapter 3★

wc: 9.0k+

warnings: super dysfunctional family, fluff first then angst, roman roy as his own warning, season 3 finale as its own warning, mentions of manipulation, drinking, smut, virgin!reader, inexperienced!reader, corruption kink (for real this time), dick pics, mention of phone sex, making out, dry humping/grinding, biting, pussyjobs, cum play/eating, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), aftercare, no use of y/n

summary: Lukas is amazing. He's tender, he's deviant, he's everything for you. But you're still worried, your family has never seen a beautiful thing that they haven't wanted to break.

author's note: chapter 2 is here, thank you for all the love on chapter 1! i hope you love it as much as i loved writing it ♡ be warned that this is heavy on the plot of episodes 3.08 and 3.09, so if you haven't watched the full show you may get a bit lost. please consider liking, commenting, or reblogging if you enjoyed!

You have a tendency to get anxious when things are good for too long. A few weeks without a family fight, a month without a scandal, half a year without Kendall relapsing; nice things usually end in flames in your family. They make you superstitious, always looking around the corner for something to jump out and fuck everything up. So, when Lukas is good, you get scared. You expect some kind of backhand. A threat of blackmail, a tweet exposing your promiscuity, a package of anthrax at your door.

It never comes.

He calls you every night, your timezone, not his. Listens to you talk about your day and doesn’t press when you can’t give him details on the company. He loves to send you pictures, just of him doing the most mundane things. Lukas on a Zoom meeting, Lukas working out, Lukas eating dinner. Together, you fall into something almost domestic. It’s still a secret. You don’t open his messages in public, stay far away from any conversations about him at work that could lead a blush to your face. But when has anything in your life been completely honest?

He’s been begging for a while now to fly you out to Sweden. You know it’s a risk you shouldn’t take at the moment, but you entertain him anyway. When you ask why he wants to see you so badly, he says he misses you. Then he says he wants to fuck you on his desk.

That almost convinces you, and you’re about to start packing when a roadblock emerges. Your dad asks you to come with him and your siblings to Italy, for Caroline’s wedding. You hadn’t been planning on going, she wasn’t your mom and you didn’t have much of a relationship with her. In fact, you actually thought she secretly hated you, something to do with how quickly Logan married your mom after their divorce. Regardless, you didn’t want to go to the wedding. But when Logan Roy calls, you come. Always.

So the bags were repacked and you found yourself on a different private jet with your siblings, once again at the mercy of your family.

“She’s probably in sexual thrall to him. He’s driving her wild with his sugar dick.” Siobhan spoke matter of factly, completely oblivious to how absurd her words sounded. Still, it wasn’t the strangest conversation of hers you’d walked in on. “So there’s nothing we can do.”

Roman was perched across the aisle from Tom and Shiv, sitting oddly in his seat, running his hand through his hair while he spoke. “All right, fine. Let him kill her for her emeralds and… screw us out of the fucking firm. See if I care.”

“Mommy issues?” You spoke up, setting your bag down on a free seat before moving to lean over the back of Shiv’s chair, kneeling on the seat behind it.

“Always. I didn’t know you were coming?” Rome turns to address you, eyebrows coming together in question.

“Dad drafted me. I think he just wants to terrorize Caroline with my presence.”

“I think you torment her enough by just existing. She doesn’t get to be the perfect mother of Logan Roy’s prodigal children.” Shiv pitched in, finally acknowledging your presence with a little smile.

“I don’t think I’m even invited to all the events. He’s just gonna have me working on the GoJo deal the whole time.”

“Oh! About the deal, I was talking to Karl and Frank-” Tom is addressing Roman more than you, but still gives you the courtesy of eye contact before your brother cuts him off.

“Yeah, no, you’re not really a part of that. Either of you, actually.” Rome nods his head to the couple, a smirk on his face charged by his current power trip.

“Well, I am.” Shiv interjects, annoyed.

“Well, I can’t fire you yet Shiv, because I’m still a little bit scared of you. But, my thinking is, when I take over, I’m gonna put you in the office next to mine and you’re gonna be my sexy secretary.” You just shake your head at Roman’s comment while he turns to head back to his seat.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Siobhan is more irritated than really upset, going back to her phone as Roman leaves the conversation.

“I dunno. We’re working on it.” He taps the back on his legs in a rhythm before sitting down. “Ongoing process.”

You address Tom, seeing the confusion in his eyes that people tend to get when talking to your brother. “We’re just working on outlining terms. Honestly, Gerri would be better to ask for specifics. I don’t know how much Dad wants me to say.”

Tom just nods in thanks, which you return with a small smile before heading to your seat. You’re across the aisle from Roman, who’s already curled up and ready to nap on the flight. Taking out your phone, you see a new message from Lukas, covertly labeled in your phone with just an “L.” You turn the screen away from your company, making sure to not catch the reflection in the window as you open his text.

Stockholm is a 4 hour flight to Italy.

Is it? I’ll be in the air for at least 10 hours.

10 hours without talking to you?

I think you can manage it.

I don’t know about Italy. I can’t be held responsible for what I do when I’m in the same country as you.

It’s a risk.

Will there be a reward?

…I’ll text you when we land.

He sends a picture of himself doing a kissing face. You send a heart emoji in response, hiding your face with your hand to conceal your smile.

It turns out that you were invited to a few events of Lady Caroline’s wedding. Not the ceremony, of course, but at least you were allowed to attend the receptions leading up to it. You weren’t going to be cooped up in a hotel room all weekend, signing documents and having Facetime sex with your not-boyfriend. In fact, you ended up at one of these events just a little after your arrival, a garden party full of snobby aristocrats and expensive champagne. It’s too hot out for your liking, you're already sweating in your semi-formal sundress and downing your second glass of cold bubbly.

You end up with Shiv, partially blocked from the sun by the shadow of her hat, quietly snickering at her and Tom’s jokes about a clueless cousin Greg. It’s surprisingly calm for one of your family gatherings, no shouting or challenging or worse. The tranquility snaps like a twig with a ding on your phones.

“Uh- Matsson…” Shiv speaks first, the two of you pulling out your phones simultaneously, her angling her screen to share it with Tom. A message from Karolina leads you to Matsson’s twitter page, and his latest tweet. It’s a goofy gif of his face with a Snapchat filter on it, the text reading ‘Going to Macao, feeling lucky.” You’re half excited, half alarmed. You don’t really know if you should believe it at first but, against your better judgment, you hope it’s true. Hope he’s just an hour or two from you, the closest he’s been in weeks.

“What? Going to Macao? Feeling lucky?” Tom squints against the sun to see the Tweet before pulling out his own phone. “The fuck is that?”

“You get this thing from Karolina? It’s off the radar and now this? Is this- is it a move?” Gerri’s entrance is quick, followed closely behind by Roman. You open your mouth and close it again, not sure if your words will betray your duplicity.

“It, um, it could be…could be nothing, you know? Fucking social media fireworks!” Roman’s hand is threaded through his hair, the silver watch on his wrist glinting in the light.

“‘Going to Macao, feeling lucky.’” Gerri repeats the four words, she’s as flabbergasted as everyone in this little Waystar circle. Business has once again interfered with pleasure. “Is he trying to boost his price?”

“Is he just rocking the boat?” Shiv’s voice is unsure, wavering from her usual monotone state. “Or trying to blow up the deal? I mean, has he got good subscriber numbers coming in?”

“Maybe he’s just going to Macao and he’s feeling lucky.” Tom chimes in as Rome steps away from the group, phone pressed to his ear in a call you can’t fully hear.

“I mean, yeah… It’s not out of his archetype to post something like this.” You shrug, not sure what to contribute that hasn’t already been said.

Roman finishes his call, turning back to you to speak. “I don’t know, it’s like, his thing. He’s a- a trickster.”

“Okay. Well, sounds cool. Is he gonna, like, steal our watches and fucking saw the deal in half?” Shiv’s getting upset, you know she likes control and she’s too far removed from this deal to do anything about Matsson’s stunts.

“Maybe!”

“You’re supposed to be inside this Rome!”

“Hey, it’s gonna be fine. Mattson’s not stupid, he wouldn’t deliberty fuck this deal and announce it to the world on Twitter.” You’re trying to reason with your siblings, though it’s not really working. Roman mostly ignores you, Siobhan rolls her eyes. Atleast Gerri and Tom look somewhat appreciative for your input.

“I am inside, Leave it.”

You’re done with the dialogue, done with being the peacemaker and getting stepped over by your narcissistic siblings. You throw your hands up, phone held in one and the other in a flat palm to signify your retreat before you walk away from the cluster. You hear Greg say something behind you but don’t bother to answer him, instead moving to find a quiet place far away from your siblings.

You end up in a corner somewhere, mostly blocked by trees and bushes, a little cubby hole you hoped was private enough to not be listened in on. Your fingers nimbly click through the apps on your phone, pausing briefly before pressing the call button on Lukas’s contact. It rings once, twice. Then, an answer.

“When are you coming over? Should I send you a helicopter?”

“Macao?” Your voice is higher than normal, laced in shock and thrill.

“Closer than we’ve been in weeks.” The smile is apparent in his voice, he’s pleased with himself, you hate it. And love it.

“You’re fucking insane. I didn’t think you were serious!”

“Yeah, I am. I’ll send my jet over.”

“Oh my God, I still cannot believe you. I can’t- my family is on high alert after your little rogue Tweet.” You laugh, not really mad at him, just eager and amazed.

“Oh come on, that was nothing.”

“It was a play to keep them on guard and you know it.”

“Well, partially. It’s for the numbers too. And for your attention.”

“It’s so hard to be away from you when you do shit like this…”

“Oh yeah? You miss me?” It’s a taunt, he knows the truth even if you deny it. So, you’re honest.

“You know I do.”

“Mmm… I miss you too. Keep thinking about what I’ll do when I see you again.”

“Lukas… I’m in public…” You can’t help but glance around, be sure you’re alone when he starts talking like this. His plan is already so clear to you.

“So you don’t want me to tell you about all the ways I’ll fuck you?”

“... Don’t do this to me now.”

“It’ll be just us in this house. I’ll take you wherever I want to. You can scream as loud as you want, don’t have to be worried about someone hearing.” His voice drops, there’s a small rustling on the phone. His words shoot straight to your core, a sensation beginning to form there.

“I’m at a fucking wedding party and you’re getting me turned on. You’re evil.”

“You love it.” You pause a moment, taking a deep breath and steeling yourself before responding.

“I’ll call you tonight. Please be careful.”

He chuckles.“I will.”

When you hang up, your text thread with Lukas is immediately graced with a photo of his dick, hard and gripped tightly in his fist. It makes you inhale sharply, curse under your breath at the growing need between your thighs. You text him back, simply writing “Fuck you.” before clicking your phone off. It takes you a few minutes of breathing exercises, but you’re able to calm your desire and soothe the blush in your cheeks before returning to the party.

Nobody asks where you went, nobody even really cared that you were gone. You can blame it on Connor’s show of making a proposal, or Matsson’s antics occupying everyone’s minds, but this is how it always is with you. The good child. The innocent daughter. Forever right where she needs to be, never in anyone’s way, constantly willing to help. You disappear when you aren’t wanted, you emerge only when you’re useful. The perfect loyalist, somehow being turned to a deserter.

Lukas leaves Monaco before you can sneak away to see him. You know it’s for the better, but it’s still a disappointment. You resign to finish the family trip and visit Sweden as soon as you get home to New York, going along with the planned events, a false smile plastered on your face. It’s during Caroline’s bachelorette in Cortona when your plans change. You were nursing a glass of wine, silencing your discontent at the rooftop bar when Gerri approached you.

She dragged you around to speak with Roman, revealing that your Dad had once again put you on babysitting duty. Logan wanted Rome to go talk to Mattson at his house in Switzerland, and wanted you to keep him in line. He couldn’t trust Roman to not fuck the deal, but he didn’t want you to speak to Mattson alone. So, you were recruited to accompany Rome. Speak just enough to stop him from saying something stupid, but not enough to draw attention. It was a game you were good at, one you had been practicing since youth. You were loyal to a fault, and Logan always used it to his advantage.

Lukas is ecstatic when you tell him you’re coming. Less so when he learns Roman is accompanying you, but still thrilled. You ask him for discretion, first nicely and then sternly. You can’t afford to make your relationship, whatever it is, public. He knows this too, knows what your family would do if they found out, but can’t help teasing. It’s only a day after Logan’s request that you board a helicopter, headed to Lake Maggiore. Headed to Lukas.

Roman is oddly quiet on the flight, constantly on his phone or looking out the window, eyes blank. You know him well enough to see the anxiety clouding his mind, feel the nervous energy radiating off his body. You reach over to him and hold his hand. He looks annoyed. He doesn’t drop it. You squeeze his fingers gently, he returns the motion, lets you quietly comfort him until you land.

Lake Maggiore is beautiful, surrounded by the Alps and lush vegetation, villas and lake homes dotting the shores of the water. You move straight from the helicopter to a boat, which immediately takes off at high speeds, skating over the surface of the lake. The wind fucks up your hair, blows up the skirt of your sundress, almost makes you loose your sunglasses. When you finally dock, you quickly pull out your phone, using it as a mirror to fix your smudged makeup and windswept hair before your host arrives. Roman gives you a weird look, silently judging you for putting effort into your appearance. As if he doesn’t spend hours in front of the mirror every morning styling his hair to look perfectly imperfect.

When Lukas’s frame finally emerges from the hedges of his property, you have to bite your lower lip to hide your smile. He’s so himself, wearing sweatpants and a plain t-shirt, not bothering with real shoes, just a pair of casual slip-ons. It almost hurts to see him and not be able to immediately kiss him. Jesus, your inner monologue sounds like something from a cheesy rom-com. You feel so love-struck, it makes you crinkle your nose in embarrassment.

The boat is tied up to the dock now, Roman perched on the side trying to make it onto solid land. The waves rock the vehicle back and forth, knocking him off balance and ruining his attempt at disembarking.

“Do you want me to hold your hand?” Lukas has one hand in his pocket, the other reached out to Rome, close enough for him to grab. If he wanted to. “Come on, I’ll hold your hand.”

“Piss off.” Roman swats his hand away, finally moving off the boat with a small jump. You move, taking his place on the edge of the boat. It’s a bit unsteady, but you manage getting on to the dock in just a few seconds. You shoot a smug smile at Roman before following the two of them up some steps, away from the water and onto Lukas’s yard.

“It’s nice to see you again, man.” Roman speaks first, breaking the silence that had fallen over you three.

“Yeah, yeah. Long time.” Lukas has his usual posture, slightly hunched and lanky, with his hands in his pockets nonchalantly.

“This is an amazing place!” Rome looks around, you continue to follow him and Lukas through the lawn, letting them lead you as you observe.

“Yeah...”

“No?”

“I don’t know, it kind of freaks me out, to be honest.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“When I got it, I wanted everything to be perfect.” You climb a few steps, the group arriving at an outdoor pool area, lined with shrubs and facing the lake. “Now I’m sleeping on a camping mat until I get a deep dive on the best mattress in the world. It’s great- it’s great. I’m just not feeling great. I mean… I’m fine… Well, but, not really.”

You frown at his words. You want to reach out, hold his hand, touch his back, do something to comfort him. But it would be too obvious, too impulsive. Instead you nod sympathetically, catching his gaze for a moment.

“Maybe let’s leave the little feeley-feelings out of it. Cause I’m gonna give you nothing. Nothing!” Roman’s half joking. He hates emotions, tries to diffuse bad ones with humor, even if it feels inappropriate.

“Roman.” Your tone is a warning, pushing your sunglasses back on your head to give him a glare before turning to Lukas. “I get it. You want the best, but you don’t realize how boring perfection is when you always have it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Success.. It doesn’t interest me anymore. It’s too easy. It’s fucking… anyone can do it. Analysis plus capital plus execution. But failure… that’s a secret.” Lukas is looking at you like you’re the only person in the world when he speaks. Sometimes he thinks you can see into his soul, you somehow know him better than anyone. He takes his sunglasses off, using the collar of his shirt to hold them. His blue eyes look directly into yours.“What are you worst at?”

“Well… I… am never telling you any of my weaknesses. Ever. Never, ever, ever.” Roman breaks into the conversation again, disrupts the eye contact between you two. “And I won’t let her tell you any either. Stuff a sock in her mouth, a ball gag or something.”

“That’s smart.”

“I know, I am smart.”

“Cause I ream people. Juice em like oranges. I get way too into people, and they disappoint me.” He looks at Roman when he says that, but you can’t help but take his words as a warning. Things moved fast between you and Lukas, you’ve barely known him for a few weeks and were already opening your heart to him. Letting him into your mind, letting him rearrange the furniture there like he owns it. “Hey, I’m thinking of doing like a- quarterly up and outs at the company.”

“Oh, yeah. Firing people is like, 85% of why I get up in the morning.” Roman shrugs when he talks, moving to take his sunglasses off and hold them in his hand. “But, uh.. I do want to ask you about that tweet, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh the…” Lukas laughs, looks at you, back to Roman. He makes a face, sticking out his tongue to mimic the Snapchat filter on his tweet. “That one.”

“Yeah. Seriously, yes. You got like, big shit coming your way?” Rome uses his free hand to run his fingers through his hair.

“...Are you- are you asking me for material nonpublic information?” Lukas’s grin is lopsided, he’s testing the two of you, seeing how far you’re really going to go.

“Maybe. Were you trying to get your share price up by tweeting unverifiable information outside of normal disclosure channels?” You cut in, raising your eyebrows at him, tilting your head in a way a little too close to flirting. Roman smiles at that, watches you exercise your knowledge like a proud father.

Lukas’s voice is mocking, a fake sad cartoon tone coming over it. “No, you’re not allowed to do that.” He moves his hands to his eyes, pretending to wipe his tears. “So mean.”

“Do you want this deal? Are you into it… like, at all?” Roman asks next. You’ve moved a bit from your area at the pool, following Matsson as he slowly circles the water.

“Yeah, I am. I’m just a little Swedish, you know? I’m.. into equality.” He moves nonchalantly, like this deal isn’t as serious as it is. “I like getting into bed with people, but I also like to share it equally.”

“More of a merge than a takeover.” It isn’t a question, and it isn’t directed at Lukas. You turn to Roman as you say it, verbalizing what you both were thinking. Lukas just hums, doesn’t articulate a response. Even though you all know what it would be.

“Okay. We’re just… heading to Milan to lock things down with our Dad and the bankers. And the tweet- it just didn’t feel great. If you’re hoping to blow this whole thing up, just tell me, okay?” Roman’s anxiety is back, you can see it in the tense way he’s started to move, in the higher tone of his voice.

“I just want to get myself the best. Of everything.” Lukas looks at you when he says it, darts his tongue out to lick his bottom lip. Roman’s too lost in his own head to notice it, or notice the way your breath catches in your throat.

“Yeah, I fucking get that. Definlety.” Roman moves to pull out his phone, cursing under his breath when he reads a notification. “I uh- have to take a call really quickly. I’ll be in the boat, it shouldn’t take too long. Okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll give her a tour.” Lukas shrugs, sounding indifferent. Rome nods at him, then you, and quickly takes off towards the dock, already lifting the phone up to his ear as he walks.

You watch him leave, round the corner and leave your line of vision before turning to Lukas, face neutral save for a hint of a smile. He’s less composed than you, smiling broadly and staring into your eyes. He walks closer to you, wraps his arm around the small of your back.

“Wanna show me around?” You raise your eyebrows in question, slightly rocking back and forth on your feet. He sighs quietly, nods, and moves to extend an arm for you to hold.

“There’s really not much to see. Your average rich person house.” You hold his arm, walking with him into the villa as he speaks.

The interior is nice. Well, you’re sure it cost several million dollars to furnish, but that was the standard you were used to. It’s Italian inspired with a few modern elements. You take note of the high end appliances everywhere you go. A thousand dollar air purifier, a ten thousand dollar toilet, a hundred thousand dollar refrigerator. Lukas really did want the best for himself. The downstairs looks strangely perfect, like there wasn’t really anyone living there. Everything is clean and immaculate, no traces of human life. This trend continues into the upstairs, only stopping when he shows you the primary bedroom. His bedroom.

It’s simply decorated, a bed, desk, dresser. A large TV mounted on the wall across from his bed, nightstands, some artwork on the walls. There are a few large windows on the farthest side of the room, offering a view to the lake. Most things are black, or gray, with a few navy blue accents here and there. You had slipped off your shoes when walking around the house, now you let the fall to the floor from dangling on your finger. Stepping into the room, you walk until you round the bed, seeing a camping sleep matt rolled up and leaning on a wall. The sight brings a little smile to your face before you turn to Lukas’s desk, fingers grazing softly against the wood of it.

He has a Macbook laying on it, a pair of over-ear headphones sitting next to it. There’s a cup with a few pencils and pens, a box of tissues. It’s not much, but it’s something. Above his desk sit a few wall mounted bookshelves, made of the same wood. The books on them are mostly motivational, shit that he definitely hasn’t read. One thing does catch your eye though, an older coding textbook written in Swedish. It looks worn, the spine cracked and the pages wrinkled. Your fingers move to trace along the row of books, following them until the shelf ends and you meet the wall behind it.

“I like it. Very you.” You move your gaze back to Lukas, who’s been leaning in the doorway, watching you explore.

“Very me?”

“It’s exactly what I pictured.” You walk up to him as he steps inside, right at the foot of the bed, just a few inches apart. “Have you really been sleeping on a mat on the floor?”

“Yeah…” You wrap your hands around the back of his neck as his sentence trails off and he moves to grab your hips, closing the distance between you.

“Lukas, just sleep on the mattress. Your back is gonna get all fucked up.”

“Probably. I just- I don’t trust it. I want something I know is good, you know?” His reasoning makes you roll your eyes.

“It’s better than a camping mat.”

“Hey- that’s the best camping mat money can buy.”

Your hand moves to cup his face, bringing him to you and planting a light kiss on his mouth. He tries to deepen it, follows your face when you pull away, looks like a sad puppy when you deny him.

“So you haven’t used the mattress at all…?” You smirk, quirking your eyebrows teasingly.

“Not yet…” Lukas grins, his eyes traveling from yours to your lips. “Why? Do you wanna help me break it in?”

You don’t answer, just smile, roll your eyes playfully, and move away from him. You turn so your back is facing the bed, and with all the drama you can muster, flop down onto the mattress. It cushions your fall nicely, though you do get left a bit breathless and giggly. Your knees dangle off the side of the bed, feet almost grazing the ground as you kick your legs.

“It’s really not bad.” You don’t bother raising your head, just direct your words to him knowing he’ll hear. “Not the best, but definitely ‘trustworthy.’” Laughing when he sighs in response, you throw your arms up and stretch theatrically.

You feel a hand on your knee, spreading your thighs wider apart. He slots himself between your legs, moves his hand to your waist, and pulls you quickly to him. The bed is high enough that your hips meet each other roughly, a gasp escaping your mouth at the sudden pressure on your vulva. Lukas is already half hard, and making the most subtle movements to grind you perfectly against his cock.

“Lukas… Roman is just outside…” You’re already a bit breathless, still allowing him to rub against you as you speak. He leans close to you, tall frame bending at the waist to brush his lips against your ear, still keeping his hips flush to your as he moves.

“I guess we’ll have to be quick then.” He places a kiss to your jawline, starting a messy trail down your neck. Lukas pauses to nip the slope of your shoulder. “And you’ll have to be quiet.”

He lifts his head, eyes staring straight into yours, and waits for your response. Your lips are already parted, breath coming quick and cheeks flushed with desire. The lust clouds your judgment, as it always seems to do with Lukas. Impulse takes over and, with a hand threaded into his hair, you pull his mouth to yours roughly.

It’s rushed and powerful. All teeth and tongue, no time for being gentle, no time for romantics. You bite his lip, he groans into your open mouth. Your legs move around his hips, keeping his body close as he ruts against your clothed core. His movements started soft and teasing, but now he’s fully thrusting against you, rough and wanting. It feels hard and hot, has your eyes shutting and your mouth whimpering. You love being close to him like this, hearing his panting in your ear, his lips on your throat, his chest pressed to yours. But it’s not quite enough.

“Fuck Lukas, I need more.” He pulls his head from his attack on your throat, looks at you with a grin on his face.

“You need more?” You nod, a little frantically with a small hum. “Look at you, asking for things. Tell me what you want.”

You’re a bit hesitant, cheeks still red from the vulgarity of your situation. Your mouth opens and then closes again, biting your lower lip as you try to find the right words. His hand comes to your chin, fingers pressing into your cheeks as he forces your eye contact with him.

“Tell me what you want.”

“I just want to feel you- really feel you.” Honestly, you don’t know exactly what you want. You’re so needy, you can feel how uncomfortably wet you’ve gotten and just need some kind of satisfaction. “You can fuck me.”

He shakes his head, still smiling. “No, not yet. I have plans for that, it’ll be special.” His words are a little shocking, but turn you on even more.

“Please Lukas. I need you.” Your voice is barely a whisper, laced with want. The motion of his hips has stopped and you feel yourself desperately grind yourself against him for some relief. His hands move to your hips to hold you in place, releasing the grip on your chin.

“I’m not taking your virginity in a quickie where I can’t even get you naked. And you need to be able to walk after this.” He moves and pushes your dress up, exposing the lower half of your body. “Here you’ll like this.”

Your panties are soaked. His gaze moves down and he notices, gives a small chuckle, runs a finger up your clothed slit. It makes you shudder and whine deeply in your throat as a response. Hooking a finger around both sides of your panties, he pulls the fabric off with one quick motion, dropping them to the floor when he’s finished. He moves from between your thighs briefly, causing you to instinctively shut your legs. Lukas pulls down his pants then, just enough to expose his cock, hard and leaking already.

He moves back, uses a hand to gently spread your legs as the other grips the base of his cock. He’s so close, his dick hovering just above your cunt. Your eyes go wide with anticipation, a light gasp escapes from your lips. Then, Lukas moves. His hips angle downwards and, using his hand to guide his cock, he gently rubs his length over your slit. The feeling is immediately intense. It’s wet and strong and burning, and when his tip touches your clit you swear your vision goes white. You really can’t help the moan that escapes you, it’s Lukas that caused it.

“Shhh… I know, I know. But you don’t want someone to hear.” He leans over you, presses a light kiss to your mouth and grabs one of your hands. Moving your hand over your mouth, he helps you press your palm to your lips, muffling the noises coming from your lips. You nod in response, keeping your hand there when he moves his away, gripping back on to your hips to hold you in place. “Don’t want everyone to know how I’m corrupting you.”

Another moan leaves your mouth at that, luckily much quieter due to your palm. Your free hand flys down, grips over his on your hip. He keeps moving, parting your lips and spreading wetness across your pussy, hitting your clit perfectly with each thrust. A curse leaves his throat when your back begins to arch, the white hot feeling in your cunt growing fast. You can almost feel the restraint leaving his body, feel the roll of his hips getting heavier, harsher. A tear rolls down your cheek, your eyes wet with the sheer strength of this new pleasure you’re experiencing.

“Fuck, you’re doing so good, so quiet for me.” Lukas’s accent is thicker now, his head tipping back in pleasure as he ruts against you with abandon, chasing his climax. “So fucking beautiful like this.”

That’s all it really takes for you to fall apart, cumming on his cock. Your orgasm hits in a wave, making your thighs shake and eyes squeeze shut in ecstasy. You’re incredibly glad for the hand on your mouth as it muffles the high moan that leaves your lips. You don’t see him with your eyes shut, but the groans you hear let you know that Lukas is not far behind you. A few mascara stained tears run from your eyes when you open them again, your gaze being met with Lukas’s head tilted toward the ceiling, his mouth open in pleasure.

His cock moves from your cunt, positioning over your lower stomach. His hand moves, jerking himself roughly as he looks down to meet your eyes. Your hand moves from your mouth, and you sit up a bit as you reach for him, fingers coming to rest on his hip to keep him close to you. Another low curse falls from his mouth, and with a gravely groan he cums. White ropes shoot across your stomach, resting on your skin warmly. You whimper in sympathy, watching as he twitches and bucks against his hand recklessly.

Lukas’s chest rises and falls quickly, breath coming fast and deep as his orgasm washes over him. When his eyes reopen, he’s quick to pull you up to meet his mouth with a burning kiss. The kiss isn’t long, but when you pull away he rests his forehead against yours, eyes shut and breathing slowly returning to normal. You stay that way for a while, just close and quiet. A few moments pass, and when he moves to stand back up you take the time to dart your hand down and gather up some of the cum on your pelvis, licking it off your finger as you raise it to your mouth.

He quietly laughs, blissed out and smiley. “You love that, don’t you?”

“Mhm. I don’t know- ‘just makes me feel close to you.” He kisses you again, softly this time, almost proud.

“I’m making a monster. First you ask me to fuck you and now you’re swallowing my cum.” He moves to his dresser, retrieving a hand towel as you sit on the bed, careful to not let any of his spend drip onto the sheets.

“Why didn’t you fuck me?” Your head tilts as you ask. He moves to kneel in front of you, gently wiping the cum from your skin as he answers.

“I told you, I’m gonna make it special for your first time.”

“Bold of you to assume I’ll even let you be my first time, now that you’ve rejected me.” It’s playful and he knows it, grinning up at you as he moves to wipe the wetness from the inside of your thighs.

“It wasn’t a rejection, it was a postponing.” Lukas stands, quickly cleaning off before tucking himself away and turning to look for your panties. “And who else would it be? Are you cheating on me?”

“No, but I can’t cheat on you if weren’t not together.” He pauses at that, head cocking as he makes eye contact with you.

“We aren’t together?”

“You haven’t asked me!”

“I thought it was self-evident. You don’t need to ask if it’s already obvious.” Lukas stoops to grab your panties from the floor, moving to hand them to you.

You accept the fabric in an outstretched hand, setting it on the bed next to you. “Well, I would like you to ask. Make it official.”

He gives a dramatic sigh, reaches out and grabs your hands to pull you to standing. Lukas holds your hands, smiles and looks into your eyes. “Will you date me?”

You think about teasing him, making him wait, but your excitement gets the best of you and you release your answer quickly. “Yes, I will date you, Lukas Matsson.”

Your kiss is domestic and cheesy, after you separate he pulls you back into his body, rests his chin on your head for a while while he holds you close. You end up leaving your panties with him, they're still too wet to wear comfortably. Lukas helps you fix your makeup and hair, and you check to make sure your lip gloss isn’t all over his mouth (it was). He fastens your shoes back on for you, kneeling in front of you so you don’t have to bend over with your still shaky legs. He holds your hand until you reach outside and you put some space between yourselves as you enter public once more.

Roman is just finishing his call when you get back to the boat, waving at you as he quickly hangs up. You give Lukas a handshake, Rome just shouts his goodbye from a distance, and you quickly speed off again across the lake as soon as you enter the boat. Once again separated, you swear you immediately feel heavier without Lukas’s presence.

Your brother thinks the deal is fucked, he makes that clear when you’re alone again. He half blames you, half blames himself. Either way, he’s scared shitless to tell your dad about Matsson’s merge idea. So it’s a major shock when you arrive in Milan and Logan is receptive to the proposal. He praises Roman openly for once, and even commends you on your role in negotiating the deal.

But good things don’t tend to stay good for long in your family. You know something’s wrong when Logan calls you and Shiv into his office abruptly, right before your meeting with the bankers is supposed to begin. It honestly doesn’t surprise you as much as some would think to learn Roman had been sexting Gerri. You try to defend him against Shiv’s attacks, but it doesn’t do much good, not when the evidence is sitting in front of you. At the very least, you make some kind of progress covering for Gerri, reminding your dad of her loyalty.

Things are weird and fucked the next day. The night before Comfrey had texted you to let you know that Kendall was in the hospital. She wouldn’t say what happened, just that they were keeping him overnight and he was okay. You texted your siblings but everyone was skirting around the answer with you. They knew you cared about Kendall, maybe too much, and that telling you he had nearly drowned (possibly by his own doing) would set you off like a firework.

You wanted to go visit Kendall the next day, or be there when he arrived at the villa, or just do something to help him out. But he didn’t answer your calls and all the information you were given was extremely vague. You weren’t invited to Caroline’s wedding ceremony, so you planned on staying in bed and Facetiming with Lukas all day, waiting for a response from your brother. Your day starts off that way, sleeping in and chatting with your boyfriend into the late morning, but then Lukas tells you about Gojo’s market cap. You knew he was good, you knew he was doing all he could to get the market in Gojo’s favor, but you never expected it’s worth would surpass Waystar’s.

It’s no surprise that your dad ends up calling you, recruiting you to join him on a trip to Matsson’s. When he tells you he’s considering not inviting Roman, you manage to convince him to bring him too, citing his friendship with Matsson as a cause. So you head to Lake Maggiore, again, and arrive at Lukas Matsson’s villa, again. The excitement you feel when seeing him is shrouded in the anxiety of the sudden meeting.

You feel like every glance between the two of you is obvious. The way he parts his lips, the way your eyes drift across his frame, it’s all unmistakable of two lovers.

Lukas leads the three of you to an outdoor area on his grounds and when the conversation starts, his intent is clear. He didn’t tell you he wanted to buy Waystar, well he may have hinted at it, but it still feels like a bit of a betrayal. Like a shock. Even worse of a shock, Logan doesn’t immediately hate it, not in his usual way.

“Yeah. This is not happening.” The rage isn’t there behind Logan’s words. His gaze drifts to Roman, then back to Matsson. Lukas raises his eyebrows.

“Okay, I see that. Understood. But, you want to stick around? See if the old deal still has shape? Side snacks?” Logan smiles, he actually smiles, at Matsson’s offer. “You have that Israeli AI operation I might like. Maybe an asset swap sort of thing?”

“Why not.” The eye contact between Lukas and your dad is never ending. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife. “Rome, you should head back. For your mom, and everything.”

“Yeah, sure thing.” Roman looks to you, motions with his thumb in the general direction of the dock. “Do you wanna…?”

“I’m not going to the wedding. Not invited.” You offer a small smile, look to Logan for reassurance.

“We’ll catch up with you later, Romulus.”

Roman is dejected. An intruder, again. An outsider in the deal he’s worked so hard on, the deal he partially started. “Alright. Hate to miss the big nuptials! So… yeah. I’ll just go do that then…” He’s hesitant to go, pats you on the leg as he leaves, Dad on the shoulder.

They wait to start speaking again until well after he’s left, and when they do it’s straight to business. Your dad wants to sell. Lukas wants to buy. You’re the reluctant bridge between. Things move inside, to a formal dining room, and the real discussion begins. Numbers start to fly, calls get made, lawyers begin flying out. You end up doing more work than you meant to, arguing for both GoJo and Waystar. Trying desperately to keep all the men in your life happy. At the same time, you’re conflicted. You know your siblings will hate this deal, you know how badly they want to inherit the company, how hard they’ve worked for one of them to eventually be CEO.

But the thing is, you don’t hate the deal. You were never going to lead Waystar, never going to be more than the founder’s child. You’re the youngest Roy sibling, a woman, and from a different marriage than the others. There was no chance of you ever being number one, and you knew that from the day you were born. So why not sell the company? You don’t want to dedicate your entire life to this soul crushing work. At the same time, you care so much for your family, more than you do for yourself. This would wreck your siblings, they wanted Waystar more than they wanted life itself. Even if being family owned fucks you, it means the world to them.

When you finally leave Lukas’s, it’s well past the wedding ceremony, and it’s clear Dad doesn’t intend on joining the afterparty. The operation moves to Logan’s villa. The cavalry marches in, dressed in designer suits and holding briefcases stuffed with Macbooks. There’s dozens of people you’ve never even met swarming around a huge table. It doesn’t even feel real, like you’re watching a dream, or a nightmare, play out in front of you. You retire to your dads private office, curl up on a leather upholstered couch and just think. You know you should tell your siblings. Siobhan and Roman have been blowing up your phone for hours, you haven’t had the heart to answer. Your dad would kill you if you reached out. Ostracize you like Roman, or disown you like Kendall. Your brain feels like a whirlpool, your thoughts flying around enough to give you a headache. You turn to the only person you can think of.

“Hi.”

“...”

“Are you okay?” Lukas’s voice is genuinely worried, silence isn’t normal in the conversations between you two. You hear a rustling on the other line like he’s stood up.

“I don’t really know. I wish you were here.”

“What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“I feel like a traitor.”

“Why?”

“My siblings… you know they will hate this deal.” You stress the word hate, voice a little bit breathless with anxiety.

“I do.” His voice is quiet, almost whispering as he speaks to you.

“They would rather die than sell Waystar. But I-” You sigh, swallow thickly. “I almost agree with Dad. I think this is a good move for us. Not just because I’m fucking the guy who’s buying the company.”

“Well then, why do you agree?”

“If we don’t sell, we’re gonna get swallowed whole. All we have is the content, not the platform to back it up, not new technology to keep us relevant.”

“That’s all true.” Lukas’s voice gets a little louder, his sentences trailing off a bit as he prompts you to keep talking.

“But even if we had that, even if we were doing better, we were more stable…”

“You still would want to sell?” He already knows what’s on your mind. Of course he does.

“I think so… I mean, I will never be CEO. Not if we’re family owned, not if we’re owned by GoJo, never. And I don’t want to spend my life in this company, especially if I’m not running it.” Your head tips back against the wall you’re leaning on. You’re hiding away in a bathroom, your voice echoing a bit as it bounces off the marble walls. “This work… it fucking destroys people.”

“It sounds like you already know what you think.”

“But Shiv and Roman and Kendall… They want the company so badly. They’ve been prepped to run it since they were kids. Even if they kill each other for CEO, at least one of them would get what they wanted.” You’re louder now, voice still stressed but frustration peaking through.

“You need to stop wasting your life making other people happy. You would do anything for your family, and they wouldn’t do shit for you.” Lukas’s tone isn’t angry or yelling, it’s stating a fact.

“That’s not true-”

“Is it? I see you go above and beyond for them every single day, and they never spare you a second glance.” Lukas’s voice is almost pleading when he speaks next. “Think about yourself, for once. Please.”

“Thank you.” Your eyes are brimmed with tears, your fingers coming up to brush them away quickly. “I will.”

There’s a small pause before he talks again. “Are you mad I didn’t tell you about buying Waystar?” You laugh, breathlessly, at the simpleness of his question after all you’ve just talked about.

“No, I’m not mad. I was shocked…but I think it’s worn off. You’re just doing what’s best for you.”

“Yeah, yeah I am.”

“I think you’re really smart actually. If I was in your position I’d do the same thing.” You move from your stance against the wall to look in the mirror, checking to fix any smudged mascara.

“That’s what I thought. I asked myself what you would do.”

“No, you did not.”

“No, I did not. I did think about how it would affect you though.”

“Thank you for that.” It’s half sarcastic, but you know he really does care for you.

“You’re welcome.”

“I’ll talk to you later today.”

“Okay. Come visit soon.” Lukas ends like he always does, asking for your presence.

“I’ll try.”

It takes you a minute to compose yourself. Fix your hair, wipe off some of your fucked up concealer, blow your nose. You exit the bathroom, walk down the hall and down some stairs, finally arriving in front of the massive wooden doors leading to your dad’s office. Your brain is finally quieter now, thoughts forming clearer and headache fading quickly. You slip a small smile to the bodyguard, Colin, who opens the door for you to enter.

Your three siblings are there, backs facing the door as they stare down Logan, who’s just moved to press a button on the phone resting against his desk. Their heads snap to you. The door shuts behind you. Siobhan opens her mouth, but you speak before she does.

“What’s going on? When did you get here?”

“What’s going on? You know what’s going on, Dad is selling and fucking our entire lives up.” Shiv faces you, her eyes are daggers and her body is a rocket about to explode. “And you didn’t tell us.”

“No, he’s not fucking your lives up. It’s not the end of the world, Shiv.” You approach them, eyes wide and pleading.

“So you do know. You knew he was selling the company and you didn’t think ‘Hmm maybe I should tell my siblings this, you know, since they’ve spent their entire lives thinking they were going to run Waystar!’” Roman throws his hands up, his jaw is clenched and his eyes are watering.

“Do you think it would’ve made a difference?” Your voice drops, both in tone and volume. “Do you really think I have any sort of control? Any say in what happens?”

Everyone is quiet for a moment, Kendall won’t make eye contact with you. Logan is watching you intently before gazing at his other children’s faces.

“I have never, and will never, be number one. I will never have control over the company, I will never even have control over one branch of the company. I will never be CEO, I won’t even make it to CFO, because I will always be lower than you. And I will always be there for you to yell at and use and manipulate. You already fucking do!” You’re more angry than sad now, maybe it’s misdirected, but you’re too wound up to care. “For once in my life, I’m thinking about myself. And I will not let this shit, this work, destroy me like it has destroyed you.”

A few tears spill from your eyes, you don’t bother to wipe them up, just continue your eye contact with your siblings. You’re right and everyone knows it, from Gerri and Karl sitting on the couch to Logan in front of you. Shiv can’t hold your gaze anymore, she drops her eyes to the ground. Roman turns to your Dad, his eyes are wide and desperate.

“Please?” His voice is meek, barely a whisper.

“‘Please?’ You bust in here with guns, but now that you find they’ve turned to fucking sausages, you want to say ‘please?’” Logan moves from where he was half-sitting on the arm of a couch to stand in front of your siblings. “You should have trusted me.”

“Dad, why?”

“Oh you need me to tell you why? Like your sister didn’t already? But your too fucking ashamed to admit she’s right.” He begins walking to the door, past your siblings, pausing at you to put a hand on your shoulder. “Because it works. I fucking win. Now go on, go on, fuck off you nosey fucking pedestrians.”

The doors open, Logan is immediately tasked with papers to sign and business to attend to. Roman moves to Jerri, asks her something you don’t quite hear from the blood rushing in your ears, before moving back to the crowd of your siblings. Roman crumples to the floor, Kendall with his hands on his shoulders, Shiv next to them. You turn to see Tom entering, him offering you a weak smile as he passes.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Kendall.” Your voice is monotone. Ken looks up at you, opens his mouth to say something, then decides against it. Tom starts speaking to Shiv, but you don’t hear what he says, already turning to walk out the doors, to head back to your hotel suite, to head away from your family.

You stay on the phone with Lukas the rest of that night. You can’t sleep but you don’t want to be awake. He eases the pain. He says he’s proud of you. He cares more than anyone you’ve known.

When you finally fall asleep in the early morning hours, you dream of space. You’re a cosmonaut, dancing on Saturn’s rings, playing baseball with meteors. The darkness is liminal, and pure, and calm. And the constellations are breathing around you, lighting your lawless orbit. You break the trail of a comet, its fire dotting the sky like a stitch on black cloth. Venus is a stray dog, following you wherever you lead it, spinning for attention and praise. Stars flicker like faces, you can’t recognize who they are anymore.

When you touch the Earth, everything sings.

#ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction #succession #succession fanfic #alexander skarsgard #lukas matsson #lukas matsson x reader #lukas matsson x you #lukas matsson x oc #lukas matsson x ofc #lukas matsson smut #lukas matsson fic #lukas matsson fanfic #lukas matsson imagine #snow’s fics #a body of impulses #smut

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silenttale22 · 11 months

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PRETTY LIKE YOU |JJK|

IDOL!BF!Jungkook x Chubby!reader Genre: Fluff, slight angst, suggestive(at the end) Warnings: curses, past/current low self-esteem, insecurities, avoiding, reader is a lil bit stupid, some sugar daddy theme(but not really), Word count: 5k Note: Hi there! As I won't be able to post another MHBTW chapter, I don't wanna leave you without nothing soooo, here's my Gguk`s fic I wrote when 'Seven' came out. I supposed to post it much earlier but kinda lost it in my drafts <sorry>

Since you were in middle school, thinking about dating anyone seemed to you as something impossible. Always being insecure because well…you didn't look like someone who got the attention of the whole school. And yeah you could be loud and funny sometimes around your group of friends where…of course were also boys.

Handsome boys you used to have crushes on but the thing with any of them, who found their place deeper in your heart, became only a friendship and you couldn't even imagine it in a different way.

Does it break your heart? At first, sure, but with the passing time you just get used to it, bottling up the emotions and just keep explaining to yourself that this is how the world is going…if you're bigger, not really 'cute' with your behavior, and despite tight clothes you prefer the baggy ones - your chance of having a boyfriend is zero.

That is why when you finished your school education, life seemed much different. Even after all these high school or college years, it was still so hard for you to change your way of thinking and your habits of pushing yourself into a corner with doubt that you could get someone's attention…and what even more - make someone to fall for you even a bit, was lingering to you without the change.

So when one day, the principal from your department in the work office came up with the plan that you are the one - ideal person to be sent to deliver important documents to one of the biggest studios in South Korea, you never thought that everything would turn upside down in a few hours.

When you arrived, the people who were supposed to take over the documents from you must have stayed late in meetings that had been going on since morning, so you spent a good few hours sitting at the reception desk looking at the wall or at the phone, as you couldn't just left the paper in the reception. Occasionally moving your gaze to the papers you had begun to memorize.

But when, out of nowhere, a group of young men with smiles on their faces walked through the main hall where you were already sitting half-asleep, you found it difficult to take your slightly blurry gaze away from the gentle and pleasing to the eye figures.

By pure coincidence, one of them met your gaze, and as an even wider, even more, charming smile came to his lips, you felt your cheeks begin to burn through the sudden rush of emotion.

Your cold-as-usual hands quickly found their way to cool your warm - probably reddened - skin and you tried to push the brief attraction out of your head as quickly as possible when you looked down at your spilled thighs on the leather couch. You got up from it quickly, smoothing down your trousers and trying to collect quickly the documents in your folders, a number of which you had with you.

It took you a good 15 minutes to disappear into the toilet, but as you reached it you were still trying to calm the sudden euphoria that had erupted in your chest over a silly little minute exchange of glances. You felt like a childish teenager who had managed to get any interest in her object of admiration for the first time.

However, could you even call it "getting interest"? A simple exchange of eye contact, no big deal. Yet it succeeded in confusing your mind.

At that moment, your head did not necessarily overthink the whole "escape" plan with precision. Because, again - how could you have known that when, right after leaving the restrooms and exiting the corridor leading out of the room, he would be standing leaning against the wall? The one you were trying to get away from as quickly as you could.

But the boy, unfazed with dreamy eyes, waited patiently holding a few sheets of paper in his hand. Another plan come up quickly, you thought - trying to walk past him unnoticed.

Maybe this time it will work out for you?

His hand soon reached over your shoulder, making you come face to face with the most beautiful being you could ever meet.

"You dropped this getting up from the sofa" he said with a friendly smile after staring into your eyes for a moment, pulling a paper towards you that must have fallen out of your bag

"Oh, thank you," a quick nod and you were about to pass his figure when once again a slender hand covered in tiny tattoos blocked your way.

"Will there be any chance of us seeing each other again?" his question knocks you completely out of your right mind, so for a moment you stare dully into his face, not knowing if it's all a stupid joke, or if you're dreaming and your head is making up some sick scenario, or if it's all true after all..." Hello? You there?" his hand waves in front of your face, bringing you back to reality.

"I-I don't know. I don't think so," you mutter under your breath rather than answer him, but the boy without even waiting pulls out his phone with the keypad on in your direction

"Maybe then there's a chance to get your phone number and know your name?" You can't resist his smile and his deer eyes begging for any kind of contact so you tap a few numbers into his mobile phone, saying also your name, and the boy almost with jumps wanted to leave your figure when this time it was you who stopped him with your hand

“But, wait! Can I at least know your name or something?"

"Oh, right. Sorry,” he chuckled quietly “I'm Jeongguk."

“Nice to meet you then” You smiled at him and even your constant insecurities disappeared for a second.

And from day one the two of you used to text almost all the time. It was hard for you to take your phone away sometimes because it kept buzzing every freaking time.

At first, you were excited because damn, he was still interested in you. You felt like you never did earlier. Being especially happy that you're not being judged by the way you look.

It seemed as the both of you had so many topics and it more than once made your heart flutter. You finally met someone who understood the rules of your favorite games or was eager to learn the new ones just because he wanted to know more about the things you like. And you could listen to him talking about new songs, choreographies, or when it was enough for his career being mesmerized by the sound of his voice and excited about every little thing…It happened that you even listened to the latest news from the motorization world, which Jeongguk seemed really fascinated by.

And it made you really happy.

Happy that you already have someone like that. Even if it was only for a while, only by phone…because what's the point in planning any meeting if you know very well that it will only bring the end of this friendship forward? Your head was always filled with this damn lack of confidence, so the thinking that maybe it would be better to end things sooner will be better.

You couldn't imagine the picture of yourself right next to Jungkook, you just couldn't.

It's hard to think about the possibility that people won't judge you…and what's even worse…that they can judge Jungkook, why would he ever suffer in any way because of your looks?

And yeah, despite every nice feeling you had inside, after a while, for a person like you - not used to this kind of constant attention, especially from someone like Jeongguk…his messages started to irritate you a little bit. Even if they still made you happy at some point, something seemed not right. He seemed clingy to you, in some way maybe even annoying…and with passing time it became too much.

Or you just thought it was too much…

That's why at first your phone was in constant silence mode, often ignoring the texts all along, pretending that you're busy…with work, with home stuff, with everything. Of course, sometimes you answer, from time to time trying to swallow down the enthusiasm filling you inside. Especially trying to calm down so often pounding heart inside your chest when a boy comes up online every freaking time when you send the shortest answers you could come up with. You've been sometimes answering with a dot or...emoji only, swallowing down the hard knot tightening inside your throat.

Eventually, you stopped answering at all. Knowing that he will just stop after some time because yeah, you're nothing special. Easy to replace. And you really thought that you were right when the phone stopped buzzing at every possible moment.

You thought that you're life would be filled with the same old silence as earlier.

However, the moment when the messages stopped popping up, an even heavier feeling dropped onto your chest. A silly longing for someone you barely knew began to embrace you with tight arms, and at certain moments you've been kind of cursing yourself a little. Because why do you feel so bad about the decision you made on your own. You may have made it under the influence of negative emotions flooding your head, but it was still yours.

With each growing feeling of guilt in your chest, you were soon reminded of who you were. What do you look like with your extra back rolls, extra scars, or stretch marks from growing too fast in some places. You run your hands over your cellulite-covered thighs and guilt turns to self-disgust. And then you realize how you sometimes behave, often interested in 'what's masculine', not really keeping your nose in fashion magazines or surfing the internet to find sales on new beauty products.

So the mere fact that the boy let it go shouldn't surprise you.

And yet it did hurt a little.

It was one of the next days when your phone was lying without any sounds in your bag. You were leaving the office late at night, and through an intense week at work and the previous weekend without sleep, your body was heavier than bags filled with grain. Your eyes were closing by themselves through being irritated by the light, so when you left the building lit by fake lighting, you felt quite relieved.

When you closed them for a short moment, you felt a sense of comfort. As you took one step after another with your eyes closed, you hit an unfamiliar object with a stronger impact. But it was softer than a pole, and yet was still hard and delicate to the touch under your fingertips. Only after a moment did you realize that it was the material of someone's shirt, and a sudden embarrassment crashed all over you. You jumped away quickly almost losing your balance, but strong hands grabbed you by the waist again pulling you close in a just as smooth manner.

"Am I that scary?" Your eyes widen as you hear the familiar voice that has lulled you to sleep more than once through your headphones, and your gaze drops to the tattooed hand clutching tightly at the fabric of your shirt.

"I-no, I mean, you.." is what you began to lose yourself in your own words through which you eventually let out only an annoyed huff, but the familiar hand begins to caress you with a thumb where it still safely keeps you from falling.

You feel the warmth spreading from this place and for a brief moment you feel so good, so different...but the thought that he's only doing this out of pity, and inside he squirms with disgust because has to hold someone like you, makes you want to push his hand away and get as far away from here as possible.

“I thought something bad had happened. You stopped responding so suddenly” you swallowed saliva heavily, avoiding his gaze, hearing that worried tone.

Because you knew that if you put an eye on his face, not only would the sense of guilt eat you up, but the fear that the lingering self-sense of inferiority would grip you even tighter, cutting off your access to oxygen. There was always this agonizing dread inside, every time you found yourself surrounded by pretty people. And Jeongguk in special was a pretty person. A person who could nevertheless intimidate the other one.

“I just simply wanted to get out of the way quicker,” you muttered, feeling that it wouldn't do any good at all, but then again, sooner or later the boy would get bored anyway, right?

There was no point in dragging this out.

“What the hell? Getting out of the way? What are you talking about?" this time you laughed meekly at his tone of voice, full of wonder, perhaps in the full sense of sadness.

He must have been not only a good singer but also an actor

“Jeongguk I know how I look. And it was really nice of you to, like uh, that you wanted to... talk to someone like me, but I don't need attention out of pity,” you said, finding the courage to look him straight in the eye.

And you soon regretted it, as the sparkling gaze scanned your face with all possible stars. A knot tightened in your stomach by the way with which Jeongguk looked at you with a twinge.

"Did you actually think my messages were...pity?" The boy tried once again to look you in the eye, but this time you avoided that look at all costs "I barely have time to look at my phone, and even more rarely I look at the messages.. but with you I did because I wanted to. I wanted to get to know you and with each another conversation I wanted even more"

"But, why?"

"Because you caught my eye, and well, now I can even say that I like you. Even if you played with my feelings a little. I wanted to get your attention at all costs. I wished that all the planned meetings were going to happen. Because I found in you someone who understands me. Who isn't just looking to get laid for my money." your brow furrowed, still feeling an uncomfortable tightness in your chest

"It doesn't make sense."

'Maybe for you. It makes a lot of sense to me, so if you doubt so much that my care and attention...Is caused by genuine affection, then let me prove it''

"Huh? What do you mean"

"I want a chance from you. I want to stay by your side until you kick me out yourself. There won't be a day you're disappointed in me. Every day of the week, every month...I'll do anything to make you feel good about me. Break my heart if you want to, but for now, let me be with you."

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And from that day on, your heart didn't stop beating faster for Jeongguk even for a moment, and just like he said, he really did. There wasn't a day that the smile on your lips wasn't dancing because of him.

You can't lie, it was hard for you to get used to him at first. It was very often that your boy would shower you with some kind of gifts with every single meeting. As he couldn't understand that his time was completely enough for you.

That for you, it was enough to hold his hand in yours. To feel his fingers touching you softly when the two of you were out, assuring that he was right here. Staying up late at night, when he fell asleep tired on your tights (because it's the most comfortable pillow ever) just to watch his relaxed face and stroke his hair gently as he pouts adorably then.

It was enough for you to watch him playing on the console, pretending that you're reading a book behind his back, sometimes even knowing the plot of the game better than he does and helping him with quests. That's why, from time to time, he was pushing his head back and catching you staring so both of you giggled at the end.

It was enough to just have him. Nothing more was needed.

But even if Jeongguk knew that very well, because that was one of the reasons he fell for you more and more, he wanted to spoil you. Wanted to give you everything as he promised. And sometimes it was hard for him, to buy you something that reminded of you so so much, just to be scolded by his girlfriend as you never really wanted this gift. This expensive gifts, because when he came home one day with handmade paper flowers for 'his beautiful girl', your face lit up and you were about to cry.

Because that was one of the most genuine things someone did to you. He spends time making these flowers…thinking about you all the time while doing it. It made your heart flutter. Most of the things connected with this boy did.

"I don't want your money Jungkook, so please stop with these expensive gifts," you said once, as he came home with another necklace for you

"That my love, so just accept it" he huffed with a pout

"Koo, it's too much. You have to stop buying me stuff. I love it but I love you more, okay?" your hand gently brushed his cheek as he whined quietly

"But I want my baby to be happy"

"And I am more than happy when I'm with you Bun"

But does it change anything?

Yea, for a week so you could have another damn gift. And as time passed, you kind of got used to it. You knew that this is just one of the ways Jungkook showed his affection, but sometimes you wished to snap his head off because damn it feels so much like you'd have a sugar daddy or something like that. But in that case…it was enough that you're just here with him.

Promising your boy that he's not letting you down.

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"Gguk," you said when your boy with a smile came inside the room hiding something behind his back when you've been lying down on a couch.

As he didn't even answer, you closed your eyes with a loud huff as a sign of being ignored and tried to play cool as his heavy steps could be heard around the apartment. Your nose twitched as it was reached by the faint scent of his cotton perfume. And this time you heard giggles coming closer but you tried to brush it off just like Jungkook did and fight with a smile dancing on your lips.

Quiet music played from the TV so you could relax after a whole day in the office, where never-ending phone calls were so often ripping your head apart. Not going to mention filling out all of the boring documents, every time the same, and all it did was hurt your eyes. But it was your job. Even if you couldn't bear it sometimes.

That's why you needed this calm time at home. When your head could finally rest. Where you could change your formal clothes into a big Jungkook hoodie and sniff it every time when the unknown stress lingers on you. But as much as you needed it, you needed your boyfriend's arms around you too.

And as for your wish to be fulfilled, a shadow falls on you, and as eyes open wide, his face hovers over. Now, miserably losing the fight, when a smile appears on your lips. And firstly boy hovers even more over you, brushing gently your hair so after that a soft peck lands on your forehead.

But as he hears your giggle, making his heart go crazy, Jungkook can kiss it more than once, making you laugh. And he'd love to do that over and over again just to make you happy like that. And yeah, he's only starting as he slowly goes down with warm lips, touching your cheeks and lips making you giggle again and again as he tries to reach your face fighting with the couch backrest. Often losing his balance and falling a little bit stronger on you.

"Hello to you, my pretty Sunshine," he said pinching your cheek, and finally only looked at you from a small distance

"Hi Bun, tired?" you asked seeing his a little miserable face but he only sent a small nod.

"I swear, you look the prettiest in my clothes" you laughed, as he began to play with the strings of the hoodie

"How the recordings are going?" he smiled now, still standing behind the backrest hiding one of his hands behind his back

"Good, it was good. But I missed you sooo...."

"Googie" you chuckled when he took his hidden hand to see the bouquet of sunflowers "Aish, boy I told you to stop," you said but couldn't resist seeing him pout so you got up to peck his lips with a smile and a quiet thank you.

You took flowers from him to put them into the water but it wouldn't be a normal day if Jungkook's arms weren't wrapped around you so you were walking with extra weight...but what a sweet weight.

"You know, I was there and they are just as pretty as you so, I had to."

"Yea, yea. You had to," you rolled your eyes playfully just to be gently stabbed with his fingers, which made you whine as you tried to free yourself from his arms

"You not going, I missed you"

"Gguk, you need to eat"

"'m not hungry"

"Yeah, and later the fridge will be empty." you turned around still in his embrace, and brushed your fingers through his long hair falling on his forehead "Put your ass on the chair"

"But..." he begins with a pout

"You can sing for me" and knowing that this will bring a smile to his face again, arms around your waist loosen to let you go as the melodic voice of your boyfriend filled the apartment with random songs interrupting the giggles from time to time when you tried to dance to the melody he was making.

Even if at first you thought the boy would actually listen to you and just keep watching the whole time, Jeongguk changed your mind quite quickly.

After a couple of minutes or so, he was standing right next to you, asking meekly what he could help you with. Oh, and just try to get him out of the kitchen...his body would hover quickly over yours and a low whine with tiny kisses would escape his lips. So this time too, you let the boy peel the vegetables or just stir the noodles every now and then when you really needed to focus on the recipe.

And maybe in front of him, you pretended to be annoyed a lot, or even angry that he was circling around under your feet stealing your kisses, or tickling you gently when he found an opportunity to go behind your back. But you both knew that if you really were you wouldn't have that small smile on your face, and you yourself wouldn't sometimes reach out to him with the gentle touch on his arms.

"As you already know... we're in the middle of shooting a video for that song you heard" he begins, as the two of you sat finally down to eat

"Seven days a week, or something like that, right?" the boy snorts with laughter as you lift your head from above your plate, a bit dirty at the corners of your mouth, that Jeongguk doesn't hesitate to brush clean

"Mhm, precisely correct"

'Mm, that's good, right? You said it's going good”

"Yeah but, you know…as the lyrics say…" your facial expression changes for a short while and you quickly try to mask the shadow of worry with a small smile.

"There's someone with you in the music video, right?" he nods quickly, and a hum leaves your lips.

"Yeah, a girl" you chuckle, recognizing the tone of his voice. Knowing that he's already anxious about this chat.

"Well, looking at the words in the song that's the whole point, am I wrong? And I heard something from people when I've been last time bringing you cookies, so yeah…we can say I knew"

"The cookies were from you?!" You rolled eyes and tried to joke some more about that only to push away the uneasy feeling sitting hard on your chest.

You really didn't want Jungkook to be extra worried about your stupid growing anxiety at this point, so you wanted to play it cool. And it wasn't even along the lines of you being angry at him. It's just simply the fact that a slim, beautiful actress has to spend so much time with him face to face concerned you because it's not hard to fall in love with pretty people.

For as long as you have been with Jeongguk as your boyfriend, there has never been a time when you doubted his feelings. Whenever a shadow of uncertainty ran across your face, it was soon caught and soothed with tender gestures, which the idol lavished you with. But what could you do, that habits from the past so easily returned to you?

"Sun, I know you. And I know you can be…" almost as if he knew what kind of thoughts were running over your head. The tattooed hand quickly grabs yours, doing circles with the knuckle on it,

"I'm fine Gguk, don't worry' bout me. Just do a great job as you always do. It's fine, I promise." You send a smile and continue eating. "Hope Hybe found this actress to be the prettiest one so ARMY could be happy" you added, feeling his eyes on you

"Then you should be the one starring in it" You rolled eyes again, and sent a quick look at him to see his shiny but nervous eyes

"Bun, I said it's okay"

"But you're sad."

"No, I'm not" you cut it, as you continued to eat your food, ignoring his eyes on you.

And of course…he huffed like the offended child, always knowing better so the rest of the dinner was silent.

"You coming lie down with me?" a question fell from your lips, as the dishes were put into the dishwasher and both of you headed to the bedroom.

"Can I?" He asked, making you to look at him with disbelieve

"Better question, why wouldn't you? Thought I'd feel the strong arms of my man this evening" and his face lit up immediately but as quickly is felt sad again.

"I let you down" he mumbled, and your happy expression fell down

"What?"

"With m/v" pout decorated his lips again, and the sadness overcame you again. The soft sight left your lips, as hand reached to hold his.

"Oh, Googie. What are you talking about? I told you I'm fine. Of course, it will be a bit hard for me to know that my pretty boy is recording with some pretty girl, but you never let me down. I trust you, okay? Don't even say that you let me down ever again."

You came closer to him and grabbed his pouty face in hands to squish it adorably and kiss the sadly twisted lips. Your eyes met and again you could see the small stars shining inside his espresso-brown ones.

"I love you" words came out as you nuzzled nose with his.

And it was enough for Jungkook to pick you up just to fall together on the bed a minute later so he could hide his head in your neck, slipping his hand through the hoodie to stroke your belly gently with his fingers. Squishing the skin a little bit harder from time to time, just to massage it after it.

"Damn you're much better than this stress relieving toys," boy said, after squishing your skin one more time

"'sxuse me?" you gasped with a rough voice, looking down at his hidden face, feeling his hands freeze on your belly. You were about to snap his hand off but he was quick to hold you tighter and look at your face.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it in the negative way you probably thought. I mean that your presence soothes me down, and just laying like that means everything to me" he explained fast, and you caught hardly anything but as Jungkook's hand again began to caress skin, a soft huff left your lips

"Yea, yea…" you murmured, feeling his eyes on you

"And the fact that I'm freaking addicted to your skin its the other point" you groaned, trying to hide face into the sheets but as a laugh left Jeongguk's lips, you couldn't not look at his face, as the wrinkles decorated his small nose making you leap with joy inside.

"So…" he began again, making you look down at his face now pressed to your boobs. Your fingers were playing with dark, messy hair and a hum encouraged him to speak his mind "Should I talk to PDnim and get you to the M/v?"

"Googie..." you giggled as he rubbed down his nose onto your chest and looked at you with doe eyes

"What? The lyrics will match better. Your waist is the only one I kiss, and your lines are the only ones I wanna trace" you snored at his words, but couldn't deny it didn't make everything inside explode with an amazing feeling connected to love and care.

"Yeah, and I hope I'm the only one you leave with afterglow" you pondered quietly, so the giggle came to ears as an answer

"Wanna check?" his brow snapped as he came even closer to your face, and rubbed his nose softly on yours

"Maybe?" you smirked and it was enough for him, as rosy lips peck your skin with tiny kisses, with each successive one assuring how important you are to him.

#bts fluff #bts imagine #bts angst #jungkook imagine #bts x chubby reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook x chubby reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jeon jungkook

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