#happy new year sorry ive been gone so long :')

[kowroo]

big bad woof

[allforhee]

— 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐒! (ONESHOT) | LEE HEESEUNG

୨୧ pairing — secretary-general!lee heeseung x delegate!fem!reader

synopsis: decelis high's academic weapon, future valedictorian, model un prodigy especially in the crisis council, and top-notch secretary-general of the mun club, lee heeseung has it all. from earning constant "best delegate-s" left and right, no one dared to go against his stances in any debate. until a student like you transfers into decelis high. as a soon graduating senior, you were a newbie to press. but with your endless love for writing, you'd managed to steal the hearts of your peers. it was your first mun, and you didn't expect much. but when heeseung finds out about an article you've wrote about his arrogant performance in a recent committee session, he is set to strike you down.

୨୧ genre — kinda angsty but with happy ending, high school au, secgen/crisis delegate!heeseung x press delegate!reader, academic rivals to lovers, dumbasses in denial, a brief moment of rivals in public but lovers in secret, one sided rivalry

୨୧ warnings — a lot of model un terms (hope you guys can understand), cursing, hurt no comfort, heeseung highkey hates reader, reader is a bit feisty and could care less but she lowkey has parental issues, featuring all the other enhypen members, aespa's winter aka minjeong, txt's yeonjun and beomgyu, stray kids’ i.n, gidle's shuhua, and ive's wonyoung, one bed trope, forced proximity

୨୧ word count — 13.3k (not proofread, but will slowly edit/make changes to tiny minor mistakes found)

୨୧ author's note — dear readers, i'm back from a long overdue hiatus with a new layout and theme! this fic is long as HELL i didn't expect it to reach this long omg. i also changed up a couple details so it will be quite different from the teaser! i’m so sorry for the long overdue wait, senior year of high school has been so hectic, and i’ve been finally able to finish this so enjoy :) omg holy shit y’all are finally reading my full length fic i’ve been harboring since what? february?

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 had it all.

the walls of his room were littered with delegate lanyards from conferences across the globe, "best delegate" certificates framed all over his house (and a couple crumpled up inside his desk to fit the space), and a collection of trophies stood in every nook and cranny.

no one at decelis high dared to go against his stance. whenever it was, whether it was a moderated caucus or unmoderated, he'd always have his country or character's placard raised high, ready to speak, or leading whatever bloc was being formed.

there was no doubt that no one had ever beat him. it was no doubt that he was decelis high's mun club's secretary-general, and those who chose to go against him either got crushed in fear or knew when to step back.

even with his "best delegate" status, he wouldn't have gone far without his best mates, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, and park sunghoon.

park jongseong or jay, most known for his cold stares in the debate room, ready to make a delegate tremble, would always chair crisis. he was decelis high's deputy secretary-general alongside heeseung. and although being heeseung's best mate, he never favored him when it came to awarding. it's just that he was naturally talented.

sim jaeyun, known for his popular slogan around the school; "jake it till you make it!", was the strongest when it came to knowing what a country or character believed in. his research skills were like a pirate on the hunt for lost treasure, he had all the facts, the data, and the proof to back up any stance. whatever heeseung needed to know, jake already had his back.

and park sunghoon. even though he was the quiet one of the bunch, his position papers never ceased to appeal to any chair. even if he wasn't as strong in speaking out during committee sessions, his fingers were his weapon. the guys would always ask him why'd he chair press and not join in the heat with them, he'd always answer with "my words are stronger than my actions." where jay would always respond with "isn't that the other way around bud?"

the four were unstoppable when it came to model un. lee heeseung was unstoppable. he was. until you came along.

you were quiet at first. everyone just saw you as the new girl who transferred for her senior year. nobody cared. until decelis high's annual mun conference, which happened to take place a couple weeks after the first day of school.

students from all over the country gathered at decelis high once a year to join in on the fun. various councils were presented at decelis mun, from heeseung's favorite council, crisis, and multiple others like unhrc, who, unsc, disec, unicef, and your favorite, press.

without a doubt, you registered yourself for press, opting that you didn't have the guts to join any other council. you feared you'd tremble listening to another delegate question your stances and ideologies.

your parents would always encourage your writing. as a child, you loved to write little imaginary stories about your life as a princess. writing stories about the love you've seen in your parents, you were set to write a book. but when your mom passed away a few weeks before your senior year of high school, and your dad constantly traveling for work, you had resorted yourself to watching the news all summer long, spiking your interest in being a journalist, where all you had to do was report whatever was going on, spit out what had to be said, and done. you didn't need to think long and hard on what your character was supposed to do next to support the storyline, no opinions, no biases.

as you stepped into your assigned council's room, you felt a gush of wind. the nervousness had gotten to you more, seeing all the socially bright journalists with their laptops open and chatting amongst each other happily.

"hi! you're a new face! oh and you're cnn! me and you will be best buddies! bbc here!" a girl squeals, she has a bright smile and a oh-so friendly demeanor. no doubt a popular trait amongst the press council.

"minjeong! don't scare her off. we're so sorry, she sometimes comes off a bit too much to new people. i'm wonyoung, the co-chair for press." she introduces herself.

"oh, hello. i'm y/n. i just transferred to decelis this year. it's my first time at press." you smile. you lost all your socialite cheerfulness over the summer, but meeting minjeong and wonyoung felt like you've been recharged. "oh and i'm the journalist for cnn?"

the girls take a glance at your nametag, examining you, before wonyoung cuts, "first time? don't worry sweetheart, we'll tell you all about it! right hoonie?"

a tall figure walks up to the three of you, no doubt a intimidating face. "y/n right? i'm sunghoon, the chair for press." he asks.

"yes yes this is her! oh we've got to tell her all about press! first timer alert!" wonyoung beams, before entangling her hand with sunghoon's. there was no doubt that the two were a couple.

"ugh, okay you two cut it off! we're journalists, we gotta be professional!" minjeong argues, playfully slapping wonyoung's arm, causing her to let go of sunghoon's.

at first, you had no idea what you were stepping into. but when chair sunghoon welcomed you to press with his icy-blue eyes and quiet demeanor, the other journalists supporting each other when it came to writing their articles, you felt right at home.

it didn't feel like it, but two days of endless debates went on, countries arguing left and right, and articles written on the current hot topic. the tension was surely rising, and your fingers were tired.

you were glad it was all over.

at every post-conference social, before awards were handed out, the articles the journalists from press wrote would be released to the conference for the other delegates to read. besides their usual gossip box, the articles the press wrote were always the fuel to the fire.

one article stuck up to heeseung. it read; "secretary-general heeseung's love for crisis interferes chair jongseong's chairing process, now who's really chairing crisis?"

heeseung swore to himself that he's never seen a girl like you. so quiet yet so powerful in her writing. hearing rumors that you've only just recently transferred to decelis high. even sunghoon himself was surprised to meet a talented journalist like you, a first-timer at press.

"it was her first time?" heeseung protested, "i mean- she's so quiet and reserved, if she had been doing press for years, i wouldn't be surprised. but this is her first time?!"

"what do you mean she's quiet? look at hoon, he never says a word in comses, but look at him chairing press. and i would never mind you tagging along in crisis, you always give out good insights." jay interrupts his thoughts.

heeseung complains, "i understand that, but her innocent face says nothing to what she wrote about me!"

"her articles were critical. they were precise and to the point. there was never a single weak spot in her articles. i think she's gonna make a run for my position." sunghoon defends.

"it's just one article hee, it won't affect your entire track record anyways." jake compliments, giving him a pat on the back.

heeseung believed what jake said was true. he did have an outstanding track record. "best delegate"s here and there, one silly little article wouldn't ruin his entire reputation.

as the clock strikes seven, social night was slowly coming to a close. decelis high's third annual mun was coming to an end. all that was left was to hand out the awards.

heeseung made his secretary-general speech as usual, a couple thank you-s here and there, before he handed it over to the chairs to announce the awards.

as he was walking down the stage, he felt a couple stares from mostly the press council linger. fixing his tie, he shook it off before taking a seat in the front row.

awards were handed, from best position papers, verbal commendations, honorable mentions, most outstanding delegates, and of course, best delegates.

the press council was saved for last. sunghoon asked heeseung if he could be given more time to rethink his options for the awards, and as his best mate, he let him. in reality, sunghoon didn't need time to rethink his options. he and wonyoung knew who was going to win best journalist. sunghoon just wanted to save the best for last.

when heeseung hears sunghoon's announcement for best journalist, it clicks.

"and the press council's best journalist award goes to none other than... l/n y/n!"

cheers could be heard from across the conference room. minjeong practically jumping on you when they heard your name mentioned. you rushed to the stage with a red face and a still shocked reaction, receiving the certificate along with the medal. wonyoung gave you the biggest bear hug known to man, whilst sunghoon gave you a firm handshake.

you felt the cameras flashing at you, taking pictures from what felt like every single angle. unbeknownst to you, heeseung was glaring at you from the front row.

best journalist. best journalist? his mind was running all over the place. how could he? how could sunghoon, his best friend, let such a writer like you, who wrote a devious article about him, win best delegate?

a single glance at the other delegates of the press council only angered him more. amongst them were laughs and snickers. he swore he heard a journalist say; "looks like mister secgen is upseeet!" but decelis mun only happened once a year. he wouldn't have the need to care about you every other day.

or so he thought.

heeseung felt like you were everywhere. at every lunch break, you were always sitting across his and the boys' table, laughing at nonsense with yunjin and wonyoung. during free periods, you'd be at the library, hunched over your laptop or head deep in a book. and at mun club, you just had to be there.

he hated that you were gifted like him. he hated that his friends favored you. he hated that sunghoon would always send you to their rival school's muns to participate in their press councils. he hated that you always won. he hated that you were clouding his mind every single day.

you hadn't but uttered a single "thank you," to lee heeseung. as decelis high's secretary-general, you didn't think he'd care about you. you were just a writer. you had no strength in the debate field, no reason for lee heeseung to care. but why was he being so cold?

it started when you applied for the harvard model congress. you were ecstatic to find out you'd be attending the conference. obviously, you told minjeong and wonyoung all about it. even striking up small talk with sunghoon.

"that's amazing y/n. i mean, harvard model congress? that's big!" his tooth-rotting smile bringing a cheerful mood.

"you went from winning best journalist in schools across the state to varsity level in just a few months!" minjeong squeals, as she hugs you. you were really lucky to have such caring best friends.

laughing along in the mun club room, you could feel heeseung's glare from his desk. headphones on and focused onto his laptop screen, you felt a strange feeling resonating off of him.

heeseung was fuming. the entire club applied for harvard model congress. heeseung got in. his mates did. and of course, you also did.

it was supposed to be a three day long weekend with his mates full of debate, laughter, awards, and getting drunk on social nights. but no. you and your friends would be there too.

heeseung didn't understand why everyone was so trusting of you so easily.

even jay, was friendly with you. "well y/n, i think you're going to make a run for hee's job!"

wonyoung rolls her eyes at jay. "he should be scared. you've rose up through the ranks like jake's receeding hairline."

"hey! my hair is perfectly fine, thank you!" jake cuts, huffing at the ridiculous comment about his hair.

"yo hee! we gotta work out the letter to the school so we can get a few days off. come over here, you look like you're burning holes into your laptop!" jay chuckles, receiving a smack on the arm from jake.

a quick but surprising slam! from heeseung's laptop emitted a low echo throughout the room. followed by a ruffling of him throwing his decelis almameter over his shoulder, and another loud slam! of the mun club room's door. lee heeseung just stormed out.

"oof, what's got into him?" minjeong asks, her face contorting into an anxious look.

"i don't fucking know, he's been at it since decelis' annual mun. throwing temper tantrums left and right." jay sighs, concerned for his best friend.

"well i guess that temper is living up to my article." you suggest, letting out a huff and a subtle eyeroll.

sunghoon takes a deep breath before realization hits. "now that i think of it, he's been at it since you've joined our core team." while he points at you.

"what does that have to do with me? i didn't do shit. all i do is sit, join muns, write, and win awards for us. would he rather i'd be getting verbal commendations instead?" you sigh. you've done nothing but bring pride to decelis high's reputation.

wonyoung laughs, patting you on the back. "it's not about winning verbcom or bestdel, it's about heeseung finally finding his match."

"exactly! he's gone on and on about constantly winning at every mun. he's always complained about needing more of a challenge. and no shit he's been jealous of your achievements." minjeong pipes in.

"that's ridiculous. i don't understand crisis as much as he does, i'm just a journalist on the press council! he's basically just being an ass to me, that's all." you confessed, you and heeseung were basically on different levels. he was secgen and lover of crisis councils, whilst you were just one of the head journalists and co-editors of the press division.

"maybe he likes you? i don't know!" jake squeals, lifting his shoulders in question. jay and sunghoon gives him a slap on the shoulder each, a glaring stare between the three.

"no no, lee heeseung is a cold-hearted son of a bitch with an ego to feed every other day, there's no way he can feel shit." minjeong debates, a hint of anger in her voice.

"woah girl, what's got you mad? i get you two grew up together but that's a lot to say about heeseung." wonyoung asks her.

"i know it's a long story, but y/n deserves to know. right?" minjeong asks, waiting for you to nod to continue. "every single day of my life, i was my parents' star girl. i love my parents for supporting me. but ever since heeseung moved in next door, i was demoted from best girl in the neighborhood to second best to heeseung. ever since we were eight, heeseung didn't like to lose. to a boy he'd be a good sport. but when he lost to me in a mere storytelling competition, he'd throw a tantrum. that's heeseung to me. he's nothing but an egotistical ass who has to win everything."

you sigh, hearing minjeong’s words. "and you know what y/n?" she continues, "he's never lost it since we were 13. and you, y/n, have officially made him lose his mind. again."

this year's harvard model congress was held at seoul national university, the dream university of many korean students. the seven of you stayed at a hotel nearby, settling in.

sunghoon picks up the keycards at the check-in counter, "okay so there's three rooms in total, the girls are sharing, me and jake are in one room, which leaves heeseung and jay—"

"i'm sorry sir," the hotel staff interrupts him, "but the rooms are already divided by the hotel and cannot be changed. it says here, room 745 is for miss kim and miss yang, room 746 is for mister park, mister sim, and the other mister park— mister jongseong, and room 777 is for—"

"great. thank you. alright, let's settle in and get ready for opening night." heeseung sighs, grabbing his suitcase and your shared room's keycards before heading to the elevators. you gave the rest of the group a shaky smile before following heeseung.

the moment you two entered the lift, and as heeseung tapped the keycard and pressing the button for the seventh floor, you could feel the tension.

as the lift begins to move upwards, heeseung lets out a sigh. "look, l/n. we're sharing a room by casuality, so don't make it a big deal."

you huff shakily, "a big deal? you're the one who's been avoiding me all year! i barely disturb you and all i do is win awards for decelis. what else do you want from me?" your voice slowly getting angrier.

as heeseung opens his mouth to answer, the lift comes to a halt as its doors open, signaling that they've reached the seventh floor.

heeseung holds the lift doors open, so you can exit it with ease. you were surprised with this gesture. coming from him who could care less about your presence, you were baffled.

as you both reach at your hotel room, heeseung gave you one of the three keycards given before tapping his at the hotel room's door.

and as if your romance stories came to life, you spotted an oh-so familiar trope sitting in the middle of your hotel room. there was only one king-sized bed.

"shut the front door." you sighed, looking at the clear situation in front of you.

heeseung entered behind you, "i clearly have, what are you talking abou—"

"no dumbass, it was a metaphor. i'm talking about this." you exclaimed, pointing your finger at the bed.

"great. i'll call up room service and get this sorted—"

"no it's fine, it'll be too much of a hassle and social night is in two hours. besides, we're civil adults, and we're here for only two nights. we can bear 72 hours living through this stupid one bed trope."

"fine. just so you know i'm taking the left side."

heeseung dropped his bag near his side, as he was trying his best to keep his composure. sharing a room with you was bad enough (that's what he keeps telling himself), but a bed as well? he'd rather win verbal commendation than share a bed with you.

you were unpacking your necessities before you decided to break the ice. "heeseung just so you know—"

but before you could finish, heeseung was already out the door. before the door closed, you could hear a mere; "i'll go down for social night. you do you." and a click! of the door.

you scanned the room that was once filled with such tension, spotting your room keycard on the bedside table.

you took off your sweater and switched to something a bit classier for social night, changing to a blood red dress you had packed to match harvard's colors. minjeong and wonyoung had helped you choose it a couple days prior, the conversation reappearing in your mind.

"harvard's got nothing on you with that dress! watch out best journalist!" minjeong hypes you up as you're trying it on in the changing room.

"are you sure it's not a bit too much?" you questioned, feeling insecure in the dress.

"too much? my guess is heeseung would drop dead seeing you in that dress. after all, he is in love with you." wonyoung giggles, which earns her a slap on her arm from winter.

"just own it y/n. maybe layer it with a leather jacket if you get cold?" minjeong suggests. you look at yourself in the mirror once more. maybe this would be the turning point between you and heeseung's rivalry. maybe he'd look at you and decide that he no longer hated you and instead loved y— no. enough of those thoughts.

as you touched up your makeup from earlier this morning, you headed out to find wonyoung and minjeong waiting at the lobby.

"there you are— oh that dress looks, damn!" minjeong exclaims, covering her mouth with her hand to hide the utter shock.

"i just know heeseung's going to gape at that dre—" before wonyoung could finish her sentence, she earns a smack on her arm from minjeong. "ow minie! i don't want my arm to be black and blue at social night! which starts in... thirty minutes. we should get to campus and fill in our registrations so we're set."

opening night was a blast. harvard model congress knew how to throw a goddamn banger of a opening night.

there were so many things to see. a karaoke booth, a photobooth station, a merch station, even a snack booth filled to the brim with various snacks and drinks.

after receiving your lanyards and a couple papers where you'd find your assigned councils for the next day, you, wonyoung, and minjeong, were set to let lose one last time before you were head deep into your laptops, writing articles for the next three days.

entering the room littered with decorations and other delegates, you and the girls entered the ballroom hand in hand, in awe with the decor.

wonyoung spotted the boys immediately, already saving a table for the seven of you. the three of you walked to the table, which had name plates for all your names. wonyoung next to sunghoon, jay next to jake, minjeong on your right next to you, and heeseung on your left.

sitting at the assigned seats and listening to the opening remarks by harvard model congress' secretary-general, the food was served and you all dug in.

although this was only the first of two social nights, you and the girls had to make the best of it. from abusing the “free photobooths!” booth, and filling the room with echoes of musical ballads, your first night at harvard model congress was deemed memorable.

before you knew it, you were dragged to the back of the room, as wonyoung pulled out a small paper bag—which turns out to hold a couple bottles of liquor, you grabbed your glasses and started pouring.

you could see out of the corner of your eye—the girls downing shots of tequila (in secret, cause you didn't want to get caught), and the guys coming along to take a shot or two. but heeseung looked, tense.

jake slapped him on the back, giggling, “come on man, loosen up a bit! mun isn’t all about the awards and the roles, it’s about the memories!”

“and the friends we make along the way, am i right?” jay chimed in, with a teasing tone.

before you knew it, heeseung grabbed an entire bottle and downed what was equivalent to maybe 4 shots, wonyoung squealed, arguing the fact that it was a very expensive bottle of liquor.

“dude! that’s from my dad’s cabinet, it’s at least 500.000 won!” she argued, grabbing the bottle out of his hands.

as you tried to ignore his gaze, minjeong gave you your first shot—which you downed immediately, but it only made you feel like heeseung’s gaze was burning holes into you more.

heeseung sighed, “give me another one.” holding his hand out for someone to pour him a shot. “come on, i don’t got all day.” before sunghoon poured him another shot—which he downed immediately.

you hated the feeling of his stare. it felt, uncomfortable, but you liked it? the more he stared, the more you downed more shots. before you knew it, opening night came to a close, and you were stumbling your way down the hallway with wonyoung and minjeong, before finally finding your room. and in your drunken state, you passed out.

burning pain. your eyes couldn’t handle the bright light emitting from what seemed to be all around you. as you open your eyes, head spinning, you flopped back down onto your bed, exhausted, and with the hotel room ac, you felt frozen.

but as you get comfortable onto the bed once more, you feel a sense of warmth engulf your body. it felt welcoming. comfortable. maybe a bit too comfortable for your sake. but the warmth was soothing. it was, moving?

you shot back out of the bed, trying to rub your eyes to focus back onto the warmth, but that warmth pulled you back into its embrace. as if it needed you to survive.

as you try to recollect the events of last night, your usual 7am alarm rung. what a great way to ruin the moment.

a groan echoed from that warmth you once clung to, a familiar sound, a familiar… voice?

“l/n, what time is it?” it asked.

fuck.

"chill y/n, you'll be fine." you whisper to yourself, walking to your assigned council's room. from the rest of the journalists in your gang, you had been assigned to report on different councils. while wonyoung and winter were assigned to report on the ASEAN council, sunghoon to report on the UNHRC council, you were unfortunately assigned to the crisis council. just to your luck. your mind was still stuck in what happened this morning. you met your chairs, shuhua and beomgyu, role call was held, and your first committee session began.

while you were typing away a starting paragraph for an article, a bright face comes to greet you. "oh hello, l/n y/n right? i'm jungwon, the journalist for KBS! i sit right next to you in our council room."

"oh hello! i'm y/n, reporting for the new york times, it's nice to meet you." you smile, offering a hand out for him to shake, which he accepts.

"so, you got assigned to crisis too huh?" jungwon asks as you nod, "honestly it's one of the worse councils to report on because everything is moving... too fast." he sighs.

"i don't mind the speed, it gives me inspiration to write. but everyone has their capacities right?" you try to reason, whilst jungwon gives an agreeing nod.

not long after some small talk before you could enter crisis' council room, another boy tags along. his bright smile clearly infectious as you and jungwon couldn't help but smile at his bright appearance.

"annyeong! nice to meet you i'm sunoo!" he smiles, his blonde hair reflecting the lights in the room.

you shake his hand as a boy with blonde hair and black streaks tags along behind him before slapping the blonde’s arm, "i'm nishimura riki, you can call me riki. can’t believe i flew all the way from tokyo for this."

“yah! your writing is fine riki, your good shots will steal the show.” sunoo assures him, before looking back at you, and smiling.

riki sighs, before turning on his camera “i wanna get the redhead over there, heard he’s super good at mun or something..”

you blink as you realize riki was talking about none other than—heeseung.

"oh him? yeah he's my secgen." you tell him, the sentence floating out of your mouth. jungwon and sunoo turn to you with gaping mouths.

"wait- what? he's YOUR secgen? THE lee heeseung?" jungwon exclaims.

you furrow your eyebrows, "um, yeah? what's the big deal about him?"

sunoo's face lights up, as he prepares his words. "girl, he's the most highest ranking student in the high school mun circuit! his countless awards and times he's chaired makes him a legend. he's a literal model un weapon, even delegates with the veto powers are scared of him." he explains.

as you open your mouth to respond to his comment about heeseung, one of the chairs of the crisis council exits the room to greet you.

"ah hello journalists, you're here. i'm yeonjun, the head chair for crisis. we currently have unmod going on right now so you're just in time. we'll give you guys a couple opportunities to interview the delegates, but please be mindful." he explains.

you and the three boys smile back at him, before he opens the council room door and lets you in.

"delegates! i'd like to introduce to you all the journalists from the international press institute council, who will be observing our committee session. we have yang jungwon from KBS, kim sunoo from associated press, nishimura riki from NHK, and y/n l/n from the new york times. please treat them with the upmost respect.

a couple delegates say their greetings, and even explaining the current debate going on, as the four of you smile back at them. the crisis council was a popular council, and you can tell that from the amount of delegates in the room.

as you return your laptop back into your messenger bag and pulling out a notepad, a pen, and some sticky notes, you look back up only to lock eyes with heeseung. his gaze was deadly. you give him a slight smile, which he responds with an eyeroll.

the only thing you hated about being a journalist was the interviews. you needed to research, but having to interact with people you don't know? you'd rather kill yourself. it just happened that heeseung's stance was interesting enough for you to pass a post-it note to him, which he threw away.

so you were surprised to see him walk towards you during break, as you had thought he had rejected your interview offer.

"l/n, you wanted to interview me?" he'd asked you, no bad tone in his voice.

you looked at him surprised, kinda shocked, "umm, yeah? are you okay with that."

"i'm good. just, make it quick."

you open your notes to find your question you wanted to ask him, "um, do you mind if i record?" you asked, which he nodded. "okay, so as the delegate of colombia, what steps would you take to face the ongoing drug trade happening in your country? as a journalist, we have not seen you speak up much lately, so i'd like to know your thoughts."

"um, thank you for the interesting question, well i think—"

it was unlike him to treat you like this. unlikely for him to keep his cool. as you try to remember the words he was saying as you hold out your phone to record him, nothing was catching on. it was as if words went in one ear and out the other. 

he was so professional. the way he walks, and the way he talks—the way his lips move when he talks, the way he explains his stance—the way he’s saying the words—the way his lips move to pronounce it, oh and the way he-

“l/n? are you done? i’m wasting my precious break time here.” heeseung asks you, breaking you out of that trance.

you compose yourself, hitting the stop button on the voice recorder app, “oh yeah, sorry, i was thinking of another question to ask you—got carried away…”

heeseung rolls his eyes at you, before thanking you and scurrying away.

what had gotten into you? you’ve never seen heeseung in that way before. he’s always been just a secretary-general to you. who also happens to hate you. you think. 

but as the unmoderated caucus comes to a close, you return back to your council room, ready to write an article on heeseung’s stance. after all, you still had a day’s left worth of committee sessions, as well as a press conference held at the crisis council. 

the press council room was chiming with the clicks and clacks of keyboards, journalists writing articles left and right. you were in the middle of writing once again another filler article, as you had no idea what to write for your mandatory article. as you look through your gallery, observing pictures you took earlier for your articles, you can't help but notice heeseung in his element.

as you're typing a possible title for your mandatory article, you hear from beside you, "hey, what's going on with you and heeseung?" sunoo asks, as you turn to him in shock, as you were in the middle of writing an article.

you laughed nervously, "what? nothing's going on between us. he practically hates me." you sigh.

jungwon pulls his chair over to you, placing his laptop on your table in the process, "i don't think so. not from what i saw last night."

you gasped at what he said, "and what i saw this morning! i could practically feel the tension emitting off the two of you as you were interviewing him. i've never seen a man so intrigued before." riki chimes in.

"this morning? nothing happened, i was interviewing him on his stances and whatsoever for a possible article! that's all to it!" you defend yourself, trying to get back into your article.

"y/nie, sweetie, i've seen way too many kdramas to tell that the way he's looking at you, is a look of love~" sunoo teases, smiling as if he knew something more.

jungwon and riki laughes at your expression, which seemed to resemble a disgusting look, but underneath that, you felt a sting in your heart. not a bad sting, a good sting.

"but hey you two seemed pretty cozy last night, i wonder what that was for?" jungwon asked.

riki gasps, "hey i took a picture! wait let me find it..." as he pulled out his camera, going through the camera roll. "here! you guys were dancing together a lot, and he basically was carrying you back to your room. what, did you guys get drunk or something?"

you choked on your water, as the events of last night start piecing together. "i remember taking a couple shots, he did too, but all i remember after that is falling asleep on my bed... i assumed my friends helped me to get back but now that i think of it... they were pretty drunk too."

taking another closer look at the pictures riki happened to capture, you saw two beaming smiles, and from the looks of it, it looked like you two were having fun. you've never seen him smile this much, let alone around you. the other picture resembled like a married couple. it was as if heeseung was trying to pick you up, but by the looks of your drunken states, it wasn't really working.

"wouldn't it be really funny if you guys accidentally fucked or something? that would explain the tension!" jungwon jokes.

you shake your head, before putting your face in your hands, "no way, not in a million years. our tension is, well, our tension! it's what happens normally!" you try to defend.

"no you're right won, they totally fucked. i mean the floor you guys are on? most of the rooms have king or queen sized beds. what would you guys be doing other than that? snuggling into each other till the sunrise?" riki assumes, scoffing afterwards.

your eyes widened in shock, as if jungwon cut your brain opened and took out the events of what happened this morning. you put your head in your hands once more before beginning to cry.

riki saw your reaction, "hey i didn't mean it that way! i mean it's- um... great? if you fucked? but if not then that's like, totally okay! i mean sex isn't for everyone—"

sunoo cut him off, shooing him away, "stop making it worse, ki-yah! y/nie? will you tell us what happened?"

you sniffed, not knowing why you suddenly burst into tears, maybe it was the frustration? you grabbed a tissue to compose yourself, "i don't know... all i remember is i woke up this morning, in his arms, and i just jumped out and got ready. we didn't even talk about it. all of a sudden he's back to his old self and he's being mean to me again."

you take a deep breath, sunoo rubbing you on the back, trying to calm you down. "he's been like this ever since i transferred. i was just the new girl who was a press prodigy, that's what they called me back at decelis, and i don't know, he's hated me every since. no reason whatsoever. i've tried to win his attention by winning muns and stuff but, it doesn't matter. he looks at me as if i disappoint him."

jungwon and riki both comfort you as well, before jungwon has a strike of realization. "you know, it's not that i wanna stir up delusion in your mind, but it's quite common for guys to hate someone because they like them. what if he has a crush on you?"

riki realizes as well, "yeah what if? what if all this time he's been trying so hard to hate you because he actually likes you?"

hearing the words likes you come out of their mouths makes you shudder in fear. no way he likes you. right?

before you knew it, your chair returns to announce that press conferences are due to start soon. and up first? was the crisis council.

stepping foot into the crisis room, with the information in mind, you start to notice the tiny little characteristics that match with the fact. the fact that the lee heeseung might as well have a crush on you. as you, sunoo, and two other journalists were guided to the front of the room, your chair explaining to the crisis delegates how the press conference was going to work, before giving the floor to the journalists.

you keep your head hung, distracting yourself by re-reading the questions you’ve written on your notepad, peeking through your hair, trying to take a glimpse of heeseung.

heeseung was in his element as always, head deep in his laptop, a couple volunteers passing by to give him a post-it note, filled with scribbles of other delegates wishing to be on his side. but as per usual, his critical self crumples the notes and puts it aside to his pile of other crumpled notes.

sunoo, on your left, nudges you in the arm, trying to snap you out of it. the moment you lift your head to look at the delegates and compose yourself, you catch heeseung looking at you.

with your bloodshot eyes, your usual smile fading, heeseung can’t help but notice what happened. you were fine last break. your eyes which used to be sparkling with curiosity had been traded for puffy eyes and a fake smile.

he wanted to come up to you, wanted to ask what’s wrong. but as your chair introduced the journalists, he’d wonder if it was just an impulsive thought.

each journalist had to share 10 minutes worth of press conference time to ask questions, a tight amount of time. as the journalist on your far left begins, the clock begins to tick. being the last journalist to ask, you begin to feel worried.

but as the mic is passed to you, and mere two minutes left on the clock, you scramble to compose yourself and your questions. “this journalist would like to open the question to the floor, with the excessive drug trade impacting the economy of your countries, what is an effective solution you’d have to decrease the drug circulation, but at the same time, would not damage your economy?”

placards were raised, and amongst them, were heeseung’s. you could see the colombian flag on his placard raised high, but as the journalist of the new york times, your work came first. therefore, you chose someone else. “yes, delegate of the united states?”

the delegate of the united states stood up, and you finally saw the name on his nametag. yang jeongin. he smirked at you, sending a wink. “thank you madam journalist for the intriguing question, as the drug trade across our country begins to increase…”

as you held your hand forward holding your phone out to record his answer, continuing to talk for the next minute. it felt like a lifetime. but in the corner of your eye, you could feel his gaze burning holes. heeseung held his placard high, glaring dead straight at jeongin even if he was still speaking. but as you thank jeongin for his answer, you open the question once more to the floor.

you hear a screech of the chair as heeseung, the only one holding his placard up, stands up to answer. but you don’t discern anything he says. you just stare at him. before you knew it, the clock rang, signaling that time was up.

sunoo nudged your arm once more, trying to snap you out of it. “you okay?” he asked, worry written all over his face. you nodded to tell him you were okay.

as you were escorted out of the room to head to the hotel restaurant for lunch break, you couldn't help but feel the same feeling of heeseung's gaze at the back of your head. you ignored him, walking out with sunoo by your side.

but you were stopped briefly by someone, none other than the delegate of the united states. "hey, that was a very interesting question you asked earlier at press conference. i was wondering if you need my insight on anything? given as i'm usa and you're the new york times." jeongin suggests, his usual smirk returning from before. sunoo winked at you, before leaving the two of you alone in the hallway.

you blink at him, "oh! yeah, i was thinking about gaining insight from, well our country's side of the story. so what can you tell me?"

your notepad flips open along the click of your pen, ready to jot down his words, before out of the corner of your eye, that sharp gaze returns. the burning stare heeseung emitted was back. you gulped and let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. "hey, um jeongin? could we find somewhere a bit more quiet so i can record the interview? i need to make sure everything is clear because i need to submit the questions to my chairs."

jeongin smiled, "of course sweetheart, i know just the place." before he took your hand and led you away. unbeknownst to you, heeseung was fuming.

as the two of you walked away, heeseung couldn't help but wonder. what's so great about yang jeongin anyways? compared to himself, his track record was not all that. yeah he may have won most outstanding or honorable mention a couple times, but never best delegate. consecutively.

heeseung felt a tap on his shoulder, before briefly turning around. jay was standing there with a cup of coffee. he grabbed it out of his hands before immediately drinking out of it.

"that's! hot coffee..." jay protested. but to heeseung, his rage burned hotter. "what's got your panties in a twist?" jay asked, sipping his own cup of coffee.

"nothing, just pissed at a delegate. per usual." heeseung lied. as the two begun to make their way to restaurant to eat lunch.

jay chuckled, seeing his pissed face, "dude, i've known you for over eight years, you don't get pissed at a delegate for no reason. this is harvard model congress for god's sake, everyone here? they're basically professionals. mun legends. i wouldn't have afford this shit if i wasn't good at it. the awards and prizes helped fund this hobby."

heeseung sighed, "it's not just a delegate. it's someone else."

"it's y/n, isn't it?" heeseung snapped his head to glare at jay, as if he grew three heads. "chill dude, i can tell. you're painfully in love with her."

"no no no, you don't get it, she's a menace to my track record. do you remember back at decelis mun before she transferred? her article basically ruined my record the next five muns? i basically had to avoid chairing so the rumors wouldn't be deemed true." heeseung argued, reminiscing the times.

"but you'd argue she's a damn good writer, isn't she?" jay defended, "i mean no one from decelis has won consecutively aside from you. and she comes in to make the decelis name proud. aren't you glad? you're secgen after all. you're just in denial."

heeseung sighed, looking at his cup of coffee, once full, now empty. "i'm not in denial! i'm just stressed with a couple delegates in committee session, unmoderated caucus was, stressful."

entering the restaurant, their eyes landed to the corner booth, where you sat face to face with jeongin. jay turned his head to look at heeseung staring deadset at the two. "well, whatever floats your boat man, i'm gonna get some lunch. unsc might as well go to crisis next comses." jay pats him on the back, joining sunghoon, jake, wonyoung, and minjeong.

heeseung stood still. he couldn't help but wonder. is this what love feels like?

"so, yang jeongin, what can you tell me about the united states' stance on the current illegal drug trade? i assume that the country is fully aware of it happening?" you ask, pressing record on your voicenotes app.

jeongin looked around, before reaching over and pressing the stop recording button on your phone. before you could protest, "okay cut the crap, what's going on between you and lee heeseung?"

you looked at him strangely, not expecting the sudden confrontation. "well, nothing? i don't know what you want me to say, this isn't part of the interview."

jeongin dug into his food, "screw that shit, i wanna know why your secgen is all on my ass. i mean i looked at you once at comses earlier, and he looked at me like i lit an orphanage on fire."

you almost choked on your pasta, "what the hell, dude. he's just like that. he hates my guts so much he has to make me feel uncomfortable everywhere i go. i literally bring home decelis as many awards as he has in the past two years. i don't get him."

"nah, i don't think that's hate. he looked at me as if he was clyde and i was trying to steal away his bonnie. that's a look of love."

you sighed, "the thing is jeongin, he doesn't care. i've done everything to pique his attention, best journalist awards left and right, i was supposed to run for deputy secgen but he didn't let me. he said i wasn't a true decelis muner yet. i mean 8 muns in the span of a couple months? and i've never lost a single one? he probably hates me because i chose the lamest council."

jeongin swallows his food before he comes to realization, "hey weren't you the journalist who wrote on heeseung back at decelis' mun? i remember felix-hyung, my friend, that he went feral over it. he was chairing unicef, and in the chairs' room, he overheard heeseung talking about your article. how it was going to ruin his track record, or something."

"i mean, i do remember briefly. wonyoung, my chair, said i was allowed to write about the chairs or staff, even if they were filler articles. i wrote about heeseung and jay out of interest, i didn't know their history." you confessed, feeling quite bad about the outcome. "i didn't want my article to end up being gossip or shit talk, i just wrote what i wanted to."

"freedom of the press, am i right?" jeongin laughed, "speaking of the devil." signaling heeseung heading towards your table.

heeseung stood at your table. "yang. l/n." before scooting next to jeongin's side of the booth. you couldn't help but move your eyes between the two. after what sunoo and the boys told you earlier, and jeongin's confirmation that basically people could tell, you sit there in silence.

heeseung clears his throat, "well i'm not seeing much interviewing going on, delegates."

you scoffed at him, "it's none of your business heeseung. we're all delegates, it's lunch break. you don't have to boss around all the time."

"our decelis guidebook strictly confers to not confide in the enemy. and here you are, with the enemy. you know if you spill precious information regarding us we'd be dead?" he scolded you.

a laugh escaped your throat, "the enemy? jeongin is far from the enemy to me. matter of fact, heeseung, you've been more of an enemy to me rather than a secgen."

jeongin whispered, "keep it down y/n, it's okay."

you stood up in anger, "no it's not okay! i've been trying my hardest to do everything i can, i've won consecutively since my first mun at decelis, i've done everything you ask for. i've done nothing but make the decelis name proud, but i just can't happen to make you proud. what do i have to do next? i do everything and all i do is fall at second best. if you hate me so much then kick me off the goddamn team! wouldn't want me tarnishing your precious track record by having a traitor on the team, would you? all this over a stupid article i wrote months ago." you walk away from the table, returning to your room.

heeseung was speechless, the rest of the room was in awe, normally delegates would be able to stay professional. even if there was a break up or something. even wonyoung and minjeong looked at heeseung in anger, meanwhile jake, jay, and sunghoon looked at him in disappointment. jeongin stood up and left the booth, avoiding any more anger out of heeseung. "if i were you, i'd apologize. that girl has done nothing but try to please you and make you proud. start there." jeongin added before leaving.

out of habit, heeseung hung his head low in embarrassment. this was worse than the time you wrote that article about him. as he stood up to confide in the boys for advice, he spots a small leather notepad in the corner of the booth. it was yours. he'd have to find you, face you and give it back. it wouldn't hurt to read a bit of what's inside, right?

running back to your room, you couldn't dare return till next comses. the fact that an entire room full of delegates and chairs had heard you scream at heeseung's face. and returning back to the bed you woke up from this morning, limbs tangled with heeseung, didn't really help.

hiding your face in your bedsheets, tears flowing freely, you couldn't help but smell the familiar cologne he had left behind. the smell stung your nose, and made your eyes water more. the scent that once plagued you, now had lulled you to sleep.

a blurry facade appeared, the sound of heavy noise music remained muffled. your feet were cold on the hotel floor, destination? room 777. you were swaying side to side, but thankfully you were able to hold on to a pillar, which was moving with you.

"we shouldn't have drunk this much, right l/n? i'm not even sure i'm prepped for comses tomorrow morning." the pillar said.

"you have it easy, lee. you don't have to write 4 pieces worth of mandatory articles and observe other council's committee sessions." you replied, a clear slur in your voice.

it, who turned out to be heeseung, laughed, and it was like music to your ears. "i thought you journalists just copy-pasted shit off google or something, didn't get why you'd have to sit in the back of council rooms."

you scoffed at him, "well, as secretary-general, you should've known better. if only you noticed what i've been doing all this time to get your attention, maybe you would've understood."

"you think i haven't been paying attention? i've had my eyes on you ever since you wrote that silly article about me back at decelis mun. 'who's really chairing crisis?' you do know me and jay have been friends since primary, right?" he argued.

"that i know know, lee. the fact that you caused all the fuss over an article that was purely for mun, and had no ill intention is just stupid. i just wanted to be able to express myself." you confessed, feeling underestimated.

he sighed, pressing the up button on the lift, "it's not that i fussed over an article, it's that you wrote about me. i don't see many people brave enough to write about a secretary-general." before he could continue, the doors to the lift dinged and opened, allowing the two of you to walk in.

"i mean," he stuttered, clicking the number seven on the lift's buttons, "you amazed me. i've never met a person who could express themselves so much through their writing. no one paid attention to me enough to write such a critical piece about me."

you smiled at him, "so i'm special? i was the first to write about you, right?" he chuckled at your cheeky comment, "yes you're a first. i wouldn't mind if you kept writing about me."

"but why'd you hate me? i've done so much for decelis to make you proud, but you still have a way to butcher me. i just wanted to impress you." you'd sighed into his chest, the world beginning to spin.

luckily, heeseung had caught you before you fell, right on time as the lift reached the seventh floor. he basically carried you out, trying not to drop you.

"if i hated you so much, i wouldn't be helping you get back to our room, nor would i be making sure you get back safely." he assured you, holding you in his arms.

you groaned in protest, "but you do, don't you? i'm never enough for you, after everything i've done. all the things i did—"

you were shut up by his lips on yours. out of the blue, with no warning signs, he had kissed you. out of habit you kissed him back, lips molding against each other as if you had been waiting for years, as if you couldn't live without each other. all hatred you held against him dissipated. your arms crawling towards the back of his neck to pull him closer, his own pulling on your waist.

he pulled away to take a breath, but you couldn't breathe. he was your oxygen. you connected the two of you together, chasing his lips, his touch, his presence. it was the sweetness, the flavor of love and lust hanging. you’ve been craving his attention, hell, even his touch for months.

but your lungs craved oxygen, forcing you to pull away, hiding your face in his chest. as you were taking in the moment, he chuckled, "i wouldn't have done that if i hated you, would i?"

waking up with a jolt, the memories of last night came rushing in. you thanked yourself that the two of you hadn't fucked, but the idea of kissing him and liking it gave yourself insight. you wondered if heeseung remembered too.

opening your phone and seeing the time, you rushed out of your room as you were late to your next editorial meeting. it being the last committee session of the day, all you had to do was submit your mandatory articles of the day, and you'd be done. running back to your council room, knocking slightly on the door, you rushed back to your seat.

"journalist, you're late. why is that?" shuhua asked, beomgyu beside her, taking notes.

you sat down and composed yourself, "i'm sorry chairs, i slept in during break. it won't happen again."

the chairs nodded at you, letting it pass. the room discussed about how press conferences was, reminding the journalists of the upcoming deadline, but your mind was in the gutter.

you touch your lips, and you feel the lingering taste on your tongue. you were shocked out of your trance with the knocks of the chairs' gavel hitting the sound block. with only an hour left to finish your mandatory article, you begin to type.

social night was an mun tradition. after a full day of committee sessions, all councils, no matter what their council was, it gave a chance for all the delegates to mingle amongst each other.

free from the deadline of your first mandatory article, you had the whole night to party it out before tomorrow, where you had to finish your final mandatory article.

social nights usually had themes, and tonight, harvard model congress' was inspired by bridgerton, along with masquerade masks were in array. you had packed a a black dress, which belonged to your mother. she’d always tell you to save it for a special occasion, a moment you wouldn’t want to forget. and for tonight, as you miss your mom's touch, you wear your dress with pride.

walking to the venue, and right before you could even enter, you’re immediately greeted by wonyoung and minjeong. "oh my god sweets are you okay?" wonyoung asked, holding your face, clear worry in her eyes. "we heard and saw what happened at lunch, good for you to finally confront the bitch." minjeong commented, which earned her, once again, another slap on the arm by wonyoung.

you nodded at the two, holding their hands, "i'm fine, don't worry. i just needed to get it out of my system, that's all."

"to think of it, i haven't seen him since. normally when you pass by the crisis room, you'd hear his voice bouncing off the walls..." wonyoung confessed, "that's very unlike of him."

minjeong scoffs at her comment, "who cares? he's been downplaying y/n's achievements for the past couple months, i wouldn't be able to stay quiet if i were you."

you sighed at the two bickering in front of you, "guys, i just want tonight to be about us. this is harvard model congress for god's sake, i want to make the best out of it. so can we stop the heeseung talk and have some fun? please?"

the two nodded at your request, not pestering you any further. you all walk into the venue, being handed masquerade masks. the venue was decorated to the nines, and it felt like a ball straight out of bridgerton. the three of you were guided to your delegation table, which seated you, the girls, jake, and sunghoon. but heeseung? he was no where to be found.

"where's heeseung? it's not like him to miss out on social night." jake asked you.

you sat down on your assigned seat, and the seat on your right, which was supposed to occupy heeseung, was cold and empty. "why are you asking me? he hates me, remember?"

jake shrugged, "i don't know, i just reckoned that since the two of you are sharing a room, you'd know where he is."

minjeong scoffs, "who cares? y/n got ready at me and wony's room anyways, so no, we don't know where he is."

"jay said earlier today that he's been looking for him. wonder where he went. and if he found him..." sunghoon tells the table, sipping on his glass of water.

stuck in your trance, you were snapped out of it by a screeching of a chair, one, being jay, and the other was right next to you. heeseung. he was in his usual suit and tie, a couple buttons on the top were unbuttoned. you glanced at his tired eyes, hidden underneath the masquerade mask.

"dude? where've you been?" jake asked jay, slapping him on the shoulder.

jay sighed and drank a gulp of his water, "looking for this asshole over here." while pointing at heeseung, "took me a while to find him literally on the rooftop. i swear seoul uni has the most crazy hideouts. i'm not even sure i can even find my way back."

"how'd you find your way there anyways?" sunghoon asked heeseung.

he sighed, "don't know. just, found it." his demeanor slipping away as you begin to see the raw brokenness. you didn't hurt his ego that much, right?

as the clock struck seven, waiters all around the room began laying out the meals. you took a glimpse of the dinner courses in front of you, not really having an appetite for anything. but you still tried to eat, tried not to waste your food, tried to seem okay in front of him.

heeseung, on the other hand, was trying his best not to combust. sitting next to you was hard enough, but the fact you were wearing such a beautiful dress had him awestruck. he also lost his appetite. he couldn't help but stare at you.

after dinner, your friends stood up and ran over to the dance floor, and you were unfortunately dragged along. a remix of many famous hits were played, before you sang your hearts out to iris, by the goo goo dolls. you felt someone tap you on your shoulder, which to your surprise you see jeongin.

"could i have this dance?" he asked, hand out for you to grab, iris still playing in the background.

you nodded and grabbed his hand before you two danced foolishly to iris, heels discarded, his suit as well, just dancing your hearts out. but you had your limits, you were tired and excused yourself to grab some water. before you felt a nudge on your right, as heeseung leaned towards your ear. "can we talk later? don't say no just yet, just follow the green post its."

he walks away, as you look at him in confusion. feeling bad for what you said at lunch, you decide to meet him and see what he has to say.

following the pins of green post-its he left behind, you find yourself at the hidden rooftop jay was talking about at dinner. you open the door to be shocked at the view. the stars twinkling in the night sky. and stood there near the edge, was heeseung.

you broke the silence, clearing your throat, "you wanted to speak to me?"

heeseung looked at you and your dress, his mind going places. "yeah. i did. i'm not expecting an apology. i deserve it."

"but why'd you hate me so much, heeseung?" you whined at him, sick of his jokes.

"the thing is l/n, i don't!" he shouts, walking towards you, "it's not that i hate you, it's that i hate the way you make me feel. i hate the way you're so good at writing, i hate the way you win everything to make me proud, i hate the way you know my weaknesses, i hate the way you never gave up. you're on my mind every fucking day."

you walk up towards him, pulling his suit to pull him down, and him not expecting anything, you slap him across his face.

heeseung immediately pulled back, "ow! what was that for?"

"that was for not telling me about how you felt. you didn't have to bottle it up, you know?" you scoffed.

"and you didn't have to either!" he protested back, pulling out a familiar journal. your journal.

you grabbed it from his hands, "how'd you find this? i didn't even realize it was missing..."

heeseung sighed, "you know for a smart writer like you, you're very forgetful." a smile beginning to emerge.

"what did you read, heeseung? tell me." you asked, afraid that your secrets would spill out.

heeseung walked towards you, "enough to know that you're too stubborn to even tell me the truth. if you'd been feeling this way for months then you should have told me."

you gasped at him, "i would have told you about it if you weren't such a dick all the time? and then you kissing me last night just added more fuel to the fire." not realizing what you said, heeseung cupped your face, which was full of confusion.

"you remember last night?"

you blinked. "everything."

he laughed, "then you'd know i wouldn't hate you as much if i was doing this, would i?"

the familiar taste of his lips returned as he kissed you. you held onto his hands as he caressed your face. the oxygen you once craved had been fulfilled. you strung your arms around his neck, clinging onto him for dear life. you could feel the burst of sparks just surrounding the two of you, a moment you both craved.

the wavering facade between the two finally faded, unleashing the raw desire the two of you had, rushing through your veins.

you pulled away, heeseung leaning his forehead onto yours, before he gave you his best smile. you blushed out of nervousness and proximity the two of you held, not used to this view.

"you still hate me now?" you joked, smiling at him. his eyes softened, before he laughed, and kissing you once more, not wanting to let go. and as the stars glimmered under the night sky, you forgot time ever existed. forget the committee sessions due tomorrow, it was the two of you against the world.

surely, waking up on the final day of the conference would give you a sense of peace, right? wrong. you had spent so much time last night making out and talking with heeseung that you forgot your final mandatory article was due soon. waking up from the bed the two shared, limbs tangled once more, this time, you weren't ashamed.

you kissed heeseung's forehead to wake him up, and despite heeseung's wishes to stay in and make out some more, you declined and got ready.

"can't you just stay? a bit late to the first comses of the day won't hurt your awards." heeseung groaned, asking you to return.

"i was late at yesterday's comses post-lunch, so i think i'm going to be a good girl and come early to this one." you replied, fixing your tie.

heeseung basically stood up and tried to pull you back to bed, "come on, just be my good girl. i promise you will be awarded with all of my kisses in the world."

you shook your head, "missing out on a couple kisses won't be the death of me. come on, you need to prep for comses too."

heeseung moaned in complaint, "no, i'd break my streak for you, i don't care. i just want to stay in with you, away from everybody."

you were able to crawl your way out of his touch, "nope! i'm not letting you lose your streak just over me. come on, get ready. i'm going down for breakfast."

"can i at least have a goodbye kiss before you go?" he pouted, and the way his eyes resembled bambi, you gave in.

you tried to just give him a quick peck, but his touch was so fragile and welcoming, that if you didn't stand your ground, you'd probably be pinned down till the rest of the day. but you didn't want that, so you let go of his touch, assuring him that you'd spend more time with him after the conference.

now, here you were, back in your conference room with a giddy look on your face. you couldn't help but dream of last night. even sunoo, riki, jungwon, along with wonyoung, minjeong, and sunghoon, were even surprised to see you better all of a sudden.

"okay is this some weird process girls do the cope with sadness, cause if so how do we fix her?" sunoo asked, concerned.

wonyoung was staring at you like you were beaming, "it looks like pregnancy glow."

riki basically spit out his coffee, "wait so they actually fucked?"

minjeong snapped at riki, "who fucked?"

"we had speculation that, y/n and heeseung fucked the first night, hence why she was out of it the next day..." jungwon explained to the rest.

sunghoon, the only person out of the group who happened to know heeseung the best, commented that; "no there's no way he fucked her. if they fucked, they wouldn't have been here."

"could you stop speculating that me and heeseung fucked?" you snapped at the group. not out of anger, but annoyed that you couldn't concentrate.

"sorry, but did you?" riki enquired, earning him a riki! from the group around him. "what? i just wanna know."

you sighed, standing up and packing a couple things, "who cares if we fucked or not? just leave us alone." as you head out of the council room, heading to the crisis room for some final details.

contrary to how you first felt when you walked into the room, your heart felt full of hope. that this time, heeseung wouldn't be staring at you with hatred, instead of love. you hoped you wouldn't distract him.

as you walked into the council room, you nodded at chair yeonjun, before taking a seat at the prepared seats for the journalists. you sit down, open your laptop as you're typing your final mandatory article. you tried to glimpse towards heeseung, but you were returned with the same feeling as yesterday. the sharp gaze was back. maybe it's because he's in is element? mun is important to him... you thought, and busied yourself to writing your article. since it was your final committee session, you just had to submit your article and return for the closing editorial meeting. quickly clicking submit, and the chairs deeming the final committee session over, you wanted to sneak a quick kiss before returning for your meeting.

you stood up from your seat and walked towards heeseung. he stood up and saw you, walking your way. instead of being greeted by a hug or a kiss, he brushed past you to talk to his fellow delegates. you felt a pang in your chest, the way heeseung ignored you like that. you thought everything was okay. the kisses you shared, the conversations you had. you looked back at heeseung only to see him busy talking with the other delegates, barely sparing you a glance. you left the room quickly, not looking back.

unbeknownst to you, heeseung saw you leaving, his heart barely surviving after treating you like that. you deserved better than him. he couldn't have it all.

the final editorial meeting of press councils should be a joy to you. no more deadlines, no more press conferences. but you were stuck in your head. repeating the interaction over and over in your head, you didn't understand a single thing.

after the comments and input from both the chairs and the journalists, chair shuhua decided to pull out the gossip box. you'd been informed prior about the gossip box filling at social night, but since you ran off with heeseung to make out the night away, you didn't have time to fill it in.

as shuhua and beomgyu begin to read the entries, earning laughter all around the room, a certain entry snaps you out of your trance.

"oh this is a good one! new york times from press and colombia from crisis actually fit really good together! hope the enemies finally turn into lovers! wait is this about y/n and heeseung?" chair shuhua asks, causing the whole room to look at you.

you looked at everyone strangely, "what? there's nothing."

chair beomgyu shook his head, "no no no, i don't think there's nothing. come on spill the tea, something must've happened the past three days."

everybody was waiting on your response. waiting for you to tell everyone what happened. you just wanted them to shut up. "okay well. we kissed."

the group of six who were pestering you earlier, gasped loudly. earning you a rumble of no shit's, wait actually's, and a loud jinjja?!

you couldn't help but sink back into your seat, still upset about the way he treated you earlier. "yeah, but he's treating me like shit again today, so. that's that."

the entire room aww'ed in disappointment, before the chairs read out a couple more entries, and adjourns the final editorial. you stand up to clean your table, taking out a pen to begin signing each others' placards. signing everybody else's, photo sessions were in array, and after you were finally allowed to have some free time before awarding ceremony.

awarding ceremony was one of those moments where you have hope, but at the same time you don't. you start rethinking choices you made during the conference, wondering if you made the right option. you headed your way to where the press council was sat at, where you met a couple other delegates, even bumping into jeongin, wishing each other a good luck!

you sit down between wonyoung and minjeong, which earned you an endearing hug from the two, assuring your problems with heeseung didn't matter. stuck in your head, you didn't notice the boys' absence in the room. and awarding had begun. the secretary-general of harvard model congress came up and made their speech, thanking all the delegates for participating and giving their best. chairs from other councils begin to come up to give their awards.

meanwhile, outside of the room, was heeseung cornered by jay, jake, and sunghoon.

heeseung, not caught up with the situation, looked at the three with confusion. "what did i do?"

jay scoffed, "what did you do? you managed to fuck it up again? what did i tell you?!" shaking the life out of him.

heeseung shook his head in confusion, not knowing what to do, when sunghoon came up to him, "look man, your little feud with y/n has to stop. i don't get you anymore. i thought you'd be good at this after helping me and wonyoung get together..."

"nah dude you're in denial. what do you mean you two basically confessed to not hating each other and then made out a bunch of times, only for you to leave her and ignore her like so? that's crazy." jake protested. that was the truth.

"i don't know what to tell you, but me and jake have got to get back for unsc awarding, but please think about it? i know you feel scared of this whole love thing, but i assure you, it's okay to feel this way." jay says, leaving with jake, which left sunghoon with heeseung alone.

heeseung didn't know what to do. for the first time in his life, everything was out of his control. he craved you and needed you, but he felt like he didn't deserve you. it was as if a crisis was happening in his own mind.

as he hears the cheers of the room with every award that is given out, his heart races. he hears the announcement where jay and jake both won best delegates, which they had been double delegating in.

sunghoon kept trying to comfort heeseung, not knowing what to say to him. "look, i may not understand the way your mind works, but i assure you that you deserve her. you've put yourself through it all for decelis, and the track record that we have wouldn't have been what it is now if it wasn't for you. i don't know what plan you're cooking up, but whatever it is, win her back." heeseung looks at sunghoon with sheer nervousness in his eyes. "press and crisis are left, so whatever you want to do? do it now. before its too late."

leaving heeseung alone outside the room, sunghoon walks back in, returning to where the press journalists sat. he saw you picking on your nails out of habit, nervous for the next awards. as your chairs walk up to the podium, sunghoon just hopes heeseung would do something.

as names begin getting called out, sunoo winning best pre-conference video, then riki and jungwon winning verbal commendations, wonyoung and minjeong winning honorable mentions, you held on tight to the tiny string of hope left. it was probably between you and sunghoon left. as you look around the room, heeseung is still nowhere to be found. you had hoped that maybe with this win, you'd make him proud once and for all.

"the final two journalists were a tight match. these two shown impeccable talent in their articles and presence the past three days." shuhua announces. "it is with our great pleasure that the most outstanding journalist goes to, park sunghoon!"

wonyoung, who was on the stage prior, basically screams in joy. you high five sunghoon before he winks at you, knowing you'd win best journalist. but a part of you still thinks you won't.

beomgyu gives sunghoon his award, before adjusting his mic. "this final journalist has pure talent in her writing, and have awestruck the both of us with her work. without further ado, we would like to present that the best journalist award goes to none other than... l/n y/n!"

relief. that's all what washes towards you. yes you've heard your name and the words best journalist go along too often, but every time it happens, it always feels euphoric. as you walk up the stage to receive your award, earning smiles from the other awardees, you couldn't help but look to the crowd.

you see jay and jake basically jumping up and down in joy, but heeseung was still nowhere to be found. a pang of disappointment burns in your chest as you walk down the podium with your certificate in hand. an array of congratulations! are heard, as you sit back down for the final awarding. crisis.

zoning out, after feeling the euphoria of your win, your mind drifts off to heeseung. how would he feel? was he proud?

as chair yeonjun announces the awardees, you are cut out of your trance with every round of applause. you see jeongin win most outstanding, and you cheer for him.

as yeonjun clears his throat for the final award, he begins his speech. "this final award goes to a delegate who really deserves it all. although this mun may have not been his best run, he deserves so much more than the title: prodigy. i'd like to present this best delegate award to none other than... you know what? lee heeseung get up here, get your award, and get your girl!"

with pure shock, you watch as heeseung bursts through the doors, run up to the podium, quickly shake his chairs' hands, grabs his certificate, and runs down. and he's running to you.

he drops his certificate on the floor, before engulfing you in the biggest hug he's ever given in his life. spinning you around, you squeal in excitement. he whispers in your ear an array of i'm so proud of you's, before putting you down, and kissing you in front of everyone.

you cling onto him, parting your lips allowing him to kiss you deeper and deeper, and the feeling of sparks flying around you made it feel like it would last forever. your ears muffle all the cheers surrounding you, only focusing on heeseung, and heeseung only.

he puts you down and rests his forehead on yours, exactly like how he did on the rooftop the night before. "how'd you pull this off?" you ask him, still on cloud nine.

"eh, had some help from chair yeonjun. didn't expect the bestdel though." heeseung laughs, holding you by the waist, tighter, and tighter.

you held his face closer, wanting to feel his touch, "why'd you do that? why'd you run?"

"y/n. i love you. i never knew how to say it all this time, because it's a feeling unlike any other. to the point it made me feel as if my life was in crisis. but that's when i realized i never had it all. not until i found you."

taglist; @riekiss @sesameoil721 @desistay @capri-cuntz @beomluvrr @shawnyle @tya0 @heexoolio @sunghoonsgff @spiderhanzzz (crossed out = i can't tag you)

back to my masterlist?

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction.

© 𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐇𝐄𝐄, est. 2024 | do not plagiarize, modify, translate, or repost my works on any platforms.

[detectivestucks]

A Jealous Hokage IV

18+ content, Minors do NOT interact

Pairing: Kakashi x F!Reader x Obito

Summary: Obito regrets his actions as you decide what to do moving forward. Kakashi invites you to an event and things get steamy as you decide what you’re going to wear.

Warnings: NSFW, Slight Degradation, Spanking, Fingering, Unprotected Sex

Word Count: 3.4k

Part 3

New here? Check out Part 1

You sit there, staring at the gift. Your mind that had gone blank, paralyzed by indecision, was now swirling with inner dialogue. What is wrong with me? Kakashi is amazing. We’ve been dating for the better part of a year. Why would I throw that away? But Obito, how do I describe it? You always know where you stand with him. He doesn’t hide his affection. The way he looks at me. The way he made me feel under his genjutsu…but that’s exactly why I can’t trust him. The entire thing could’ve been lies just to get me in bed. This is all a game to him. It’s not a game to Kakashi. He loves me. He’s the healthy choice, even if it is in secret. I might have feelings for Obito but I love Kakashi and I'm not gonna give that up. 

You make this decision with a firm nod of your head. Now that you are certain of what you’re going to do, you reach out and finally unwrap the small box that had been sitting patiently on your table for the past two hours. 

It is a beautiful necklace and earring set. A long strand of glittery stones with a bright pendant, it was exceedingly fancy and you wonder when you would ever wear such jewelry. Sure you love dressing up for work but within reason. This looked like something you’d wear to dinner with the Feudal Lord. It must’ve been very expensive. Why would Kakashi spend this kind of money on me?

The next morning you head into work trying your hardest to pretend last night never happened. It was genjutsu, it was genjutsu, it was genjutsu. None of it was real. It was genjutsu. No matter how many times you told yourself this, you were still saddled with guilt cause you know that in the heat of the moment you liked it. Curse Obito for doing this to you. You were happy and in love before he came along. Why did he have to come ruin everything?

You drop your stuff off in your office and head to the break room to grab hot water to make some tea. Upon entering the room you see Obito. Your face instantly shades red from both shame and anger and you storm away avoiding him. Obito for once regrets his advances towards you. He knows he crossed a line last night. Desperation got the best of him. He shouldn’t have used his abilities like that. 

Mortified, you decide to hide out in your office. You hear a soft knock on the door. It was Obito holding a cup of tea. “Go away Obito” 

Completely disregarding your wishes he enters anyway and puts the tea down on your desk. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I was out of line last night.” You sheepishly take the tea off the desk. “I think that might be the first time you’ve ever called me by my name.” you give a small smile. “Thank you Obito. For the tea and for the apology.” You blow on the tea before taking a sip. 

“I’ve let my feelings for you consume my actions. I've been focusing on what I want and I took it too far.” He steps forward and grabs your hand, kissing the back of it. “Forgive me Princess.”

“Please stop calling me that.”

“Never” he says with a smile as he walks out of your office.

You would be lying if you said that the small gesture didn’t make you feel warm. You liked how special he made you feel but last night is as far as things will ever go. You stand firm on that decision.

Not even ten minutes go by before Kakashi enters your office without knocking and leans against your desk. You beam up at him. “Good Morning Kashi!”

“Good Morning Angel” He leans down to give you a kiss on the cheek. “Did you like your gift?”

Recalling the jewelry he had delivered to your home, you exclaim, “It was beautiful! However I couldn’t help but wonder, what was the occasion?”

“I’m so glad you phrased it like that.” He smiled, “The Feudal Lord came to my office yesterday afternoon. He wants us to host a Gala to fundraise for the Academy. Since these times of peace have brought in fewer paid missions, we need more money to keep the program going. He also wants to invite representatives from the other great nations to continue to build international relationships. I thought you could wear it when you go.”

“I’m invited?”

“All members of the shinobi forces are invited, including the personnel at headquarters.”

“Wow, sounds fancy. I feel so important.”

“You are important.” He says with a brush of your cheek. 

At that moment you hear your office mate shuffling in through the door. Kakashi immediately stands up. 

“I’ll have the latest update on that translation on your desk by lunch.”

Kakashi nods while playing along. “I appreciate it. I can always count on you.” He begins to leave your office. 

“Good Morning Lord Sixth.”

“Good Morning Shiho. Just a heads up, you should be expecting an invitation from my office later today.” 

“Oh, okay, thank you!” she called to him as he disappeared out your office door. 

“What is the invite about?”

“It’s some fundraiser Gala. We’re all invited.”

“Oh that sounds fun! You gonna bring a date?”

“Psh, yeah right.”

“What about the mystery man?”

“He is a mystery for a reason and he is going to stay a mystery.” You say with a pointed look.

Shiho rolls her eyes and drops it, deciding to get started on the day’s work. 

**************************************************

You come home from work thinking about the Gala. What on earth am I going to wear? I don’t have anything that fancy! You begin to rifle through your closet looking for a dress that matches Kakashi’s earrings. There is a knock on the door. You turn around, leaving your closet and walk towards the kitchen. You open up your door to find Kakashi standing there with flowers for you. Beaming at him, you hurry him inside before anyone could see.

“That was a big risk you took coming here with flowers like this. Someone could've seen you.”

“Don’t worry Angel, I was careful.”

He gives you the bouquet and you smell them. “They’re lovely, thank you.”

“Not as lovely as you.”  he says, eyes sparkling as he looks at you with complete adoration. You feel butterflies rise in your stomach yet again. He always has that effect on you. You turn to put them in water and make two cups of tea. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been so busy.”

“That’s okay, Kash. I have plenty of work to occupy my time.”

“And I’m sorry that you can’t be my official date to the Gala.” The way he says this tells you that he is genuinely bothered by it.

“I don’t need all of that. I’m just happy being with you, even if it’s private.” you say, placing a hand on his forearm.

Kakashi pulls down his mask while he leans in for a kiss. You wrap both of your arms around him pressing your lips into his. When your mouths disconnect, he asks softly, “Have you thought about what you’re going to wear?”

“Actually I was just trying to figure that out. I think I may need to go shopping.”

“Well I’ve been thinking about what you should wear, a lot.” He whispers in your ear. You feel the familiar tingle of excitement trickle along your spine.

“Do tell” you whisper back

“Well I was thinking something red and revealing. Maybe something low cut showing off your lovely tits, teasing the entire room” he says gripping your waist tightly. “The fabric sheer so I can see your thong through it from across the dining hall.” He kisses your cheek. “Perhaps a slit up to your hip so that I have easy access when I corner you in the closet.” He kisses your neck. “Every man in the room will want you but only I will get to fuck you.” he whispers into your neck.

You hum in amusement. “Well if you want me to wear something low cut, you’ll need to stop giving me so many hickies.” 

You hear the hesitation as he debates whether or not to resist the urge to bite down on you. He settled for kissing along the entire curve of your neck and shoulder, willing to allow your pre-existing marks heal before the Gala. He kisses all around your collarbone before licking his tongue up your neck.

You close your eyes and exhale feeling the arousal begin to pool in your underwear. He presses his lips into yours before nibbling on your lower lip, pulling till it slips out from between his teeth. You sharply inhale feeling lust wash over you. Your fingers dig into his back as you pull him towards you. 

He pushes you onto the table pulling off your tank top to kiss all over your chest. Your head drops back as he kisses you, careful not to leave a single mark. It isn’t as fun as his love bites but it still makes you soak the lace between your legs. While he kisses you he undoes the snap of your bra, causing it to fall in your lap. You push his face into your chest letting him lick your cleavage before suckling on your tits, taking care of each one. Since he couldn’t mark up your skin he decided to be extra cruel to your nipples biting down on them with ferocity. “AH!!” you call out. Chills roll over your body covering your skin as his nibbling makes your empty pussy crave something to clamp down around. 

He lets go of your tit with a satisfied smile, devilishly staring up at you. You pull off his shirt and undo his pants, kissing his entire front. Every muscle, every scar, every facet that you could get your greedy mouth on, you wanted to taste it all. He stroked himself as he watched you. Once again thinking about how he could fuck you for the rest of his life. You nibbled on his collarbone before he raised your face up to his. 

“Open”

You open your mouth. He spits into it. 

“Swallow” 

You swallow his spit. A wicked smile curls his lips. He loves how you play along with anything he throws at you. “That’s a good Angel”

He spins you around so you’re bent over the table and yanks your pants down past your hips. He spanks you a few times just to watch you squirm before sliding his fingers into your slit. You moan as he works your gummy walls. His other hand reaches to cover your mouth and arch your back up towards him. With his hand jutting in and out of your tightening pussy, he leans down and whispers in your ear, “Do you like that my little slut? You like when I finger your hole?”

“Mhm” you say, muffled by his hand. He adjusts his hand and slips two fingers into your mouth fish hooking you while he quickens the pace in your cunt adding a third finger inside. 

“Aa-aaa-aaa-hhh!” you moan, unable to truly speak with your stretched out lips. You began to kick your legs trapped together by your pants pulled halfway down. He pulls his fingers out of your heat and replaces them with his dick already dipping with precum. You let out a satisfied groan as he stretches you, filling you up completely, pushing inside you all the way to the hilt. 

He shoves his slick covered fingers in your mouth, feeding you your own cum before hooking them in your mouth like his other hand, using your lips to grip you while slamming rhythmically into your plush behind. Your fingers clutch the edge of the table trying to steady yourself as you curse and scream in pleasure. 

Wanting to pick up speed, Kakashi grabs you by the elbows pulling your arms behind your back as he unleashes the pent up sexual desire that had been building in him from imagining you in your sexy red dress.

“Oo-ohh, ye-esss, babb-byyy” you say broken up by each stroke that slams into your cervix. 

Wanting more, he switches his grip to your throat, pushing deeper with each thrust. Your eyes are rolling backwards with pleasure. You start to gasp for air as you feel yourself toppling over the edge leaving cream all over Kakashi’s cock. 

He adjusts his grip again, putting one hand on your neck and a pinky in your rear. Normally he’d save this for a punishment but he couldn’t resist. You were squirming so much already and he wanted to see your squirm more. A guttural groan fell out of your mouth as he slid in, making his stomach coil. 

You start to go limp after your orgasm so Kakashi flips you on your back, lifting your restrained legs over one shoulder, pulling you to the edge of your kitchen table. Your fingers once more curling around the edge for support. You gaze up at him with a look of satisfied exhaustion, smiling as he plows into you. He hugs your knees as he slows down. Stroking slow and even. You whine and wiggle around wanting him to go fast again. He centers your legs, knees stuck together, on his chest, letting your ankles fall open on either side of his head. 

He leans down, pressing your legs into your chest going in deep. He keeps a medium pace as he sticks a finger back in your mouth. You obediently suck on it hoping you’ll be rewarded with more speed. He sticks a second finger in. You accept it gladly. He starts to smile and adds a third finger. You willingly take it into your mouth sucking as drool starts to dribble out the corner of your lips. He adds a fourth finger stroking them in and out of your mouth. 

“You’re a greedy little slut tonight, aren’t you?”

“Mhm” you say with doe eyes. He smiles ready to give you your reward. He takes his hand out of your mouth and grabs your tit as he picks up the pace slamming into you over and over again. Your back arched off the table in ecstasy. His balls tightened as he watched your eyes roll back before squeezing shut. “That’s it Angel, let it out.”

You scream as your legs shake. Your back begins to convulse as he continues to split you in two during your orgasm. 

Kakashi’s toes curl as he’s close to cumming. At the last minute he pulls out and sprays his sticky ropes all over your chest. Still panting and catching your breath, you take a finger and wipe up some of his cum and bring it to your mouth. “Mmmm” you hum. Smiling at him as you lick.

He pulls you up by the back of your head to kiss you, even though he was still catching his own breath, he can’t help himself. He loves you and can’t think of a better way to show you. You know exactly what to do to drive him wild. He can’t get enough of your swollen lips. He inhales deep before releasing your mouth with several small kisses. Smiling at you, heart full. He goes to grab you a damp cloth to clean up your chest when he musters up the courage to ask:

“Would it be all that bad if I were your date to the Gala, officially speaking?”

“Huh?”

“If people were to know about us. Would it be so bad?”

“Kashi, we’ve been over this. I don’t want people to think I’m sleeping my way to the top, especially now that you’re Hokage.”

“Everyone knows how bright you are. No one would assume any merits you earn are because of me.”

“That’s all everyone will think. I wouldn’t be able to stand the scrutiny.”

“If anyone causes you trouble then they will have me to deal with.”

“And have you make it worse? I don’t think so.”

At that moment Obito came to your house. He was hoping to steal another moment with you but he heard Kakashi’s voice so he stayed outside, listening in on your conversation.

“So am I just going to be your secret forever?”

“No, just till you step down as Hokage.”

“Till I step down? That will be years. I don’t think I can hide you for that long.”

You cast your eyes down realizing how big a commitment that was to ask of him.

“Are you going to ask me to marry you in secret too? Be your secret husband? Cause I’m not waiting till I’m out of office to ask for your hand.”

Your eyes shot up wide. “You, you’ve thought about marrying me?”

Still outside eavesdropping, Obito felt he had been punched in the gut.

“Is that surprising to you?”

“I guess I hadn’t stopped to think about it.” Your stomach was doing flips realizing how serious Kakashi was about you. 

“You see my face every day. The last person to see my face was my father. What does that tell you?” he says playing with your hair.

“Kakashi…”

“You have my trust completely. I am yours forever.” He says, closing his hands around yours.

“I…I want all that with you. I do, but I’m not ready. I don’t know if I can handle what people will think and say. I’m sorry Kashi.”

Kakashi is having a hard time hearing your words. He starts to wonder if it has to do with Obito. He pulls up his mask and gets dressed. 

“Please don’t leave Kashi, please” you say, feeling panicked. Getting up off the table, tugging at his arm. You pull him into you, forcing him to hug you. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Kash. I wish I could change the way I feel, I do, but I’m not ready.” tears are leaking out of the corners of your eyes. 

“I’m sorry too. I need some time to think.” He pushes you away heading towards the door. 

“Kashi, Please!” Desperation thick in your voice. 

He turns around, pain painted all over his features. “Do you know what it’s like for me to watch men look at you thinking you’re single? What it’s like to hear how they talk about you knowing they believe you’re available for the taking? What it’s like to be in the same room as you but pretend you are nothing more than a colleague? It was fun in the beginning but I can’t do this forever.”

“You don’t think I go through the same thing? Every girl wants you. But you have nothing to lose, where I will lose the respect of all my peers. No one will take me seriously. Everything that I’ve worked for will be lost.”

“I will take you seriously. Me, the Hokage. Can’t that be enough?”

You swallow hard as you look down in thought. Kakashi kisses your forehead and whispers, “Come to me when you figure it out.” and with that he left. 

You stood there crying in your living room, staring at the door through which he left. You felt like he was asking you to choose between him and your career. It's not as simple as he makes it seem.

After a few moments you find it in yourself to move from where your feet were planted and begin putting your clothes back on, tears still streaming down your face.

Obito finally decided to make his presence known. He walked through your front door without knocking, “Now’s not the time, Obito.” you sniffle

He comes in and immediately hugs you, holding you in his warm embrace. “It’ll be okay Princess”

“You’re just saying that cause you hope it’s over between us.” you mutter into his chest beginning to cry even harder.

“No, Princess, I wouldn’t hope for anything that hurts you.” he whispers, moving you over to the couch to sit together. You look up at his face and believe him. That look in his eyes where the universe has shifted to revolve around you is front and center. He stays with you, holding you as you lay on his chest. “What can I do to help, Princess?”

“Be the Hokage” you say sarcastically with a hint of seriousness 

He lets out a small chuckle, “That used to be my dream, you know.”

“What changed?” you say with a sniffle

“I did some things that I can’t take back.”

Unsure of what to say, you choose to nestle into Obito in response. He had never been so vulnerable with you before.

Tightening his embrace he says to you,“You wouldn’t have to go through any of this if you were with me. It would be easy, the way it’s supposed to be.”

“Give it a rest Obito.”

He kisses your temple and continues to hold you, deciding to drop the topic. He stays with you till you cry yourself to sleep. He carries you to your bed and kisses your salty tear-stained cheek before leaving. His heart ached from how much he was beginning to love you. He was all but certain you would never leave Kakashi. It pained him to know you wouldn’t have to endure any of your fears if you would just choose him. Why wouldn’t you just choose him? He looked back at you longingly, over his shoulder, before shutting the door behind him.

Part 5 Masterlist

[miaajaade]

The Line Between Love and Hate-

III

Aemond Targaryen X Targaryen!F!OC (Rhaenyra and Daemon’s Daughter)

Previous: Prologue I II next: IV

A/N: ok so I finally got myself to where the story actually differs greatly to house of the dragon and the more creative juices need to flow I have no idea where this is going and I’m sorry if it sucks bad!

Series warnings: Age gap (both characters are of age), incest (Targaryen), death, future smut, slow-ish burn.

No minors under cut:

Everyone on Dragonstone were in high spirits after their journey, save of course for Visenya's father who was slow to trust anything the Hightowers did. Visenya was teaching her younger brothers Valyrian when it was announced that Rhaenys Valaryon had arived on dragon back. Rushing to greet her, Visenya found her mother and Daemon with grave looks on their faces.

"The greens are coming for you Rhaenyra." Visenya was confused at this, we had made peace she thought.

"Mother what is it? What's happening?" She went to her mothers side holding her hand.

"Your grandfather, Viserys, he's dead." Visenya looked at her confused, "They have crowned Aegon in front of the masses, they have usurped my throne."

"What? How? Why?" Visenya had questions bouncing back and forth in her mind, no single thought sticking. Someone had gone to fetch her brothers Daerion and Viserys who were sparring on the beach.

Later Ser Errick arrived, everyone stood on edge wondering why a kingsguard was on dragonstone. Daemon was ready to burn him, but he had always been slightly trigger happy. The knight produced King Viserys I crown, proclaiming that he fought for his queen. There and then they had a small ceremony for those on Dragonstone, crowning Rhaenyra as the Queen of Westeros. This moment signified that a war was very likely to come.

In preparation for what this may mean for them Her mother had tasked the boys to go to Storms End and Winterfell to remind the lords of their sworn fealty to her all those years ago when Rhaenyra was first named heir. Visenya begged her mother to let her go as well, but her mother had none of it, saying that she needed her on Dragonstone. For what, Visenya had no idea.

A Raven from Storms End arrived days later. Visenya had been in the chamber of the painted table with her mother when her father walked in whispering in her mothers ear. All Visenya could hear were the heartbreaking sobs of her mother. She could only think the worst. Viserys was dead.

"Mother? I- how?" Visenya's eyes were brimming with tears at the news she already knew.

" Aegon.. he had gone to Storms End himself, offering marriage to either Aemond or one of his sons. He chased Viserys on Sunfyre. Sunfyre clipped Arrax's wing and Viserys he.. he fell." She had continued on to tell her that Visery's body was dragged out of the water, and was being sent brought back to Dragonstone. Visenya couldn't believe it, she broke down in sobs as her mother brought her close and held her until she could breath. A raven was quickly sent off to Winterfell to bring Daerion back for the funeral. Rhaenyra announced that nothing would be done until the funeral, but Daemon wanted Aegon's head on a spike. Rhaenyra had none of this ordering Daemon to stand down, to mourn the death of his son. She needed him. Visenya in all her years had never seen her father as distraught as he was now.

Visenya had hoped there would be a day when her family could commune and be peaceful. Although she held disscontempt for her uncles she had never felt they had done anything unforgivable to her or her family. After the news from today however, she knew she could never stand the sight of either of them again. The only thing that filled her heart was hatred for the greens. She spent the rest of her days until the funeral hiding in her chambers. She often sat by the window, remembering the childhood she had shared with Viserys and how she longed to go back to simpler times.

The funeral was simple, just their family standing at the pyre offering items belonging to Viserys as they sent him off. As he burned we stood there, drowning in grief but ready to seek revenge for our fallen blood. Visenya was going to do whatever it took to avenge her brother. She would burn them all to the ground. She didn’t care how she would do it, only that she would dedicate her life to bringing him justice.

Unbeknownst to her however, Alicent sent a letter to Rhaenyra. A letter that Rhaenyra would take into consideration, a letter that would change Visenyas life.

My dear friend,

My heart breaks for you, for the loss of your son. A loss I could only imagine. A loss that would reduce to me nothing. I know I take fault in his death. But I am begging you. As a mother and your childhood companion to meet with me. I will come alone, you may bring who you wish. I want to offer you a solution to our perils, one that will not end in the death of anymore of our lineage. I want to offer you marriage, offer you the iron throne for one of your children. Please just give me the chance to explain my proposal.

With love,

Your Alicent

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"The Commander's Omega"

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: alpha/omega, dystopia, sex slavery, forced breeding, mutilation, rape, corporal punishment, fascism, hurt/comfort, power imbalance, mpreg, age gap (38/23), mentions of abortion, happy ending

Summary: After years of a mass infertility crisis, Bucky Barnes finds himself thrust into a brutal world of survival where he's forced to serve as a vessel: a caste of omegas who bear children for the political elite.

Chapter IV. Exit Wounds

Before:

Gunfire pops through the air: loud, sharp, fired in three round bursts. An hour ago it was distant, but now the whizzing sounds of bullets have gotten alarmingly close. Bucky turns his head and listens, trying to gauge proximity by the deep thwack of the bullets hitting the trees.

He’s taken cover inside of an abandoned RV in the woods. He’s wedged the door shut with a chair and is sitting propped up against the wall, in pain, his rifle laid down beside him. Leaves and trash litter the plywood floor. Whoever lived there before is long gone now. 

Bucky’s head snaps back to the wall as he begins to hear shouts in the near-distance. He curses under his breath, pulse ticking hard in his veins from all the adrenalin. It could be his men out there, or it could be approaching guardians. He’s got no way of knowing. He’d still be out there fighting with all the others, except for that he’s been shot in the leg. And, well … 

His eyes dart to the back of the trailer where Jenny’s stumbled to and dumped herself on the bed. She’s moaning even louder than before and Bucky feels like a royal fuck for sitting there on his ass, thinking of nothing but his own pain.

He grits his teeth and uses the stock of his M4 like a crutch to push himself up from the floor. “Ah!” he yelps, because fuck, does that ever hurt. But he clamps his mouth shut and bites his tongue until he can taste blood. He can’t go screaming and drawing attention to their position. He’s on his feet, leg throbbing terribly. His pants leg is torn and blood soaked from where the bullet went in. There’s no telling what caliber he’s been shot with, but he’s pretty sure there’s no exit wound. That’s not good news, but he tries to put it from his mind as he hobbles to the back of the RV where Jenny is.

She grimaces at him when she sees him. “Sorry!” she hisses. “I know. I know I’m being loud.”

Bucky scoffs. “You’re having a fucking baby.”

“God!” she sobs. “Yeah. Yeah I really am, aren’t I?”

Bucky smiles grimly, heart going out to her. “Just try your best to stay quiet, okay?” He knows it’s a shitty thing to say to a woman in labor, but Jenny’s not stupid; she knows what’s going on outside just as well as he does. They’re both omega. Neither one of them wants to be taken. 

Jenny groans as another contraction comes on. Outside, the bullets and the shouts are getting louder, closer. “Shit,” Bucky hisses. He reaches down and unholsters his sidearm, sliding it on the bed towards Jenny’s hand. “Safety’s on,” he warns. “Ten rounds.” She’s straining and grimacing with her eyes closed as she works through the contraction, but Bucky catches the small nod she gives him. “Okay,” he says. Good.” 

He limps back out to the front of the RV and positions himself by the window over the kitchen sink. It’s a decent line of sight, if the fighting gets close enough, but he can’t do anything about the fact that he’s exposed from the position. Oh well, he thinks. He’ll just have to make sure he shoots the fastest. He’s had great luck so far.

The fighting draws nearer, and before he knows it Bucky’s taking out enemy fighters left and right. At least the guardians wear uniforms. It makes them easily distinguishable from the rebels, easier to pick off. Bucky gets maybe fifteen, twenty guardians on the ground before the trailer door busts open, the chair propped behind it splintering like a bunch of toothpicks. Three guardians burst in, and Bucky’s only able to shoot one of them before they wrestle his rifle away and punch him square in the face, knocking him out cold.

After:

The bathwater sloshes gently against the sides of the tub as Bucky shifts to grab the bar of soap from its ledge by the windowsill. He soaps up his shoulders and rubs the suds around absentmindedly. He’s been finding himself daydreaming a lot lately. Not that it’s unusual for him. Daydreaming is one of the only things he has left to fill his time, and he’s been remembering his days with the resistance, in particular.

He’d fought with them for almost a year. It’d felt like five. Bucky knows that his mom and sisters are out of the country now, and that thought is one of the few that bring him comfort. He knows they’re safe. He knows that. By some small miracle, he’d been able to receive a letter from them a few months after they’d crossed the border into Canada. In it, his mother had written that they’d received official refugee status and were being hospitably housed in an elderly man’s townhome in Toronto, and she’d urged Bucky to give up the fighting and come be safe with them.

He hadn’t, of course. He’d been so naïve back then, with such a hero complex. So of course he’d chosen to stay and fight. It’d gotten him fuck all. But even now, sitting in lukewarm bathwater in Commander Rogers’ house, Bucky can’t bring himself to regret having fought. It’d been the right thing to do. If he hadn’t been captured he’d still be fighting today. He knows it.

He glances down at his body, brings his left leg up out of the sudsy water to thumb at the skin of his thigh. The scar tissue is pale now, almost indistinguishable from the rest of his skin. He runs his fingers over the smooth and bumpy texture of where the bullet had gone (and where it’d been none-too-professionally dug back out), thinking about that last fight. It’d been a shame, he thinks. He could’ve killed a lot more of the bastards if he’d only had a spot up in the trees. But instead he’d been stuffed inside that old tin can of a trailer, only slightly less of a sitting duck than the woman giving birth in the back.  

He lets his leg slip back under the water with a sigh.

He never did find out what happened to Jenny or her baby.

“—o’clock today! Attendance is mandatory for all vessels!”

Bucky’s in the supermarket when the announcement rings out, pumped through the speakers out on the street. He can’t hear it clearly from inside the store, so he waits for the cashier to ring up his apples and other produce items. He pays with the appropriate tokens and then goes outside to listen to the announcement.

It’s a particicution they’re announcing, and Bucky’s blood goes cold. Oh god. Not again.

“Ugh, I wanted to go home and take a nap,” Bucky’s assigned walking partner complains as he rejoins him on the sidewalk, his own netted shopping bag filled with fish and ham from the deli next door. “Why can’t they just do this on their own?” he bemoans. “What do they really need us for anyway?”

“It’s to keep us afraid,” Bucky mutters. He still isn’t too sure what Ofjohn’s persuasion is. The entire point of having walking partners is so that they’ll report on each other. Ratting out the misbehaviors and thoughtcrimes of others has become something of a national sport under Gilead, so Bucky can’t be too forward with what he says around Ofjohn. “It’s to remind us what happens to criminals.”

Ofjohn glances at Bucky’s left sleeve that he’s got pinned up. “Like we could forget.” 

Bucky’s lips thin but he doesn’t say anything. It’s true. He is a walking reminder for all the other vessels, a glaring billboard that screams: “Fuck up badly enough, and you could wind up like this guy.”

“Better get a move on,” Ofjohn says. He gestures with his shopping basket. “Gotta get this stuff home before it spoils.”

“Right,” Bucky says distractedly. He follows along after the other man, still not sure what to think of his new walking partner.

That afternoon’s particicution is like all the others Bucky’s attended in the past. It takes place in what was once a high school football stadium. With so few children being born since the advent of the fertility crisis, most of the schools have long since been repurposed. Nobody ever said the faithful weren’t resourceful. 

Guardians holding the same guns that Bucky used to fight with tell them where to sit, and they all take their places, kneeling in neat lines in front of the stage that’s been erected for the occasion. The stadium’s speakers are blaring Gilead’s national anthem overhead (Bucky’s never learned the words) as if they’re assembled for a celebration, rather than the somber occasion it really is.

A caretaker ascends the stage, a handful of other caretakers at her back. They all smile down at the kneeling vessels like they’re glad to see them there—and hey, Bucky thinks, maybe they actually are. It’s hard to figure out how the minds of the faithful work sometimes. 

“Good afternoon!” The lead caretaker says, speaking into the microphone that’s been placed on the stage. “I’m so glad to see you all here. Blessed day!”

“Blessed day!” they all echo back to her. Even Bucky says it, the response rote at this point.

“Good, good.” The caretaker sobers. “Now, we all know why we’re here today. We are one nation, under God. Each and every one of us has a duty in this new, blessed society. Sometimes duty is joyous, but sometimes it is also hard. When we’re confronted with sinners among us, we must remember our duty.” She looks behind the stage and nods to someone unseen. A moment later, two guardians come into view with a handcuffed man between them. They haul the man up onto the stage, and Bucky tenses up at the sight of him.

“Ohmygod,” he breathes, speaking in that quiet, motionless way that all vessels eventually master. He can sense several pairs of eyes sliding his way.

“What?” someone breathes back.

Bucky swallows heavily. “I know him. We went to school together.” He’d been in Bucky’s grade from the time they were kids and all the way through high school: Bradley Barnett.  An alpha. Kinda shy. Nice kid, as far as Bucky was ever able to tell. He’d always come directly after Bucky, in alphabetical roll calls. 

He looks older now. And drained, as if he’s fought and fought hard, but now all the fight’s gone out of him. He’s got bruises from being beaten already, and his face is all blotchy and tear-stained from crying. But he isn’t crying now. Now, he just looks resigned. Bucky swallows, recognizing that look more than he’d like to admit. He can remember feeling that way, right after they’d pulled the bag off his head and dragged him out of the van and into the red center four years ago. Defeat. That’s the look.

“This man, right here,” the caretaker at the microphone is saying, pointing her finger at Bradley like he’s the scum of the earth. “This man has been convicted of the crime of kidnapping.”

All around, the other vessels start murmuring. There’s shifting and stirring in the neat rows that they’ve formed.

“Quiet please! That’s not the worst of it, I’m afraid.”

Bucky’s eyes drift fearfully back up to the stage, to the guardians holding Bradley’s arms. Oh no, he thinks, dread welling up in his stomach. What are they going to say? What are they going to say he did?

“This man is a rapist.”

The murmuring intensifies. 

“He raped a vessel.”

Louder, with a few people crying out, upset. Bucky is holding stock still and feeling sick to his stomach as Bradley hangs limply in the guardians’ hold.

“The vessel was pregnant!”

Louder.

“The baby died!”

Everyone erupts, all the other vessels yelling and crying out in rage. The only thing that keeps them where they sit, Bucky knows, is the multitude of guardians with rifles pointed their way. But they’re all shifting and stirring like caged, furious animals. The woman directly in front of Bucky is so distressed that she’s pulling viciously at her hair. 

God, Bucky thinks, wanting to reach out and stop her. Everyone’s gone batty. His eyes shoot back up to the stage. Bradley is trembling now. Bucky wonders if he knows what’s about to happen to him, but decides that the answer is: probably not. He’d be peeing his pants by now, if he knew.

Well, he’ll be finding out soon enough.

“All right everyone. All of you, up up up, quick and orderly!” the caretaker chirps down at them. Bucky rises with the rest of the group and goes to join the large circle in the grass that they always form at events like this. The guardians drag Bradley down from the stage and into the center of the circle, then leave him there. Bucky doesn’t look at Bradley any more. There’s no point. Instead, he taps his fingers together in a staccato against his palm, running his old serial number through his mind on a loop – 32557038, 32557038 – hoping to be sunken deep in his head by the time they have to start this terrible thing they’re about to do.

“You know the rules of a particicution,” the caretaker at the microphone says. “Once I blow my whistle, you may begin. When I blow the whistle again, everyone stops.”

He keeps tapping, keeps cycling through the numbers: 32557038, 32557038, 325570—

The whistle blows, sharp and shrill, and everyone screams and rushes forward.

Bucky doesn’t remember the walk back from the particicution. The first thing that registers is the front door, which he stumbles through, feeling dazed and overwhelmed. He pushes it shut weakly behind himself, shutting the house back up into its usual dimness. The grandfather clock in the hall ticks rhythmically, back and forth. Bucky’s fingers twitch where they hang by his side.

He trails slowly down the hall, head buzzing. He’s got a faint intention of going up to his room, but it’s nascent, only half-formed. He’s just outside of Commander Rogers’ study when the door to the room opens and he steps out. He startles at the sight of Bucky, features quickly melting into a frown. “Bucky? What’s wron—” he breaks off, seeing Bucky’s distressed state, his rumpled clothes, his bloodied hand. “Bucky what happened?” He grabs Bucky’s shoulders and stares at him imploringly. “Bucky? Are you hurt?”

“… No,” Bucky breathes. “M’not.”

“Whose blood is this?” Steve asks, voice urgent. Bucky’s eyes flick up. The look of worry and confusion on Steve’s face is such an oddity. And for some reason, Bucky starts to giggle—only a little at first, and then a lot. Steve’s frown deepens. “What happened?”

Bucky giggles some more. When he’s finally able to stop, he just says, “Particicution,” and then starts giggling again. And it gets really bad as Steve’s face bleeds into understanding, and then pity. The giggles somehow morph into sobs, until Steve’s pulling him forward against his body and Bucky’s crying into his shoulder, the air leaving him in great, heaving gasps. “No, no no,” he hyperventilates. “I had to. We had to.”

“Come on,” Steve says quietly, and pulls Bucky into his office.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, after they’ve been sitting on the office’s opposing couches for some time. Steve’s got a fire roaring in the hearth between them. Its warmth replaces some of the body heat Bucky feels like he’s lost from the shock of the day. Steve’s also placed a blanket around his shoulders, and Bucky grips it tighter about himself as best he can with his one hand. There are still flecks of blood crusted under his fingernails.

“Nothing to say,” Bucky murmurs. “We ripped him apart.”

Steve is quiet for a long moment. It’s obvious he’s trying to think of what to say. “It’s not your fault.”

“I tried to kick him in the face,” Bucky says dully, only peripherally aware of how Steve freezes. “It’s what I always do. If you do it hard enough, you can knock ‘em out right away. Before …” He stops and sucks in a trembling breath, determined not to start crying again now that he’s finally gotten himself under control. “Before … the rest.”

Steve sighs. “You tried to spare him, Buck. That's good. You tried to do a good thing.”

“Didn’t work this time,” Bucky mutters. “He was screaming for a while.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, but the tension in the air between them feels heavy and oppressive. Silently, he gets up and goes over to the room’s sideboard, uncaps the whiskey and pours from the crystal decanter into one of the matching glasses. He comes back over and sits next to Bucky on the couch. “Here,” he says gently. “If you want.”

Bucky looks at the glass Steve’s offering him and considers it. Any other time he’d probably be shocked and on-guard, wary that this could be another trick, a test. But not now. Now he’s exhausted and the burn of whiskey sliding down his throat sounds like an excellent idea. He releases the blanket from his hand and takes the proffered glass, downing a large sip with a grimace. “Ugh. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Steve knows as well as he does that vessels aren’t allowed to drink alcohol. But Bucky can tell that, much like the reading, this is another little infraction that his Commander is going to allow him. Beside him, Steve sinks back into the couch cushions. “You going to be okay?”

Bucky scoffs quietly. “Gonna have to be, aren’t I?” When Steve doesn’t say anything back, he just shakes his head. “It’s weird. I used to fight in the resistance, you know?” He shrugs his left shoulder, indicating his missing arm. “S’why I lost this.”

“Bucky you don’t have to explain yourself to—”

“I killed a lot of people back then. Dozens and dozens. Shot people from hundreds of yards away, watched their skulls collapse through my scope.” He takes another big, rueful sip of the whiskey. “So you’d think I’d be used to this stuff by now.”

Steve makes a noise of protest. “It’s not the same, Bucky. What they make you all do at those things …” He shakes his head. “It’s traumatic. There’s no way it couldn’t be.”

“Hm.” Bucky nods. “They taught us some things in the resistance. Some simple techniques, for resisting torture.” He glances at Steve. “I tried using them today, to sink into my head.” He stares at the whiskey, swirls what’s left in the glass around a few times, admires the color, and then tilts it back and downs it in a long series of gulps.

“Jesus Bucky.”

He slams the glass down on the coffee table, exhaling harshly and licking his lips. “It didn’t fucking work.”

Story Masterlist

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[starker-raving-mads]

For you: Part IV

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX

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"It's easier if we come up to see you," Bucky had said, Steve murmuring his agreement in the background of the phone call. "We're gonna be in the city anyway and besides, ain't it better to do it where you can do all the scans and stuff?"

The plan was sound, and made sense to Peter at the time. But here and now, with Captain America and the Winter Soldier making their way up to the penthouse labs in Stark Tower, the vigilante was questioning his judgement.

"Fri do we - "

"Yes, Mother, we have the schematics loaded and ready for display in both holographic and flat form."

"Okay, okay but do you think - "

"You've practiced attaching and detaching the device enough times that your fluidity of movement has increased by 313%."

"Sure but - "

"Peter," the AI cut off the teen's frantic questions. He fell silent, chagrined; she rarely called him Peter anymore and when she did, he knew it was because he was being too much.

He let out a deep sigh.

"Okay, I get it," he gave up. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be I guess."

"You are," the super intelligence agreed. "I'm glad you've come to see reason. Sergeant Barnes and Captain Rogers will arrive on the elevator in ETA 10 seconds."

They were coming by so that Peter, 18-year-old, clumsy Peter, could attach Bucky's new prosthetic based on Mr. Stark's assemblage instructions. He was, for lack of any better words, fucking terrified.

It wasn't so much that Bucky and Cap scared him, at least not any more. He had a healthy respect for the pair after everything they'd gone through, but the few meet ups he'd had with the group as a whole had made him appreciate the less-obvious qualities that each hero had in turn. Sure, Bucky was scary as heck in a fight, but outside of that he was quiet and kind of contemplative. Steve was the driving force for optimism and doing the right thing - and also an absolute mother hen.

Instead it was the fact that he was basically going to be attaching this thing, that he did not create, that cost Mr. Stark probably at least a million dollars? Onto the body of a super soldier while his - best friend or boyfriend or whatever they were, Peter really never got clarification - watched over his shoulder. He was having performance anxiety, big time.

He concentrated on those better qualities of theirs as the elevator door opened.

An hour later, he wasn't sure why he'd be so scared in the first place.

"You're really a natural at all this, huh?" Steve asked, peering over all the holodisplays Friday had helpfully pulled up for Peter as he went along attaching circuitry, wires, and faceplates. The blonde's eyes were wide trying to take everything in while Peter, finally confident in the face of the older man's perplexity, worked slowly but surely on finishing the attachment of Bucky's new arm.

"Sort of," the teen chuckled. "Mostly it's just that I spent so long growing up without any of the bells and whistles - oops, sorry," he grimaced after a slight spark made Bucky flinch. They were bound to happen, given that the battery that was Bucky's natural electrical system couldn't be turned off like one could a computer they were changing the parts in. " - that now that I've got all this stuff to make it so much easier, it's more understandable than it probably would've been otherwise, if that makes sense."

Bucky hummed in agreement. "Kinda like training with weights then goin' into the fight without 'em on." His Brooklyn accent was stronger than it had been before. Maybe it meant more of his old self was returning. The thought made Peter happy for the other man.

"Yeah, yeah exactly!"

"You know, I always thought Tony was one of a kind with how smart he was," Steve admitted after a few more moments of silence scattered with the light clinks of metals and wires being maneuvered in Peter's sure hands. "And he is, I'm not saying he wasn't, but you really do him justice here, Pete."

Peter ducked his head, flush blossoming in a great pink wave across his cheeks and the back of his neck.

"Nah," he disagreed quietly. "I'm nothing special. I bet there's thousands more people who would be able to put all this to better use." He sighed.

"No they wouldn't," Bucky said in a sure, firm tone. Peter looked up at him, his curls - getting too long, needing a cut - falling slightly across his eyes. "I've seen a lot of people, kid, and trust me, you are one in a billion."

Peter's breath caught and he stared at the assassin in shocked silence. He was brought out of it when Steve laid one of his large hands over Peter's slight shoulder, engulfing him in warmth.

"Buck's right, son," Steve agreed. A warmth Peter hadn't known since before Uncle Ben passed away washed over him. Something that felt like acceptance and family all rolled into one.

"Thanks," he replied quietly to the both of them. Steve kept his hand there for just long enough that Peter could pull on that warm memory with ease later.

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"Shoulda seen him, Pete," Bucky said, tossing a foam football to Steve, who tossed it to the teen, who tossed it back to Bucky in a smooth triangle stretching across the lab. "Stevie used to be a beanpole - short and tiny and yet had the bite of a gator wrapped up in all that acne and asthma," he chuckled.

"Yeah, yeah, live it up, wise guy," Steve replied, smile taking any bite that might've been there right back out of it.

They were, ostensibly, calibrating Bucky's arm. Peter had finished with the installation a while ago and had gone back a few times to make some minor adjustments. They'd been tossing the toy ball that was he and Mr. Stark's 'thinking ball' between themselves to test the arm's dexterity, reliability, and maneuverability, but the spider was pretty sure it was as good as it could be at this point without a real endurance test. Still though. He was having fun, relaxing with his new friends. He could unwind with them in a way that Ned and MJ just couldn't do for him. He tried not to feel bad for spending so much time away from his friends but his life was just so - different, now. He'd make it up to them.

"I used to have asthma too," the teen admitted, tossing the ball to Bucky again. "And glasses, and all sorts of problems." He shrugged, catching the ball from Steve. "The bite kind of cleared all of that up, though I still have problems with the cold."

"Oh yeah?" Bucky asked, thoughtful.

"Never really knew why, just seemed to stick around, honestly feels a little worse but I don't know if it's just like that in comparison to like having none of the other stuff to distract my senses from it."

"You know," Bucky drawled, pausing as he caught the ball, holding it cocked against his hip. "Spiders can't thermoregulate. It's why you never see 'em in winter." Peter and Steve both blinked at him. In an act of absolute insanity, the winter soldier blushed. "What?" he asked, defensive, throwing the ball more firmly than necessary at Steve. "I read!"

"I never really thought of that," the younger man admitted. "That might actually bear looking into. Hey, Fri?"

"Yes, Mother?"

"Can you make a note to research that?"

"Of course, Mother. Also, this is your reminder that it is 2pm and you have not yet eaten."

"Thanks, Friday," he grinned. He caught the older men looking at him. "What?"

"Mother?" Steve and Bucky asked in unison, smirks firmly in place. He covered his face with his hands and groaned.

Peter had lunch delivered from his and May's favorite Thai place, leaving a hefty tip. It was still weird to him to just…having access to money now. He hadn't really used it except to pay for things like food and help May with bills and pay for his enrollment to Columbia. He was relieved, honestly, that the sudden influx of cash and power hadn't gone to his head. He liked to think it wouldn't but he was as human as everyone else and he'd seen good people do terrible things for cash.

Lunch with Steve and Bucky was good. It felt just like a continuation of the last few hours they'd spent together, like hanging out and just being friends. Refreshing, after everything. He'd answered embarrassing questions - like why Friday called him Mother (and then teased Steve for not getting the reference, even though Bucky somehow did), establishing a promise to have some kind of movie night so that he and Bucky could show Steve the legendary Alien films, and of course answering even more awkward questions.

"So no girlfriend?"

"Uh, nope, no not right now."

"Boyfriend?"

"Uh - "

"It's okay if you have a boyfriend, you know - "

"Or even a nonbinary partner! I hear that's a thing now, too, though I guess it always was and we just never really talked about it - "

"What Steve means, Pete, is no judgement from us. What's judgin' ever got anybody anyway?"

"Thanks guys, but no, no partners of any kind right now."

"Hmmm."

"What's that look for?"

"Still hung up on Tony, huh?"

"W-what??"

"It's okay, I get it, Stark was a handsome man. Don't look at me like that, Stevie, I know you ain't blind."

So yeah, awkward. Though, kind of sweet too? It was really kind of Bucky and Steve to just get it when it came to him and his feelings for Mr. Stark, as unrequited as they would always be. Felt a little easier to breath after that conversation, honestly. Ned and MJ had teased him constantly about his crush on Mr. Stark. May had too, for a while, though she'd stopped after - well after everything.

Apparently the billionaire and his aunt had done a lot to support each other while he was Blipped. Aunt May talked about Tony a lot differently, more supportive and less teasingly, than she ever had before.

He sighed, exhausted, spinning on his stool in the lab. Steve and Bucky had left a little while ago and he was still lost in his thoughts. He needed to stop thinking about this. About Tony Stark. He looked around.

"Guess it's kind of hard to not think about him when literally everything looks like he's about to walk right back in," he said to himself. He didn't want to get rid of any of it, but - "Fri, baby?"

"Yes, Mother?"

"Put on the Stark-Parker Playlist #3. I've got some cleaning to do."

He spent the next two hours decluttering everything he could. Pens and pencils back where they belonged, rinsing out the coffee machine, papers getting filed away, tools and loose screws and wires being organized. In the end, the lab looked cleaner than he could ever remember it being. And it still felt like Tony, for sure, but it also felt like a breath of fresh air.

He slid his stool across the room to the last filing cabinet. He knew this was where all the experimental files got stored, just random notes on thought experiments and the like. All the real experiments - the weapons and suit projects - were all stored in Friday's cloud, but bits and pieces of physical hardware were inevitably tossed here.

As he pulled things out and arranged them on the floor to get some sense of what exactly was in the cabinet, he slowly realized that the things he was pulling out weren't exactly random. His piles were forming a pattern on the floor, piles of notes about holographic improvements next to auditory transcription, and weirdly a pile about how birds can mimic sound with their vocal patterns.

He stepped back from the landscape he created, scratching his head.

"Friday?" he called, tilting his head back and forth as though he were looking at a picture that was just slightly out of order.

"Yes, Mother?"

"What the hell am I looking at?" he asked. He was slightly frustrated. He could tell all this went together but - but not how. Like a puzzle missing one too many pieces.

"On the floor in front of you are assorted piles of - "

"No, no," he shook his head. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he said, "Sorry, I should've been more clear."

"It is okay, Mother. I am still learning. What is it you would like to know?"

"It looks like all of this - stuff - the notes and the research and things - like they all go together. Was Mr. Stark working on something?"

Friday was quiet for a moment before saying, "Yes, though I am not sure he ever meant for the research to be conclusive or be shared." Her voice was hesitant.

"So, he stopped researching?" Peter asked, mind turning over what the man could've possibly been working on.

"Yes."

"Was it because he hit a dead end?" The thought of being able to finish something that Mr. Stark couldn't was invigorating.

"Yes and no." Peter narrowed his eyes, looking up - even though, technically, Friday was everywhere in this lab.

"Fri, what are you holding back from me? It's not - " he paused, " - it's not dangerous is it?"

"Not in the manner a weapon might be." He groaned.

"Friday," he said in the same tone Aunt May used on him when he was edging around a subject.

He figured he might've gotten it down right when she answered, "Boss had been investigating the best and most accurate methods of recreating natural intelligence."

"So, a new form of AI," Peter clarified.

"No," she replied, more softly. "I believe, based on the results of some of his testing, that he was attempting to recreate a previously known organic intelligence." A pause, and Peter's spidey-sense tingled, ever so slightly. "He was attempting to recreate your intelligence, Mother."

It felt as though the floor had dropped out from under him, his stomach doing a wicked somersault. He had the vaguest sense of vertigo, like he'd missed grabbing a web when slinging high between two buildings in downtown.

"Why - " his voice clicked, throat dry from shock. "Why would he - ?"

"If I were to posit," Friday said in that same slightly gentle tone. "I have watched you and Boss both, together and on an individual basis. From some of the similar actions you both have taken, I can extrapolate that, in the best way I am currently able to describe," she paused, like she did not like the uncertain nature of the information she was about to unveil, "he was attempting to create such an intelligence because he missed you, Mother."

[crazylittlejester]

HIIII YOU!! I hope you're doing sooo well, I just wanna send in an ask because I miss you. dearly. as I always do. I'm so sappy and I just feel so hurt seeing you hurt because no one should be hurting :((

small itty bitty adventure thing i guess but I went to the hospital yesterday for an appointment, got something in my arm which SURPRISINGLY didn't hurt or pinch this time?? weird????? but I was starving so my mom let me buy a jumbo pretzel and some chocolate so I was happy :3 (I could go on about how tasty pretzels are oh my god AND WITH THE CHEESE AHHHHH)

and then after school I met up with my mom and brother again to get some stuff for my brothers new job he's secured with some of the neighbors, it's so adorable that he's still young yet managing to help out people and earn money..... shedding a tear.... also big mention but places have christmas decorations already and oh my god they are soooooo cute ARGH I love shopping for decorations of any kind it's so fun and so silly to find all sorts of stuff

anyways that was all the interesting stuff that happened yesterday, I'm also going on a trip this saturday so hooray!!!!!! long ass plane ride here i come!!!! /sarc

hopefully this makes you a little more happy, you're always sharing your adventures with me and all the stuff that happens with you so I thought I'd share some of my own stuff with you too!! that is, if anything interesting DOES end up happening lmao

MAKE SURE TO STAY AWESOME AS ALWAYS AND I LOVE YOUU MY FRIEND!! /P

HI HELLO!! i miss you too, im sorry i haven’t sent an ask your way in a while, ive been so drained i haven’t had the energy to do anything. there’s been no adventures, i literally have gone a full month without buying gas because i just Do Not leave my house 😭

i hope ur doing good and that your arm is okay, AND ALSO SLAY DUDE, I LOVE PRETZELS. im devastated because 4 years ago they took the pretzel place out of the mall that was allergy safe for me and nothing on this earth has hit the same since so i’ve determined to try every soft pretzel in my area until i can find the best one aldkdkdk. i LOVE pretzels 🫶 so so much

ISTG THE CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS WENT UP AT MIDNIGHT NOVEMBER 1ST, how did they put up all the trees that fast 😭 where did the spooky things go they’re all GONE (i still have my spooky things out, i like my skeleton candles :3 )

dawg you travel so much thats so cool, i hope you have fun wherever you’re going!! i have the urge to go on a roadtrip once i have more energy (and gas in my car), adventure calls to me ✨

hearing from you always makes me happy dude, i love to hear you yap :) YOU STAY AWESOME AS WELL, AND TRAVEL SAFE. ILY MWAH /p

BTW I WAS SCROLLING THROUGH BLUESKY LAST NIGHT COS ID JUST MADE MY ACC AND YOU JUST POPPED UP AND I SCREAMED LIKE “OH MY GOD I KNOW THAT GUY?????” AT LIKE 3 IN THE MORNING, BECAUSE I LITERALLY DONT KNOW HOW SOCIAL MEDIA OTHER THAN TUMBLR WORKS (im stupid) AND I WAS JUST SCROLLING AND MESSING AROUND AND THERE YOU WERE AKSMDMDMDM

[cptrackham]

Fic: A man is not dead while his name is still spoken

1,707 words. Set during Rebels, ft. Captain Rex.

A short story, because I refuse to believe that the clones' story - their mistreatment, abuse, betrayal - was allowed to fade into obscurity, until all that was left was three old men hiding out on Seelos. AO3 link here.

Kallus was waiting for them when the Ghost touched down on Yavin IV.

Or rather, waiting for Rex.

“Mothma and Organa are waiting for you, Conference room four,” Kallus muttered to him, as the rest of the squad began off-boarding procedures and checks.

What for?” Hera demanded. Ever the protector “Rex, you need me to come with?”

But Rex waved her off, running a hand over his bald head. “No, it’s alright,” he sighed. “I think I know what it’s about.”

It’s not like it was a secret. The news had even reached the Outer Rim by now. A scandal like this, news travels fast.

But not many people would know what it means to Rex. Organa was perhaps one of the last few to understand.

As the door slid open to the conference room, Mon Mothma and Bail Organa turned to face Rex with a sorrowful expression he’d become far too familiar with over his long years (metaphorically speaking). He hated it. “Senators,” he greeted.

Bail, only there as a full-sized hologram, smiled at him. “Rex, it’s good to see you,” Bail said, in a gentle tone that only served to put Rex more on edge. He didn’t want to have this conversation.

So he cut straight to the point. “I’ve already heard,” he said, perhaps a bit sharper than intended. “They’re playing it on the news in every port. Riyo – Senator Chuchi’s death. What happened?”

“As far as the public is aware, she died of a heart-attack following a particularly stressful debate in the Senate,” Mon Mothma said. “But, there is cause to suspect foul play was involved.”

Rex nodded. “Of course there is. Can we prove it?”

“It’s unlikely,” Bail said. “The press report was issued by Palpatine’s own office, they won’t allow an autopsy to reveal anything, and any dissidents – I’m sorry, Rex. With Riyo’s death, it’s clearer than ever that we are losing our grip in the Senate.”

For most of his life, Rex’s face had been hidden under his bucket, emotions indecipherable. He still hadn’t quite got the hang of schooling his expression. He took a deep breath, and forced his scowl to fade. It wasn’t their fault. Stars knew Bail did all he could. “I see. I… thank you, for thinking of me.”

“Of course,” Bail said, quickly, one translucent hand reaching forward as if the hologram could comfort him. “I know how close you and Riyo were, in the early days.”

“But, Captain, there is something else,” Mon Mothma cut in.

Intrigued against his better judgement, Rex glanced between the two of them. Bail was no longer quite meeting his gaze, and Mon Mothma had clasped her hands behind her back in that way she did before starting an important speech. “Oh?” Rex asked, hesitant.

“Riyo was a vocal component of our campaigning,” Mon Mothma said. “The most vital spokesperson in the senate, in fact. With her gone, we have, as Bail said, lost our hold in the Senate, and any hope we had of passing de-escalation, de-militarisation, and reparation bills has dropped significantly. In fact, we’re taking steps to withdraw key figures to positions of safety.”

“Including myself,” Bail cut in, with a wry smile. “I will be returning to Alderaan on a more permanent basis.”

“And, unfortunately, it means we’re having to abandon some of our current campaigns, even some of our most long-running ones.” Mon Mothma hesitated again. “Including Senator Chuchi’s Clone Rights bill.”

Rex almost laughed. Was this what they were so concerned about? For all Riyo’s efforts, that bill had died a slow and painful death years ago. “I understand, Senator,” he said, hoping Mon Mothma hadn’t yet spent enough time around soldiers to pick up the ‘no shit sir’ undertone.

But Bail raised a hand, as if to ask Rex to wait a moment. “We aren’t happy with this,” he said. “I, personally, cannot allow Riyo’s work to be dismissed so easily, not when she has probably lost her life because of how much she cared. So we were hoping you would help us take this case to an even more ruthless court.”

Rex frowned at him. What other court? All there was, was the Empire. And it wasn’t like the Rebellion had anywhere near enough funds to provide the pensions Riyo had promised.

Bail smiled. “The court of public opinion,” he clarified.

Mon Mothma took over, as if practiced. “We want to share the clone’s story,” she said. “Your story. It is, perhaps, one of the clearest examples of how underhand, how manipulative, how immoral the Empire and Palpatine himself are. It shows how everyone has been played for fools since before the war even started,” she said, passionate, and Rex remembered that Mon Mothma had been a Separatist. “It shows how none of us had a choice, how so many of us died for nothing. You and your brothers most of all. If you – and any of your brothers – would be able to share your story, it could make a huge impact on how the Empire is perceived. It could sway a lot of people.”

Rex took another steadying breath.

She wasn’t wrong.

“My brothers and I,” Rex said, slowly, parsing through his thoughts as he spoke, “Have spent a long time fighting to get out of the eye of the Empire. They gave us their attention once. It wasn’t good.”

Very few people knew the full truth of what the clones has lost, following Order 66. Mon Mothma and Bail at least knew enough to flinch at Rex’s harsh understatement.

“We understand,” Bail said. “I don’t expect you to come to a decision quickly. Take the time you need.”

“But don’t wait too long, Captain,” Mon Mothma said. “The Empire will make everyone forget Riyo Chuchi soon enough.”

Rex stared at her, unsure whether to resent her callousness, or admire the cold practicality. A solider through-and-through, he was leaning towards the latter.

He didn’t say anything else. He couldn’t, thoughts too full of his history, the chance to share it, and Riyo.

Falling back on muscle memory, he saluted, about-turned, and walked from the room.

**

It was Zeb who found him later. “You’re moping,” he said, nudging Rex to shuffle along the crate he was sat on and make room.

Rex sighed. “I’m old. I’ve seen a lot of shit. Sometimes, it requires moping. I’ve earned a good mope every now and then.”

Zeb chuckled. “Yeah, but no one’s allowed to mope alone. Hera’s orders.”

“I’ll be fine Zeb.”

“I know that. Want to take it up with Hera?”

Rex smiled – for a couple of seconds.

Zeb let him sit a silence for a good long while, the lasat instead paying attention to the bowl of food he’d brought with him. Rice dish, a concerning shade of red.

Most of the food was gone before Zeb spoke again. “You want to talk about it?” he asked, through a full mouth.

An easy dismissal sat on tip of Rex’s tongue, but he hesitated. Bail had said he understood, and he might have meant it with all the genuine goodwill in the galaxy, but he didn’t. He couldn’t.

Rex hesitated, before asking, “If you could tell everyone what happened on Lasan – the massacre, the ion disruptor rifles, how you’ve been persecuted and hunted since – would you do it?”

“Yes,” Zeb said, without hesitation, with an air of finality, and through another full mouth.

“Even if you knew it would put a high-priority target on the back of every lasat who survived?”

Zeb’s fork paused halfway to his mouth. He hesitated, then lowered it back to the bowl, swallowing his current mouthful loudly. “Alright,” he said, voice carefully measured, “that’s a bit of a problem, I’ll give you that. Is this a theoretical exercise?”

Rex shrugged. “Not exactly.”

Zeb fell silent again, food abandoned. “I think,” Zeb said, eventually, “that telling the truth is as much about stopping it happening to other planets, other cultures, as much as it’s about getting justice for me an’ mine. I think any lasat who lives is already suffering enough that another target ain’t gonna make that much of a difference. I think any lasat who’s survived this long, can take care of themselves. And I think I’d owe it to all who came before to have their death mean something, not just to me, but to anyone else who’d listen.”

Having said his piece, Zeb took another mouthful of rice and kept eating.

A few more bites in silence later, Zeb swallowed and asked, “Did that help?”

“Yeah,” Rex said. “Yeah, that helped.”

“Good. Now let’s go get you fed, before Hera hunts us down and skins me for wilful neglect of an elder.”

**

Rex went to Mon Mothma’s office early the next morning.

“I can’t promise you anything,” he said, before she could speak, “I can’t even say how many I’ll be able to contact, let alone how many will agree to it. But I’m going to need a bunch of brand-new encrypted channels, and a really long-range transmitter.”

**

**

“I am CT-7567, Captain Rex of the 501st Legion, CO of Torrent Company.”

“CC-36 36, Commander Wolffe of the 104th Wolfpack Battalion.”

“CT-9901, or Sergeant Hunter, CO of Clone Force 99.”

“I am ARC Trooper Echo, formally of the 501st and Clone Force 99.”

“I served as Sergeant Hound in the Coruscant Guard, this is Grizzer.”

“Commander Bly, CC-5052, of the 327th Star Corps, serving under General Aayla Secura.”

“I am CC-2224, Marshal Commander Cody of the 7th Sky Corps, CO of the 212th Attack Battalion, and Second in Command of the Third Systems Army under General Kenobi.”

“You probably think you know all you need to about us. I doubt many of you look at us favourably, these days, if you see any of us at all. You probably think we were loyal soldiers of the Republic, soldiers of the Empire. Some of you might think we were traitors to the Republic cause, who assisted with the Empire’s takeover of the galaxy. Some of you might even think we betrayed the jedi – and I can’t fault you for that.

“But, here’s some things about us you might not know…”  

[prince-of-red-lions]

so hi guys! ive been gone a while. which will. unfortunately continue to happen.

as you all know i've had some cOmPliCaTiOnS recently 😭😭😭 im so sorry! things Have Happened and i won't be on anymore. NOT FOREVER! but a long time. your all so wonderful and i am TEARING UP RIGHT NOW ASHGTUJAG SORRRYASHGU. but i love you all so much i can't even describe it properly. you've all done so much for me and made me feel so loved and appreciated and im literally crying rn so sorry if this post is a mess. sorry if i got your hopes up that i was gonna be back with the last few posts, just wanted to go out with a bang yknow? but please know that i love you all so much and i've been thinking about you guys nonstop ever since i met you. please never change and never forget yourselves or your purpose. im so proud of ALL OF YOU and im so sorry to be leaving. i really am. this has been a great place to be its been REAL. its been FUN. and its been SO ENJOYABLE. i love you all so so so so so so so much. i can't put it into words. its been so nice to have place to dump my art or thoughts and your all there with nice words and funny jokes. im so grateful for you all. i know im rambling and i know this a dumpster fire but oh well. ITS ALL TRUE. IT IS. 💖💖💖💖💖💖 please know i am ALWAYS out there and ALWAYS SUPPORTING YOU GUYS and i hope you guys don't forget me. HASNGJDJSHGEUAOYTE SOBBING 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

this isn't goodbye forever! i will be back one day. i promise you guys that much. this account will continue to stay up, IM NOT DELETEING IT- DW- but i will not be active. i probably won't even be able look at it. i will be back one day i swear it i SWEAR IT. i hope you guys have a lot of patience 😭

i love you all so much and never change. your all so talented and beautiful and awesome and amazing and wonderful and SO COOL AND SWAG AND SLAY. >:D I SEE ALL OF YOUR MESSAGES AND ASKS BTW! SORRY I CAN'T RESPOND TO THEM. :( im sorry i wont be here for ya'll anymore. if you guys ever get off your own tumblr accounts or smth like that, maybe you could leave a message behind so i'd know? 💀 that would be great because i want to make sure you didn't die or smth LMAOOOO. but thanks for everything guys! sorry to be such a downer on christmas. yeah sorry kinda bad timing huh? but

MERRY CHRISTMAS!! AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR TOO! I HOPE 2024 ISN'T TOO BAD FOR YA'LLS :)

[isfjmel-phleg]

Yesterday, July 19, was Tim Drake's birthday and I had intended to make a post about the issue in which this is acknowledged, but I completely forgot after a long week of work-related panic. Sorry! It's a day late, but I'm getting it to you anyway.

Today we're going to be looking at relevant parts of Robin 1993 #116. Although Tim has gone from thirteen to seventeen over the years, to the best of my knowledge only one of his birthdays has been depicted in comics--his sixteenth.

The issue opens with Alfred picking up Tim after a mission that took him out in the middle of the woods (as detailed in earlier issues). Meanwhile, Tim's dad and his stepmother talk. Jack Drake apologizes to Dana for how he's been acting in the aftermath of losing money and having to move and offers to take her out. She pinpoints his recent issues as being related to grief for his first wife, who is inexplicably referred to here as Cathy rather than Janet. This isn't Dana's mistake; earlier issues had Jack use the wrong name too. Writer's error, probably.

They're interrupted by Tim's return. Jack apologizes to him, and Tim plays the dutiful, understanding son and laughs it off.

Dana brings up something that's coming up on Thursday, and neither of the Drakes have a clue what she's talking about. After Tim excuses himself, claiming that he needs sleep after a whitewater rafting outing, Dana tries to clue Jack in. He has completely forgotten that the significant date July 19 is coming up. He's been too wrapped up in his own concerns.

As tired as Tim is, he's worried about Stephanie, who has had recent difficulties with her mom, and he calls her. She assures him that he's fine and asks about Thursday, but he falls asleep mid-conversation.

The sleep situtation doesn't get any better thanks to multiple back-to-back days of late-night patrolling, and on Thursday, July 19, Tim doesn't get up until noon and finds when he awakens that his dad and Dana have ordered pizza, Canadian bacon with onions and artichoke hearts--which only Tim likes.

And then Tim's friend Ives arrives with soda and movies, and Stephanie comes bearing pizza, and Tim is worried that something terrible must be happening if people are going out of their way so much to try to make him happy.

Surprise! It's his birthday, and he has forgotten because he's been so dang busy juggling his two lives (he's in a new school and working with Bruce, not to mention that Young Justice recently disbanded and is about to merge with the Titans).

Tim's feeling magnanimous enough to invite Cole Hartzel, his apartment's antagonistic elevator operator, and then the gift-giving begins. An RPG handbook from Ives, dress shoes from Dana, cellphone and page holster sewn by Steph, a modem from Jack, who regrets that he can't get Tim a car for his sixteenth birthday as he had hoped. Tim accepts every gift graciously and goes out of his way to try to make his dad feel better.

And then there's a mysterious, suspicious box from an unidentified source.

It's worrisome enough to Tim to abruptly make an excuse to get it out of the apartment and take it to a place where Batman can pick it up for analysis. Steph follows him, and they share a kiss on the apartment roof.

Unfortunately, this means that Tim is so mentally distracted during the movie marathon with his friends and family that he can't properly enjoy it, although he tries to keep up the act for their benefit, because he wants everyone else to enjoy his birthday since he can't anymore.

That night, he comes to the Batcave to analyze the mystery package. Bruce warns him that Alfred is upset about something. Turns out that he's annoyed with Bruce for forgetting Tim's birthday. Alfred has made Tim a cake with sixteen candles.

Tim blows them out, Bruce freaks out about smoke getting on the high-tech gadgets, and Alfred continues to snark at him.

And Tim and Bruce share the cake as they analyze the package, which leads them off on their next harrowing adventure.

Everything about how this birthday goes is characteristic. Tim's double life prevents him from fully embracing the joys of his civilian life. He is so immersed in his other role that he loses track of his personal identity's birthday. Both of his father figures forget his birthday too. They mean well, but Jack and Bruce are both so preoccupied with their own concerns, and Tim is there to support them more than the other way around. The ones who do remember Tim's birthday are the people who are more immediately invested in Tim's personal well-being.

And it says a lot about Tim that his immediate conclusion from other people's concern for his happiness is that something must be wrong. He's always the one trying to keep other people happy, and it's awkward for him to be on the receiving end. Even on a day that's supposed to be about him, he's constantly worried about how it's affecting the people around him. So he consoles his dad about not being able to give him a car. He's enthusiastic about gifts that might not be the ones he wants. He hides his worries so everyone else can enjoy his day. He's surrounded by people who love him and want to celebrate him, yet there's always something that holds him a little aloof from this.

This, I think, will be his last birthday with his dad. Or Dana. Or with Steph as his girlfriend. His year ahead is about to be arguably the worst of his life.

[b4tboys]

year’s end thank you post!

when i started this blog i didn’t really think much of it because all i wanted was to write fanfic but i’ve made lots of friends and it’s become a happy place :) thank you guys for 1.5K followers even though i seldom put out fics and i’m bad at interacting but i’m thankful for it all and i wish all of you the very best for the year :))

to my faithful followers: there’s a few of you i recognize that like many of my posts and i know it’s a banger post when y’all reblog and i smile seeing you in my notifs when no one else is thank you for giving me my hits of serotonin

to my moots that i may have missed: i’m so sorry if i did but it doesn’t make me love you any less! i am just bad of keeping track of who’s not active or moved or whatever else but still i wish you the very best and hope we interact more in the new year!

to my mootie patooties:

@mocha-bunbun : mocha darling i love you so very much/p you’ve been an amazing moot and friend and i love the support you give me and i hope the new year treats you well!!!

@tiredsleep : tired! i love you very much and you always helpe bounce around fic ideas and i really do have a satoru fic in the works so hope the new year treats us well and brings our blue eyed babygirl back to us. hugs and love going into the new year for you

@kazemiya: KAZE MY LOVE! you always liked my silly rant posts on my sideblog and i appreciate it! i also love love love interacting with you when you’re active and i hope that we can talk more! i hope all of your tests and studies have gone well and will continue to go well :) lots of love for you and have an amazing year

@verxsyon: VERA!! i think you’re one of my first moots and you’re from my very old blog and we did hq together (which movie in feb??) you’re the driving force behind my star rail love and dan heng series so thank you for being an amazing writer and giving me inspo!!! i love you and hope we have more opportunities to talk :) wishing you a happy new year <3

@2018-01-20: BOO my babygirl and my fellow dan heng simp. you’re so amazing and i eat everything you put out. ik you’re not very active but i sincerely love every time we interact and i just love you <3 hoping for more dan heng screen time and a happy and prosperous year for you!

@m1shapanda: MISHA !!! we became mooties this year and you introduced me to code geass and your art <3 you’re so fun to talk to and i really enjoy seeing you on dash! i wish you no achy joints and lots of inspiration for the new year!

@yuan4i: ài !!! you’re genuinely one of the nicest people i’ve ever interacted with and your smaus never fail to give me a smile :) i’m so glad we’re mooties and i hope you have a superb new year

@kkomaism: even though i am def not caught up with orv you did inspire my sick binge of it. though we don’t interact nearly as much as i’d like and we’re not really in the same fandoms anymore i still do love all the moments we do ! hoping you have all the inspiration to write your fics and have a happy new year :)

@solaaresque: REZE!! i think you’re so amazing and i love love love your writing and though it’s been too long since i’ve logged into enstars they remain near and dear to my heart because of you <3 i just love you lots !! please have the best year babes!

@cottonfluffs: AUNI DEAREST! i still remember the ask you first sent when you introduced yourself and ever since then we have been friends! i really really like talking to you and reading your works and though you’ve moved blogs i’m still enamored by your fics every time. have an amazing year babe and hope to talk to you more!

@sea-of-dandelions: your sigskk blog is my source of bsd content since i don’t really go looking for it and i love seeing you in my notifs when i make posts and it makes me feel like ive made a good offering. happy new year and lots of happiness!

@callilouv: i could not believe the notif i got when you followed me and i still can’t like ur very famous to me. i love love love your art and i await any and all art you’ll put out this upcoming year. please take care of yourself and have a happy new year !

@igumie: mai! ik you haven’t been active in a while so i do hope this reaches you. i love all your fics and quite literally all of your blog! you’re ridiculously amazing and i hope the new year treats you well

@so2uv: my ayato truther! sol i love being your moot and reading all your fics on your writing blog! e2l academic rivals ayato rattles around in my brain a lot. i also forgot you were a twst fan but i am more than happy to send you mal thoughts anytime esp with book 7 in the process of coming out ! i believe in your academic weapon powers and hope you continue to do well in this new year! send lots of hugs your way!

[builtbybrokenbells]

belladonna | iv

Too beautiful to resist, and too deadly to survive; the tragic tale of belladonna in all its glory.

Masterlist | Taglist

Pairing: Danny Wagner x f!reader, f!reader x OC

Word Count: 16k

Warnings: mentions of toxic/abusive parents, mentions of/toxic relationships, mentions of criminal activity/criminal records, poverty, fighting/name calling, crying, arguing, mentions of homelessness, mentions of physical violence, mentions of blood, mentions of AA/NA, NA meetings, heavy descriptions of addictions, use of/mentions of drugs, mentions of relapsing, mentions of OD, mentions of drinking, flirting, mentions of hookups/sex, smoking, depression/anxiety, mental health struggles, fluff, swearing, sorry if I miss any!!

hi lovelies!! so happy to be back with this. i missed belladonna dearly but needed some time away from it to get my head straight. i hope you like this, and please heed the warnings for this chapter! as always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes 🫶🏻

May 9th, 2022 - 3:31 AM

The chime of the bell above the main entrance caused a brief pause in Dylan’s story, the silence hanging heavy over the entire kitchen for a few uncomfortable seconds. You looked across the room, your eyes burning into the girl leaned over the metal countertop. She was focused on a video playing on her phone, completely ignoring the three sets of eyes now settled on her. You took in a long breath, calming your nerves before you spoke, keeping your tone as nice as possible.

“Don’t worry Katie, I’ve got it.” You rolled your eyes, pushing past the two boys standing in your way. Dylan scoffed, just as peeved as you were about Katie’s lack of interest in her job. As your conversation got cut short for the millionth time and you made your way into the dining room, he took the time to send the middle finger to Katie across the kitchen.

You had been running all night to serve customers, and she didn’t seem to care much at all. On top of that, it was exceptionally busy for a Friday graveyard, but you accredited it to the unusually warm and sunny skies during the day. Now that summer was nearing its beginning, the town was bustling with people who were eager to get out of the house after being holed up all winter. Thankfully, that also meant that the Fox’s summer hours for the staff had begun, turning your 6-6’s into 4-4’s. The mornings needed much more staff due to the more demanding crowd, and there wasn’t enough people willing to work the nights. Years ago, John had created the schedule to appease his workers, and now it was second nature.

So far, you were enjoying the opportunity to get off work earlier, usually because Danny had taken to picking you up after your shift and going home with you, or vice versa. Together, you’d sleep away the early morning and wake up side by side. You weren’t sure if it was the fact that you were getting more sun, or if you were just happier because you spent most of your days delicately intertwined with Daniel and his lifestyle. Over the last few days especially, you were beginning to feel like an entirely different person.

Instead of waking up cold and hungry, you were often too warm, which was a problem you’d never known. Your belly was full, but not with an abundance of food. Instead, you were completely full of joy, which was also something you never had much experience with. NA meetings went back to once a month, because the usual horror that followed you was nowhere to be found. Life, including all of your usual struggle, was not gone completely, but it was much easier to digest now that you had someone to hold your hand along the way.

Danny and Sam had become part of your daily routine, but you still failed to make anything official with the boy you cared so much about. He spent so many hours sitting at the diner, slipping you love notes on recycled paper and crumpled receipts, and nearly every night beside you in bed. Most of your days were devoted to creating new memories with him, yet you were frozen with fear at the idea of putting a label on it. Although sex was plentiful, and so were sweet nothings and date-like activities, the two of you carried on as if you were friends. The idea of the end constantly loomed over your head, and the debilitating feeling of uncertainty never fully fled.

You loved your relationship with Danny, and you loved all of the memories you shared. You loved his company, and nearly every single thing about him, but you could not shake the thought that he might leave if you let him get too close. He already knew so much about your life that you intended to keep hidden from him, and you were committed to knowing him for as long as his stay in New York allowed. By sharing the worst parts of you, you risked scaring him away. By letting him get too close, you risked hurting yourself even more than you were preparing for. By making it official, you would ensure that his departure at the end of the summer would be fatal.

So, you opted to stick to your original plans; enjoy him while you could, and let him go when the time was right. It was the only way to ensure that your heart was properly protected.

As for your current shift at the Fox, it was as normal as it could be. Considering the recent tension between you and Vincent, it was actually pretty good. That night, he was quite amicable about his feelings about your current relationship, and even took the extra step to make small talk with you. Perhaps after days of complete silence from you, he realized he actually had the capability of missing you. Of course, you did not dwell on that thought for too long, because you couldn’t allow yourself to feel special, especially on his behalf. After the three day stretch of working together and avoiding each other at all costs, he seemed fed up with the tension constantly lingering in the air. Since the start of your Sunday night shift, he had presented himself as approachable and even friendly at times. Within a few hours, you were joking around with him the same as you did so long ago, before your relationship turned sour.

It made you realize that despite your dislike of his behavior, you still loved him as a person. Laughing with him was nice, and talking to him was something you missed, so long as the conversation was good. When business was slow, you found yourself caught in constant conversation with Dylan and Vincent in the kitchen, sharing cigarettes and stories you had missed out on due to the lull in friendship. As for Katie, she’d gotten to work (late, of course), and she hadn’t served a single table, including the ones in her section. Only part of you was angry, knowing the tips flowing your way would be generous, yet you couldn’t help but grow more irritated at her with every customer. You were tired, and more than that, you wanted to keep talking to your friends, to hear what they had been up to in your absence.

You pushed your way through the swinging half door, giving it more force than originally intended. It ricocheted off the wall, sending an echoing slam through the room. With a smile on your face, you hoped to cover up the moment of anger with a facade, praying that you could convince the customer the slam of the door was a mistake. When you looked upwards at the front door, your fake smile dropped into an expression of relief.

“What, no smile for me?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you as you continued to walk towards him.

“Sorry, I can go back and try again if you’d like?” You offered, now within arms reach of him. He scoffed at the idea, already stepping forward to greet you.

“No, I think that’s okay.” He grinned, wrapping his arms around you as you collapsed into his hold. “Long night?”

“You have no idea.” You muttered, closing your eyes as his cologne surrounded you. If there was one thing Danny was good at, it was making you feel better just by existing. Over the weeks you had spent with him, his arms felt more like home than any building ever had, and the hints of citrus clinging to his skin was more euphoric than any drug you had ever tried.

“I’d kiss you, but I don’t want to start a fight.” He whispered just loud enough for you to hear, already noticing Vincent’s burning stare through the kitchen window.

“Probably a good idea. Things haven’t been too bad with him today.” You nodded, your words muffled from your face pressed to his chest. Then, you realized how utterly ridiculous it was that the two of you were in desperate need of secrecy all in hopes of keeping someone else in good spirits. Vincent was not your boyfriend, and you were not his property. If you wanted to kiss Danny, you were free to do so, and Vincent should not get a say in the matter at all. “Is it bad that I don’t even really care anymore?”

“No, don’t think so.” He shook his head. “But I don’t want the rest of your night to be ruined.”

“But it would make it so good right now.” You were nearly pleading with him. He gave a low chuckle, parting from you just enough to look down at your face. He raised his hand to your cheek, cupping it for a moment as he brushed his thumb over the tired skin. He wanted it just as bad as you did, but he knew better than to put you in such a position.

“If you can survive another,” he paused, looking down at his watch. “Thirty minutes, you can come over and we can do whatever you want.” He offered, subconsciously checking over your shoulder as he continued to worry about pushing boundaries.

Danny was not scared of Vincent, but he knew that if he did as you asked, you would face many more consequences than he would.

It was not an act of cowardice, but rather one of great care.

“Whatever I want?” You raised an eyebrow, smirking at his open-ended offer.

“I’m a man of my word, am I not?”

“So far, yes.” You nodded, grinning softly. “You want something to eat?”

“Not really.” He shook his head, still mindful of the set of eyes burning into him.

“Drink?” You tried again, nodding towards the soda machine behind the front counter.

“Live to please, Utah?” He chuckled, stepping to the side and taking a seat at a booth. While he did so, he did not dare look away from your face, scared to miss a single second of admiring you.

“Only for you.” You shot back, grabbing a bucket of sanitizer and a cloth from the counter to wipe off the tables. You loved when Danny came to visit, mostly because he was excellent company to keep while you puttered about your mind-numbing tasks. That, and he was nice to look at, of course.

“I like the sound of that.” He hummed, watching the sway of your hips as you walked towards the soda dispenser, placing a cup underneath and picking one at random. When the bubbles settled, you grabbed a paper straw between your fingers. Carefully, you walked it over and placed it in front of him. He barely gave the cup a sideways glance, still too busy watching you.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You said, dipping the tip of your finger in the sanitizer water, carefully withdrawing it and flicking the droplet of liquid at him. He barely flinched at the action, grinning up at you as he spoke again.

“You have a guide to middle school insults in your back pocket? Been waiting for a chance to use that one all night, or what?” He teased, watching you as you leaned over the table to swipe away any dirt from the surface. You couldn’t help but notice his eyes trailing down over your collarbones, settling on the exact spot where your shirt pulled away from your chest. Gravity was helping you in keeping his attention, but it wasn’t like you were trying very hard in the first place.

“Yeah, been studying it all day, actually.” You grinned, looking over at him through the corner of your eye. “You want to check what else I have in my back pocket?” You asked, swaying your hips towards him only slightly. It was so miniscule that you weren’t even sure if he noticed it, but you were foolish to think he would miss even the smallest of movements from you.

In the kitchen, Dylan was beside himself with laughter at the sight of your shameless flirting, knowing that in all of his personal efforts, he’d never gotten such a response from you. Vincent, on the other hand, was not as keen on watching.

With a hard-set jaw and a sick stomach, his foot collided with the mop bucket. The filthy water inside sloshed, spilling over the sides onto the grimy tiles of the floor. Dylan looked back over his shoulder, wondering what the commotion was. As his eyes landed on Vincent, green with envy and crimson with rage, a sorrowful grimace crossed his lips.

He did not know because Vincent willingly told him, but it was not hard to piece together the root cause of Vincent’s ill feelings.

“I should go out there and beat his fuckin’—“ Vincent cut himself off, slamming his fist down on the industrial sinks. The sound of the impact lingered in the air, but it did not compare to the sound of Vincent’s breaking heart.

“You should calm the fuck down.” Dylan corrected, placing a firm hand on his shoulder so he could not swing on another inanimate object. Vincent shook him off, the feeling of his touch only furthering his anger.

“Don’t tell me what to do, asshole.” Vincent seethed through his heavy breaths. “That’s my girl out there.”

“She ain’t nobody’s girl, idiot.” Dylan argued further, the scowl decorating his face telling of his own discontent with Vincent’s actions. “She don’t belong to you, or me, or him. She can do whatever the fuck she wants, and you better not get in her way this time, or I swear to god I’ll kill ya’ myself.”

“Fuck does that mean?” Vincent stepped forward, nose to nose with Dylan in the moment of high tension. Both boys were ready to swing on each other, blinded by their own opinions and unable to reach any common ground.

“That means,” Dylan said, towering over the other boy as he used his size to his advantage. “She’s tryin’ to be happy, and you ain’t helping.” Vincent seemed to freeze at the thought, his anger fleeing him momentarily. At the idea of being exactly what you were trying to get away from, his throat seemed to close on itself and his blood ran cold. “I get that ya love her, man. She’s hard not to love, but you ain’t doin’ her any good. She asked you to clean yourself up, cause she can’t run with that stuff anymore. You want her so bad, do it. If not, let her go.”

“She’s asking too much of me, Dyl. This is all I’ve ever known, and she keeps sayin’ she loves me, but how can she love me if she don’t want me as I am?” Vincent spoke, calmer than he was moments before.

“She’s asking for what she needs, Vin. If that’s too much for you, then don’t do it, but you don’t get to stay in the middle, mad ‘cause she won’t bend to your rules. If you don’t want to see her with someone else, try.”

Dylan was speaking the truth, but Vincent had never been keen on listening to anyone other than himself.

“Don’t wait until she’s too far gone. Try, Vincent, but don’t you dare go and try breakin’ those two up, ‘cause I won’t be this fuckin’ nice. Get clean, cause she deserves better than this.” Dylan finished, pushing Vincent away from him as he spoke, silently letting him know the conversation was done.

“Fine,” Vincent grumbled, steadying himself on his feet after the harsh shove. “You’ll do it with me?” At that, Dylan let out a laugh, loud and offensive to Vincent’s genuine intentions.

“Fuck no.”

Dylan had used up every bit of common sense he could find, and unlike Vincent, getting clean had not only never been a priority for him, but a thought that never even crossed his mind.

𓇢𓆸

May 9th, 2022 - 4:17 AM

“Shhh,” you whispered, calming Danny down from a fit of laughter caused by a well-timed joke. As he bit his tongue, he closed the front door of the Airbnb behind him. Sam was asleep, long before Danny even left to go to the Fox, and you wanted to be extra cautious to avoid waking him.

“It’s just Sam,” Danny brushed you off, flipping the lock. “He’ll live.”

“I don’t want to give him any reasons to not like me.” You confessed, keeping your tone hushed as you tiptoed towards Danny’s bedroom.

“Are you kidding, Utah? He loves you.” Danny assured you, nearly tripping over himself to open his door for you. You slipped inside the dark room, knowing it better than the back of your hand now. The air was cool, the open window letting the night air in through the mesh screen. Despite the ventilation, the essence of his cologne still lingered around the room, wrapping you in a hug after a long day of being away.

“Exactly why I don’t want to wake him up.” You explained, turning to face the boy hovering by the door. Despite the lack of light, you could still see the definition of his curls, the outline of his nose, and the sharpness of his jaw.

Even in near total darkness, he was stunning.

“Tell me about your day.” He changed the subject, smiling as the glow of the porch light filtered in through the expensive blinds. It hit your face just right, allowing him to admire the softness of your features.

“It was… normal, I guess.” You said, slipping out of your jeans that were filthy from the twelve hour shift. Even as you did so, his gaze never trailed away from your face. You kicked your legs softly, the button scratching against the true wooden floors as they fell away from your ankles. “Very busy.”

“Tell me more.” He pressed further, breaking his attention away from you only for a moment to pull his shirt over his head. His sweatpants sat low on his hips, deliciously tempting as they framed the outline of his hip bones.

“Katie was late.” You shrugged, taking your own shirt off. He threw you the one he had on seconds earlier, knowing not to let it fall to the ground. As it landed in your hands, you noticed the warmth of his body still desperately clinging to the fabric.

“As usual.” He commented, watching as you unclipped your bra and pulled the shirt over your head. Once you were out of your dirty clothes, you sat down on his bed, noticing the softness of the mattress immediately. You would never say it aloud, but you were almost embarrassed to have him stay at your apartment, knowing the springs sticking out of your beaten up mattress could never rival the coziness of his.

“She didn’t serve a single customer all night.” You continued, crawling to the head of the bed and burrowing under the comforter. “So that sucked, but I got wicked tips.” Once you were comfortable, he joined you in the bed, resting his head on the same pillow you were on.

You felt his hand go in search of your thigh under the blanket. The touch was small, and it was innocent, but it felt like a million dollars. His rough fingertips grazed over your cool skin, sending goosebumps over your entire body. You melted into the feeling of him beside you, nudging closer to him until eventually your cheek was pressed to his bicep. Without hesitation, he turned onto his side and lifted his arm, inviting you even closer. You jumped at the opportunity, rolling into him and resting your head on his chest. When his arm dropped, he guided the rest of your body into him with little force.

Although you wanted to keep yourself convinced that the relationship with him was fun and did not come with any strings attached, you knew you were fooling yourself. His arms felt more like home than anything else, and you’d been searching for such comfort since you learned how to walk.

“Vincent actually talked to me tonight.” You added. He didn’t respond right away, but you could feel his heart speed at the mention of his name.

“Did he?” Danny asked, trying to remain calm and supportive over the idea. Although he was not Vincent’s biggest fan, he knew that you cared for him. His biggest worry was not a lack of loyalty, but rather your well-being entirely.

“Yeah, but it was just like it used to be. Like it was when we were friends.” You wanted to assure him that he had nothing to worry about, but the connotation of friendship between you and Vincent was not a comfort at all.

You may have been happy to be friends, but Vincent always seemed to want more.

“What did you do while I was gone?” You asked, letting your fingers trail down his bare stomach. The tickle sent a shiver down his spine, and as you traced shapes into his skin, he felt his heart begin to beat for you in that moment.

“Not a whole lot, really.” He admitted, letting his hand fall to the curve of your back. His fingertips rested above the seam of your underwear, threatening to go further but never crossing the boundary. “Think we wrote a new song.”

“That’s not a whole lot?” You chuckled, craning your head up to catch a glimpse of his face. He looked down, meeting your gaze with a small smile stuck on his lips. “I think it’s a whole lot. I’d like to hear it, whenever you want to share.”

“I’m sure we could make that happen.” He whispered, his eyes flickering to your lips. Without even realizing it, you were leaning upwards, desperate to remember what it felt like to kiss him. “I’d like to take you on a date tomorrow, if you’re interested?” He offered, feeling the tip of his nose graze yours as you continued to gravitate towards him.

“Oh yeah? What do you have in mind?” You asked, so close to him that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin.

“Surprise?” He raised an eyebrow, hoping you would go along with it.

“How do I know if I want to go if I don’t know what we’re doing?” You challenged, your lips brushing his as you spoke.

“You trust me?” He offered the idea as if it were something that had never crossed your mind before. His hand drifted downward, cupping your ass in his palm. The feeling sent a rush of arousal through you, despite him barely doing anything at all.

That was just how fantastic he was; he barely had to look your way to have you swooning over him.

“That’s a lot to ask of me, you know.” You said, finally pausing in place. If you moved any closer, the conversation would come to an abrupt end. He chuckled, letting his fingers dip below the waistband of your underwear. The warmth of his skin against yours sent your stomach twisting into knots.

“Anything I can do to convince you?” He asked, smiling ever so slightly as he watched your face.

“A couple things, yeah.” You nodded, continuing the act. One thing you loved about being around Danny was that everything was playful and rarely serious. His company came with the notion of fun, never a dull moment and always lighthearted. It was so different from everything else in your life, and that made it hard not to love it.

He leaned forward, capturing you in the kiss he’d promised you at the diner. Your eyes fluttered closed, your heart speeding in your chest as your abdomen filled with butterflies. It didn’t matter how integrated he was in your daily routine, or how comfortable you were with his company. Every time you found yourself in the position, it seemed to shock your system in the most pleasant ways.

When he pulled away, you noticed his grip on you had tightened every so slightly, silently telling you he felt the same way.

“How was that? You convinced yet?” You gave a soft shrug, continuing to tease him about the same things. You rolled away from him, settling into the mattress as you stared at the ceiling. He chuckled at your sudden movements, but didn’t complain about you parting ways.

“Tell me about your song.” You hummed, feeling the deadly grip of exhaustion begin to take hold. Your eyes burned as you listened to the sound of his breathing, waiting for him to divulge into the story of his music.

“I guess… it’s part of a bigger story, you know? Like the whole album is this big metaphor for life and death, and love, and we’re just trying to find missing pieces of the puzzle so the story can tell itself. It’s about war and peace, and nature too. It’s about everything, and every song is so different but still important. We don’t really decide what the songs are about, the album does.” He rambled, seemingly falling into the same position as he stared at the ceiling. It was like the entire picture was playing out on the warm beige paint that decorated the room, growing more intense as the words left his lips.

“You can’t tell me the meaning of one without knowing the rest of them.” You whispered, looking over at him, in awe of his passion for his music. You watched him nod, happy you understood his words. As he did, your mind tunneled elsewhere, your thoughts digging down to the deepest parts of your brain in search of something you did not know you needed an answer for. You blinked a few times, swallowing your thoughts as they swirled around, seemingly aimless. “The story tells itself.” You mumbled, blinking a few times to process the idea again.

“Yeah,” he agreed again, glancing over at you as he noticed your change in tone.

“Exactly!” You exclaimed, keeping your voice hushed as you scrambled to sit up. Danny’s eyebrows furrowed, confused about what you were talking about and even more confused about your sudden burst of energy.

You twisted your upper half around, reaching to the nightstand on the bedside. In the dark, you fumbled around to find the familiar leather binding of your notebook. When your fingers touched the surface of the journal, you hauled it over and dropped it in your lap.

“I’ve been stuck on the same stupid part of this story for days now. I keep thinking I need to come up with the perfect scene, and I keep changing it because it just doesn’t seem right. It’s not right because it doesn’t fit the story. I stopped the flow, I tried to change the whole mood because I thought the scene needed to be more interesting, but it doesn’t. The story needs to tell itself.”

Much similar to your fictional world, that realization would have served you well in every aspect of your life, specifically when it came to the boy laying next to you. You were trying so hard to shove your feelings down, to equate your care for him to a love of fun, but you were standing in the way of a story that was bound to tell itself sooner or later.

He watched you, smiling at your revelations, but you weren’t paying attention to him anymore. You had already flipped open the cover, finding the pen stuck between pages, and tried your best to keep writing in the dim moonlight filtering through the windows. As an act of love, he reached over and flipped the switch for the lamp beside the bed, ensuring that you wouldn’t strain too much trying to write in the dark. As if he never moved at all, you did not even register the shift in the atmosphere, nor the movement beside you in bed. Within seconds, you were immersed in the imaginary world unfolding on the paper before you.

Danny bit his tongue, holding back any more words so he did not break your focus. He laid back on the mattress, turning on his side to face you. Carefully, he inched closer to the end of the bed and slung his arm over your legs just below where your journal sat. His head rested on the pillow beside your elbow, and he leaned his head forward to place a gentle kiss to your forearm.

His eyes floated upwards, focusing on your determined expression. He studied the furrow of your brow and the purse of your lips as your hand scribbled words on the lines of your paper. He thought you were the most beautiful thing in the whole world, and he would be happy to sit in silence and watch you write for the rest of his life. Under the blanket, his thumb drifted across the soft skin on your thigh, a gentle reassurance that he was overjoyed he had given you a breath of inspiration.

He wanted to tell you that he was your biggest fan, but something inside of him felt that you already knew it.

Just like everything else in the world, the story of you and Daniel was beginning to tell itself, and neither of you had the ability to change the tale along the way.

May 9th, 2022 - 11:26 AM

“Where are you taking me, Daniel?” You asked, reiterating your question for the millionth time. He had his GPS programmed to the Bronx, but everything else had been kept secret since the minute you stepped outside that morning.

“I told you, it’s a surprise. Do you not know what that means?” He chuckled, squeezing your thigh gently. His hand had been permanently anchored there since you took post in his passenger seat, and you were keen on keeping it that way.

“I do, but it doesn’t mean I like it.” You huffed, looking out the window as you watched traffic pass you by. You had been driving for a while now, and if you had it your way, you would drive all day long with him. The intimacy of being alone together in his car was something you had been craving, considering most of the time you were in the living room with him and Sam both. It wasn’t a problem to spend time with Sam, but you would be lying if you said you preferred it over alone time with Danny. “You know we don’t have to do anything fancy. I’d be happy to just spend the day with you like this.”

“I know you would, Utah.” He said, nodding along with your sentiments. “Have you considered that maybe I want to do this?” He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “And who said it was fancy? Maybe you’ve got the wrong idea.”

“I wouldn’t have to guess if you’d just tell me!” You exclaimed, rolling your eyes at his stubborn nature. When you couldn’t stand the irritating smile he constantly held any longer, you turned to look out the window, wondering if you could piece together the location just by road signs and familiar directions.

The longer you watched, the more you understood that you would never be able to piece it together, because you rarely left the secure bubble of your poverty stricken suburb. Then, your mind wandered elsewhere as you realized Danny had zero familiarity with the area, even less so than yourself. You turned back to face him, a new thought bugging you as you watched his face.

“Does being so far away from home make you nervous?” You asked, unable to hold back your random curiosity. He glanced over at you from the drivers seat, just finishing sipping at the coffee he’d grabbed when you stopped for breakfast. As he placed it in the cup holder, he gave a small shake of his head.

“No, not really. Guess I’m used to it, now. We’ve been all over the place, playing shows and stuff. It’s fun more than it is scary. I miss home a lot, but I’m not nervous when I’m away.” He replied. You gave a slight nod, processing the information before speaking again.

“I guess… I never really realized how foreign this place was to you. Like, I don’t really come to this part of New York much, but probably still more often than you do.” You explained yourself more, hoping that the words made sense to him. Sometimes, you had an awful habit of struggling to relay thought to speech, and your intent often got jumbled on the journey between the two.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He nodded, clicking on his signal light as he pulled into a cutoff lane. “It is all new, but it’s nice, you know? Only thing I don’t like is having to rely on a map or a GPS all of the time. I get lost all of the time, even on the way from my place to yours sometimes.” He chuckled, the thought striking him as funny.

“Really?” You asked, amazed at the comment. To you, it was second nature to navigate the backroads of your tiny little world, and you never would have guessed that someone would find it difficult to catch on to.

“Yeah,” he nodded, smiling over at you. “I would never be able to find my way to the park we went to on our first date without help.”

“What!?” You exclaimed, laughter mixed in with the shocked question. “Okay, hold on.” You said, reaching down to your bag by your feet, pulling it into your lap as he watched you with curiosity. You pulled your journal out, grabbing at one of the loose pieces of white paper held inside. Then, you grabbed a pen and a highlighter from the very bottom of the bag. You tossed the canvas material of the dollar store tote back on the floor, settling the journal on your lap and the paper atop of it.

“What are you doing?” He laughed, glancing between you and the road as he tried to figure out your next move.

“You’ll see.” You responded, tucking a loose lock of hair behind your ear as you closed your eyes, trying your best to recall the layout of your suburbs from memory. After a moment, you opened your eyes, carefully drawing a few long lines on the paper.

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, focusing intently as you mapped out the land as best you could. Eventually, when you were happy with the makeshift roads with the black pen ink, you used the highlighter to draw yellow stars at the most important places. There was a slight shake in your hand, the lines bumpy and messy every time the car made an unexpected move, but you did the best you could with what you had. Once you drew the stars in, you labelled each one, looking it over once before a triumphant smile crossed your lips. You flashed the paper in his direction, knowing he couldn’t focus on it too intently while he drove, but okay with explaining it to him.

“Here’s a map. It’s not a very good map, but it’s a map, nonetheless.” You giggled, throwing the pen and marker back in your bag. He looked up at your gleeful expression, finding his heart swell with affection as he listened to your words. “This is you and Sam,” you pointed to the yellow star in the very top corner of the page. “And if you go down your road and turn onto the highway,” you continued, tracing the long black line with your finger “you get to the Fox.”

“Okay.” He nodded, following along with your words as he remained mindful of the road.

“If you turn up this first street after you pass the Fox, you can go back to the old abandoned school. I haven’t shown you that yet, cause there isn’t much to see.” You explained, tracing your finger carefully so he clearly understood you. “That’s the road before the cutoff to mine.”

“Oh, okay.” He said, genuinely intrigued at your explanation. “If you keep traveling up the highway, you get to the cutoff for my road—it’s the Main Street between both suburbs, so it gets the fancy turnoff from every side.” At that, he laughed. “If you follow the road, you’ll pass the Pony, and then here’s my complex.” You pointed to each respective star. “If you turn up the street between me and the pony, you’ll find the old church they turned into an NA hall.” You failed to explain why you knew the directions to that specific building, but you thought you ought to include it anyway, considering there wasn’t much else to add. “If you keep going past my place, there’s another road, and that’s where the gas station you picked me up from that day.” You said, showing him the next star.

“Huh,” he hummed, a smile growing on his lips as he listened to you talk. As of late, listening to you had become his favourite pastime. “Past that on my road, it’ll lead to a dead end if you’re going straight. If you turn down, in the direction the Fox would be, you can get to those fancy stores we passed, and the antique shop. If you keep going, you get to the park!”

“You are quite the woman, Utah.” He laughed, finding the glee in your face make his heart beat a little faster. “Thank you for drawing that.”

“Hopefully it helps.” You smiled, sticking it in the sun visor above your head.

“You know, if I hadn’t been there before, I wouldn’t understand a word you said, or any part of that map.” He laughed, reaching over and placing a loving hand on your thigh to lessen the blow of his harsh words.

“Hey! I thought it was pretty damn good!” You defended, your eyebrows furrowing together in frustration. Your response only made him laugh harder, and eventually, you couldn’t help but join in. The sound of his happiness was infectious, and you felt like being miserable around him was a waste of time.

“You are an excellent writer,” he began again, slowing as you pulled up to a red light. “But for the love of god, please don’t get into cartography.”

“Says the guy who doesn’t even know where he’s going.” You rolled your eyes. “Maybe if I had a little more time, it would have been more helpful, but your directionless blundering around town makes me nervous.”

“Nervous, eh? Like you care about me or something?” He raised an eyebrow, his fingers tightening on your thigh ever so slightly.

“Don’t give yourself too much credit.” You teased, but he knew it was a joke. You were both comfortable with the fact you cared about each other, and even more so with expressing it. Although, the real reason you drew him the map partially was because you didn’t want him getting lost, and more so because you wanted him to memorize where you lived. Selfish, maybe, but you were completely shameless about it.

It wasn’t much longer before Danny pulled off into a crowded lot. You straightened in your seat, filled with excitement at the sight of lush green trees and flowers lining the white building. The architecture of the building was breathtaking, the entrance surrounded by large panel windows and the upper half made nearly completely of glass. He pulled into a parking spot, glancing over at you with a smile on his face.

“Danny,” you breathed, taking in the sight with wonder in your eyes.

“You mentioned it a few weeks ago… said you’d never been. I thought it would be nice if we saw it for the first time… together.” He articulated his words carefully, wondering if maybe it was too much and you were off put by the thought.

“I can’t believe you remembered.” You said, reaching over and placing a gentle hand on his bicep. “Nobody’s ever… remembered, like you do.” You stressed the point, understanding that after 23 years, he was the first person to care enough to listen while you spoke. “You’re the sweetest.” He gave your thigh a gentle squeeze, saddened at the sound of your words but touched by your sentiments.

“Good thing I like remembering, and I like you.” He grinned. “Maybe you can write me a poem about it when we get home.”

Home.

Unspecified as to where, but without a doubt including you. He found as much comfort in your company as you did in his, and he was unashamed to admit it.

“I’ll write you all the poems you want, Michigan.” You promised, feeling your heart beat just a little faster as you held his gaze. Little did he know, you’d already been doing that; every stanza seemed to pertain to his heart, and every single word was inspired by his beautiful face. You would write about him until there were no more words left to say, and then you would create your own just to tell the world how much he meant to you.

“That’s a big promise, Utah.” He warned, trying to keep his thoughts in check as your hand lingered on his arm. “If it were up to me, I’d never stop reading your poems.”

“Shut up.” You squeaked, your cheeks burning red as you gave him a slight push. He fell back into the door, a laugh stuck in his throat as he dusted his thumb over your leg.

“Never.” He promised, turning the car off and making sure he had all of his things. “Now let’s go, we have a botanical garden to see.” At that, he jumped out and rushed over to your side of the car, opening the door for you before you had a chance to do it yourself.

With a playful eye roll, you grabbed your bag from the floor and checked inside to make sure you had everything. You had nearly everything, not realizing what you were missing until your fingers landed on the bag of sour candies you always kept close by, noticing it was far too light. Your stomach dropped as you looked inside, realizing it was empty. You rummaged around the bottom of your tote, checking to see if they’d fallen out or if you had eaten them all and forgot to replace them.

“What’s wrong, Utah?” He asked, noticing your panic.

“Nothing.” You assured him, rushing the word out as you tried to cover your momentary panic. They were gone, and you were stupid enough to forget about buying more when you ran out.

“Utah.” He spoke, using a tone of voice that told you he knew better than that.

“It’s just… I’m okay, I just ran out of sour candy.” You said through your teeth, knowing it didn’t seem like a big deal to him, even if it felt like the end of the world to you. “I know, it’s stupid. I’ll be okay.” You breathed, realizing you couldn’t tell him why it was such a problem.

You could make it through a few hours without a fallback, a few amazing and fun hours with your favorite person. You checked not because you needed one, but because you never went anywhere without them. You had been having so many good days that you hadn’t reached for one in a while, and you could keep up the good work for a little while longer.

Issue was, now that you knew you didn’t have a quick distraction if a thought plagued you, it was all you could think about. You weren’t amidst a craving, and you likely never would have been if you didn’t notice that the candy was gone. Now that you did, it was the only thing running through your head.

“Oh,” he laughed, like you had told him a joke. You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of annoyance, your lungs burning and your stomach sick while he laughed it off.

You couldn’t be mad at him. He didn’t know.

“Here, baby.” He said, reaching over you and popping open the center console. You looked at him, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, turning your head to watch as he pulled something from it. At the sight of the familiar green and yellow bag, your entire body relaxed, but instead of just a sense of relief, you felt a wave of adoration join it. “I keep one in here, just for you. I know you always eat them, and I saw them at the store, so I grabbed one. Guess it came in handy after all.” You turned back to face him, your eyes soft and your heart filled with love for him.

Wait—love?

No, that couldn’t be right.

You pushed the thought as far down as you could, swallowing the lump in your throat as you reached for his face. Your palms landed on his cheeks, and you were leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his lips before either of you could register it. He dropped the bag in your lap as he grabbed your hip, an automatic response to the feeling of your mouth on his.

He had no idea, and that almost made it worse. He had no idea what you needed them for, and he likely thought it was a childish fixation that you could live without, but he didn’t care. Even if he thought that, he still went out of his way to keep them in his car to make you happy.

“You are extraordinary, Michigan.” You whispered, slightly breathless from the kiss, suffocating from the feelings you had for him. “Thank you. You saved the day.” He seemed to do that a lot, but you tried your best not to focus on it.

You wanted to save yourself, but god did it feel good when he did half the work for you.

“I’ll always save the day for you.” You couldn’t help but feel the twinge of pain in your chest, the one that was felt every time he said something like that. It wasn’t because his sweet words weren’t welcomed, but rather that you knew it wasn’t true. Daniel would not always be around, and the relationship between you would cease to exist when he packed up his Airbnb and left for Nashville. You spoke to each other as if the end wasn’t near, like it wasn’t a possibility at all for the two of you to go your separate ways, but you both knew you were lying to yourselves. “Now come on, let’s go see the flowers.”

“Right.” You grinned, shoving the bag of candy in your purse and hopping out with him.

He shut the door behind you, slipping his hand in yours as you walked together. You approached the entrance to the building, where he held the door for you. As you stepped inside, you were overwhelmed with excitement. You had lived in New York for over a year, and you’d never had the chance to visit the main attractions much. You lined up to pay your entry fee, and your eyes fell upon the screen flashing with prices.

Your stomach dropped, the final piece to the puzzle only clicking in for you when you saw the dollar signs. Hastily, you reached for your bag, dropping your hand from Danny’s to grab your wallet. He noticed your sudden withdrawal, his gaze turning to you as he watched you open the clip and search for dollar bills that weren’t there.

“Hey,” he whispered, his hand landing on your lower back to snap you out of the fit of panic. Your eyes met his, your nervousness written all over you as he studied your expression. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Daniel, I can’t let you—“

“I want to.” He corrected, his tone firm and his eyes genuine. “It was my idea to come, so I’ll pay.”

“Baby, you don’t have to do that.” You argued, feeling guilty that your own impoverished lifestyle was affecting him.

“I know I don’t have to.” He said, raising a hand to your face to brush the stray hairs from your eyes. “I’d be a pretty terrible date if I didn’t pay for it.”

“That’s not true—“

“Hey,” he cut you off, showing you he was serious. “Don’t worry about it.” He reiterated his earlier statement. “All you need to worry about is having fun.”

“You’re too good to me.” You hummed, dropping your wallet back into your bag. Such generosity was something you’d never experienced before, but you were slowly getting used to it with his help.

“I love being good to you. You deserve it.” You tried not to focus on his words, finding it so different from the way Vincent normally spoke to you. You didn’t want to make it mean anything more than it did at face value, but it was hard not to latch onto the sentiment behind it.

After he paid for the two of you, he grabbed a map so he could navigate the large area. Hand in hand, the two of you began the journey, walking slowly to soak in the sights around you. The first thing you noticed was the looming cherry blossoms decorating the doorway as you stepped back out into the yard. The light pink hue caught your eye, entrancing you as you walked underneath it. The sweet smell of the petals struck you with force, causing your eyes to flutter closed in bliss. Daniel seemed to be just as immersed in the moment, appreciating the beauty of you amidst such things, rather than the trees themselves.

The sight of the conservatory dome behind the breathtaking landscape was otherworldly, the view ethereal as you tried your best to commit the memory in your mind forever.

“Danny, this is… stunning. I’ve never seen anything like it.” The fresh air around you seemed to pull you into a warm embrace, the greens of the leaves and the pristine shape of the cobblestone walkways below your feet all making you feel undeserving of the gift he had given you.

“It is, huh?” He said, in just as much disbelief as he turned to look at the tree branches billowing behind him. You hugged your bag tighter to your body, the rough fabric of the tote scratching against your exposed side. Choosing to wear Danny’s muscle shirt seemed like the right idea at the moment, but paired with your torn jeans and worn out converse, you now felt completely underdressed. “Where do you want to go first, Utah?” He asked, flicking open the map so you could take your pick. You inched closer to him, leaning forward to get a better look before you decided.

“I want to see the perennial garden… oh, daffodil hill! And the lilac collection! The Rockefeller Rose Garden sounds beautiful, too.” You gushed, unable to contain your excitement. He smiled softly, wrapping his arm around you as he placed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Let’s do it all, then. We have all day.”

“Really?” You looked up at him, your eyes sparkling as you admired his face.

“Really, Utah.” He promised, giving your arm a gentle squeeze. “But I want to see the meadow and water feature with the native plant garden, and I have to see the tropical pool.” He bargained.

“Deal,” you nodded, knowing you would do anything so long as it meant you could spend time with him. “We better get started.”

Hand in hand, you made your way to the first stop, following the map closely as you walked. He raised the sheet closer to his face, following the path with his eyes as you faced a fork in the road.

“You know, Utah, you could really take some tips from this map. I can actually read it.” He quipped, lowering it as he flashed you a grin. You rolled your eyes, knocking shoulders with him and watching him falter slightly.

“You love my map—don’t pretend to hate it.” He chuckled, knowing that he did love it, but only because it was made by your hand. To him, anything you created was worth loving.

“I do, even if it only confuses me more.”

“Whatever, Michigan.” You scoffed, pulling him in the direction of the tropical pool. He shut up quickly once he realized where you were headed, following along silently as his eyes scanned over the greenery sprouting from the small pond lining the walkway.

“Holy shit.” He breathed, taking in the sight of the lily pads floating on the surface. “Those lily pads are huge!” He exclaimed, clutching the map in his palm as he pointed towards the ones he was referring to. You giggled at his childlike expression, finding it incredibly endearing as you approached the water.

“Do you ever wonder if in another life, we’re two frogs living on lily pads like that?” You asked, posing the ridiculous rhetorical question without thinking twice.

“For sure.” He hummed, gazing out at the still water with greenery sprouting from the surface. “We would have the cutest lily pad ever.” He corrected, making your cheeks turn crimson.

“All the other frogs would be so jealous of us.” You added, noting the reflection of the dome in the water.

“Yeah, cause I’d have the prettiest frog girlfriend.” He said as a matter-of-fact, neither of you paying any mind to the title he graciously placed upon you, even if the intent was in a joking manner. You were too high on life to even consider bursting the bubble, so you enjoyed it for a moment, letting yourself feel the fleeting moment of joy that came with being his.

After a few moments of wandering around, you moved onto the next sight on the list, navigating your way to daffodil hill. As you approached the plot of land, the breath was stolen from your lungs. Thousands of yellow and white flowers lined the ground, busy bees floating around the brightly coloured petals to scavenge the pollen from them. Scattered around, there were a few large trees with pink blossoms lining the branches. The sight was breathtaking, much like everything else you had experienced thus far.

“Danny,” you whispered, looking over your shoulder at him as you guided him through. “This is beautiful.”

“I know.” He nodded, but he wasn’t looking at the plethora of flowers tickling the grass. “Wait, I want a picture.” He said, pulling his phone from his pocket and motioning for you to pose. You stood before the field of flowers, the brightest smile stuck on your lips as you raised your arms above your head. He laughed at your expression, barely able to understand the flurry of emotion taking over his mind as he snapped the photograph. Before he joined you by your side, he set the picture as his screensaver, knowing it was the most precious thing his phone camera ever witnessed.

The lilac collection was just as stunning as the daffodils, which was almost unbelievable to you. You couldn’t believe how much beauty the world held, especially after spending all of your time in the shittiest neighborhood around. It was so easy to think that all of the world was gray and miserable, that the thick cloud of misery that surrounded you at home would follow you no matter where you went, but the longer you walked through the garden with him by your side, the harder it was to believe it.

You looped through the large patch of forest in the middle of the garden, taking your time to meander through the thickets and enjoy the feeling of being surrounded by nature. Living in New York was good, but it made you miss the connection you once had to the mountains and river-eroded canyons. The city was great, but it wasn’t what you hoped it to be, and being stuck in such a beautiful place made you realize that the concrete jungle was not what you wanted after all.

It was hard to place the feeling of need, because it was pulling you in all different directions. It wasn’t tied to a single place or thing, but it all revolved around the same theme; you craved feeling free, to be limitless and without bounds. You came to New York in hopes of finding that, but theathered yourself with another, tighter chain to a life equally as miserable as the last. Until Danny walked into your life, you convinced yourself that you were happy with struggle and that you still had your life in the palm of your hands. Now that he was beside you, showing you a more beautiful, brighter side of things, you wondered if life really had to go back to the way it was before you met him, or if you could continue feeling this way when he decided to leave.

Maybe the feeling of being free had nothing to do with the sights you were seeing, and everything to do with the person you were sharing them with.

You wanted to believe that you weren’t attached to Danny, but as you walked through the forest with your fingers intertwined with his, it was hard to picture life without him by your side. It wasn’t a dependency, not an addiction like you were so used to feeling, but rather a desire and a willingness to be loved. It was a gift, getting to spend your days with him, and it gave you a break from the horrible things you’d grown so used to. It was teaching you that you were capable of being loved, rather than forced to dish it out and never have it be reciprocated.

It made you excited to see tomorrow, rather than staying stagnant in the past while you waited for the next bad thing to happen.

You knew you couldn’t hold on to him, that you had to utilize all he was teaching you and find it in other places, but it was hard. Before him, you didn’t believe good things could happen to you, and the idea of trying to find them without being able to share it with him killed you, but the end of summer would come, and you would be left facing that exact issue whether you wanted to or not.

You had to grieve him before he was gone, and it was incredibly difficult when all you wanted to do was open your heart and your soul to him.

You had to convince yourself his love was meant to fade, that he was a beacon of light only meant to touch your life so you could pick yourself up off the ground. You needed to understand that the two of you weren’t meant for forever, but you could love each other enough to make the few months you had together last a lifetime. It was the only way to survive his absence when it inevitably came, but it was devastating to imagine, especially when he was right beside you and loving you like nobody ever had before.

You made your way through the perennial garden, taking your time to admire the beauty of it all. The greenery was a nice change from the abundance of flowers you’d seen moments before. The shrubs and trees were all different coloured, some burnt oranges and some deep emerald green. There were patches of purples and jades, all forming together to create one picturesque scene.

The rose garden nearly brought you to your knees, the rainbow of colors lining different bushes and the scent of the floral garden invading your senses. You approached a bush of ruby red roses, letting your fingers ever so gently glide over the satin petals.

“I’ve never seen anything like this.” You said, reiterating the same sentiment as earlier. You were trying to wrap your mind around the whole thing, floored that he cared about you enough to grant you such a special memory. “Roses are my favorite, I think. Kind of a cop out answer, but it’s true.”

“Your favorite, huh?” Danny hummed, admiring you as you admired the sight before you. “I’ll have to remember that.” Your stomach filled with butterflies at his words, your head snapping upwards and your gaze catching his own.

“You don’t…” you trailed off, shaking your head slightly. You didn’t want him to feel like he had to get you flowers, because it simply wasn’t true. You lived twenty three years without ever receiving them, and you would survive another twenty three without them. You feared if he did, you would never be able to let him go.

“But I will.” He assured you, not willing to take any arguments on the matter. “What color is your favorite?” He asked, stepping closer to you as he placed a hand on your hip. Your eyes scanned the bushes, finding it difficult to choose when all of them were so stunning. That, and it was difficult to think of anything with his touch burning into your skin.

“The pink ones, I think. The really light ones.”

“Mhm?” He hummed, but his eyes weren’t looking at the flowers. They were settled on you, watching you as you came to a decision.

“Yeah, definitely those.” You breathed, turning your head to look at him. Your nose brushed his, and your arms automatically wrapped around his neck.

“Good to know.” He smiled, slipping his arm around your waist as he leaned toward and pressed a lingering kiss to your lips. He dipped you backwards ever so slightly, and you pulled him forwards so you didn’t lose contact with him.

When he pulled away your head was spinning and your lungs were burning for air. You needed him more than you ever thought was humanly possible, and you never wanted him to stop holding you like he was in that moment. The chirp of birds overhead made the scene all the more ethereal, and you started to wonder if you were still sleeping, caught up in the perfection of a dream.

“One last stop, Utah. You ready?”

“Yeah.” You whispered, nodding ever so slightly. His face was still close to your own, the taste of his lips on your skin and tempting you further. You leaned toward him again, unable to resist the urge as you pressed a softer, more delicate kiss to his lips. “Let’s go.” You smiled, not straying too far as you turned around and led the way to the meadow.

The last sight was just as awe inspiring as the last ones, and when you reached the end of the path, you felt a sinking disappointment fill your heart. You wished you could stay there with him forever, frolicking amongst the flowers and covered under the shade of the trees. As if he was feeling the same way, he slowed his pace to draw out the last few minutes you had there together.

“Don’t wanna go home.” You mumbled under your breath, taking steps in time with his own.

“We can come back.” He assured you, giving your hand a slight squeeze as you neared the building you entered through. “We can go wherever you want, Utah.”

“Is that a promise?” You smiled, focused only on him despite the swarming crowd of people around you.

“It’s a fact.” He corrected, placing a kiss on your forehead. “Whatever you want, Y/N. Wherever you want. You just have to say the word.”

There was one word in mind, but you thought it was a bit too heavy to inflict upon him so early, especially knowing how the two of you would end.

“How about dinner?”

“Sounds good to me.” He grinned, but you couldn’t help but notice a slight disappointment in his eye.

You didn’t want to think too much about it, but you wondered if it was the same disappointment you had bargained with so many times before, disappointed because he couldn’t truly have the one thing he so desperately wanted.

May 13th, 2022 - 1:17 AM

“Hey, beautiful.” Danny smiled, sliding into a booth and greeting you as you walked towards him. Sam was close behind him, taking post across the table from his counterpart.

“Fancy meetin’ you here.” You grinned, motioning for him to scoot over so that you could sit beside him. When your ass touched the bench, he snaked an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his side. “Grabbing something to eat tonight, or just here to bother me?”

“We’re actually here to eat for once.” Sam replied, a tone of surprise even in his voice. “Little late night snack while we pound out some more songs.”

“I see.” You hummed, a smile still lingering on your lips. “Well, if that’s the case, what could I get for the musical prodigies to help them out?”

“Veggie burger.” Sam replied, earning a kick from Daniel under the table. “Please, Utah. Would be greatly appreciated.” He added quickly, wincing at the lingering pain in his shin. You swallowed back a giggle, finding Danny’s protective nature endearing.

“What about you, sweetness?” You asked, turning to the boy beside you. He was in a long sleeve shirt, his jeans worn and form fitting. His hair was falling gently over his shoulders, and you noticed the tiredness in his face.

“Whatever you think, baby.” He said, casting a lingering glance your way. You wanted to reach out and touch him, to swipe your thumb over his cheek until the gentle tickle lulled him to sleep, and you wanted to hold him until he woke on his own, well rested and ready for the day. Instead, you gave him a soft smile, telling him you sympathized with his exhaustion because you were feeling it too, knowing loving him so openly with Vincent in the next room would end in a disaster.

“Okay.” You whispered, giving his knee a gentle squeeze under the table as you made a move to stand.

“Wait.” He said, placing a hand on your thigh to stop you from moving any further. He checked over your shoulder, looking to see if anyone was watching, and when he noticed the coast was clear, he placed a quick peck on your lips. Your stomach twisted with butterflies, your face turning red and your heart speeding.

Damn him and his ability to turn your whole world upside down.

“I’ll be right back.” You promised, sliding from the booth and quickly scurrying away to the kitchen. You pushed through the swinging half door, finding Dylan and Vincent standing by the open door in the back, the smell of cigarette smoke with a skunky undertone flowing in. “Hey,” you caught their attention, your voice timid as you feared Vincent’s volatility. He hadn’t been as bad as of recent, but you could tell there was tension constantly lingering between the two of you.

Vincent looked back over his shoulder, his eyes softening for a brief second at the sight of you, then reverting back to a stony expression. Dylan slowly turned, his eyes landing on you as a goofy smile crossed his lips.

“Want a hit?” He asked, raising his hand to flash the spliff in your direction.

“Yes,” You giggled, stepping towards the two. “But there’s an order, too.” You grabbed the expertly rolled joint from his hand, letting him know that play was over and work was beginning.

“What is it?” He traded places with you, stepping back towards the smoky grill.

“Regular and a veggie platter, please.” You smiled.

“Anything for you, doll.” He said, spraying the top of the stone with the heavily diluted cleaning solution and scraping off any debris. He let the steam flow as he stepped into the freezer in search of the premade burger patties, leaving you and Vincent by yourselves for a moment.

There was an awkwardness between you that you’d never quite felt before, like being so close to him was wrong, like he was upset just by your presence. You didn’t know what to say, instead raising the joint to your lips and inhaling, hoping he would start off the conversation.

“Your boyfriend here with his boyfriend?” He asked, staring out at the blackened sky as he awaited a response. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, exhaling a large cloud of smoke into the night. You rested your head on the doorframe, wondering how you got yourself in such a situation.

“No boyfriends to talk about.” You replied, answering both of his quips with little effort. At that, his eyes flickered to you, almost hopeful as he listened to the words.

“What, you givin’ him the same run around you gave me?” He muttered, reaching for the joint clasped between your fingers.

“Can you cut the shit, Vin?” You scoffed, reluctantly handing it to him. You expected him to explode, to storm away at the thought of being called out for his ridiculous behavior, but he did neither; instead, he leaned back against the door, watching you carefully as he waited for you to continue.

‘Wow, okay.’ You thought to yourself, shocked at his lack of fight.

“I just want… I want you to talk to me, actually have a conversation instead of backhanded comments and insults, please.” He considered your comment carefully, and after an extended bout of silence, he nodded in agreement.

“You’re right.” What? “I’m sorry, doll.” Who the fuck was standing beside you, and what the hell did they do with Vincent? “If you wanna talk, talk.” You waited, stunned at his response and half expecting Dylan to jump out with a camera like they were playing a joke on you.

“I didn’t give you a run-around.” You muttered, snagging the spliff from his hand when he wasn’t paying attention. You gave him a small smile, one that was surprisingly returned. “I gave you a choice, and you didn’t pick me, Vin.”

“You didn’t give me enough time.” He stressed the point, wanting you to see it from his perspective. Unfortunately, you had given him more time than he deserved, even if he didn’t feel the same way.

“I gave you lots of time, honey.” You whispered. “Eighteen months, to be exact.” He was silent, nodding along as you spoke. You could see his cheeks turn red, but he didn’t react with anger. Instead, he looked up at you with sad eyes, swallowing back the million things he wanted to say.

“It’s just hard, you know? I’m so used to waking up next to you, to having you around all the time, and now you don’t even come to the Pony with us after work. Went from all to nothin’ in a day, it seems, and it hurts. I want to be better for you, doll. I’m trying real hard, but you have to cut me some slack, give me some time to show you how good I can be for you. You can’t see it if you’re spending all your time with Mr. Country Club.” He said, keeping a steady head and a calm voice as he spoke. He was terrified you would be willing to see it once he did clean himself, because you would be long past in love with someone else. Your stomach twisted with uncertainty, fearful you had judged Vincent too harshly. He was standing before you, completely calm as he explained how he felt.

He was trying, but it would never be enough.

“I can’t be around ‘till you’re better, Vin. It’s too hard for me. I’m not sober enough to be around all of it, and I’m sorry if it came off worse than I intended it to.” You were being nicer than you needed to be in hopes of sparing his feelings, even if you knew you shouldn’t. You were giving him hope for something that would never happen, but you were afraid if you told the truth, he would fly off the handle.

He gave a bleak nod, watching as you took a few puffs from the joint before stealing it back. “So what? Are you two together, or just fuckin’?” He asked, unable to bite his tongue and desperate for an answer.

“Not together, no.” You shook your head, giving him that much truth at least. “He’s only here for the summer. He’ll leave and I’ll still be here, so no point in being together.”

“So just fuckin’ then?” He asked, a smirk on his lips despite the pain in his eyes. You rolled your eyes, giving him a gentle shove. For the briefest moment, things felt okay again, like you two were actually friends and not a mess of high emotion and sexual tension that acted like friends.

“Don’t break your own heart, Vin.” You gave a sad smile, telling him to drop it. He flicked the cherry from the roach and pulled out his tin cigarette case, placing the small bit of weed left inside.

“I don’t have to; you do that for me, sweetness.” He said, placing a lingering touch on your arm as he turned and walked back into the kitchen.

You didn’t understand the wave of sadness washing over you, knowing that you truly didn’t want to be with Vincent, but heartbroken for the mess of a man who stood before you, trying more than he ever had. You tried not to let the sympathy change your opinion, but even so, you felt your heartstrings tug in a direction you didn’t appreciate. Instead of lingering on it, you rushed back to the front of the diner to join Daniel and Sam, begging yourself to understand the implications of letting Vincent wiggle his way into your heart.

𓇢𓆸

May 13th, 2022 - 3:42 AM

“Alright, boys. The front is clean, the floors are mopped, and the tips are counted.” You said, keeping an eye on the front door to watch for the morning staff.

“How much did we make, dollface?” Dylan asked, leaning on the serving window separating the kitchen and the front of the diner. You filled your reusable coffee cup from earlier in the day with a little bit of orange soda, sipping away at it as you passed Dylan’s money to him. “Gross.” He turned up his nose at the bright, artificial orange drink you were enjoying.

“S’good.” You shrugged, knowing anything was good when it was free.

“So, how much is it?” Dylan asked, looking at the bills and coins sat before him.

“Count it.” You said, untying your apron and slipping it over your head.

“You know I’m no good at that stuff.” Dylan laughed, the second joint taking its toll on him the more tired he became. His eyes were red, the lids drooping as he tried his best to focus on your face.

“How are you going to get better if you never try?” You urged, knowing he definitely could count it, but he was much too lazy.

“You got me, sweetheart.” He sighed, shrugging his shoulders.

“91.20.” You gave in, giggling as he let out a breath of relief.

“Each?” He raised an eyebrow, surprised that so many people had left a tip. “Must be ‘cause of your little boy-toy and his friend.” You cringed at the sound of his words, shaking your head slightly as he began to regret the nickname he used.

“Never say that again.”

“Yup, never again.” He agreed, sliding the bills from the ledge and into the pocket of his jeans. “You know, I really gotta get a wallet.” He pondered aloud, hearing the change clatter against his leg as he pushed himself upright.

“Would probably make your life easier, yeah.” You smiled, letting your eyes trail over his tired face. Dylan was undoubtedly one of the most attractive boys you’d ever laid eyes on, but the temptation was never really there for you. Perhaps it was because you were tied up with Vincent, or maybe because he made a better friend than you thought he would a lover. No matter, you couldn’t help but admire him every now again, human urge taking over and common sense fleeing you.

“Just seems stupid,” he explained further, the deep tone of his slow voice echoing through the air. You raised an eyebrow at him, begging him to continue. “Paying money for something to hold your money. What a waste.” At that, a powerful laugh shook your shoulders and made the muscles of your stomach ache. It took you a few seconds to calm yourself, the tiredness taking its toll and causing everything to seem funnier than it truly was.

“I love you, Dyl.” You said, letting out a long breath as you wiped a tear from your eye.

“Love you too, baby.” He grinned, proud of the laugh he had pried from you without even trying. At that, the swinging side door opened and Vincent came barreling out from the kitchen, catching both of you off guard as he walked towards you.

“You okay, honey?” You asked, noticing his irate expression.

“Yeah, fan-fuckin’-tastic.” He grumbled, grabbing a disposable coffee cup and filling it with sprite from the fountain. You noticed a slight tremble in his hand as he reached to press the button, twisting your stomach with anxiety.

“You sure? You’re sweating.” You stepped towards him, never able to rid yourself of the compassion you held for him. You raised a hand to his forehead, wondering if he was coming down with a bug. At the feeling of your hand on his skin, he jerked his head away, shooting you daggers with his eyes as he pulled the cup from the soda machine.

“Said I’m fine.” He snapped, the vein in his forehead popping out as he spoke. You shied away, recoiling back at the harsh words.

“Right, okay.” You whispered, cowering under his stare, wondering what happened in the two hours between this conversation and the last. “Sorry, Vin.”

“These mine?” He completely disregarded your timid tone, failing to apologize or acknowledge his own wrongdoings as he pointed at the pile of tips on the counter.

“Yeah.” You nodded, feeling your skin begin to tingle with numbness, the same feeling you always got when he turned volatile towards you. You watched as he reached forward, his trembling hands separating the bills on the counter so he could tally it in his head. You swallowed hard, knowing you should leave it be, but unable to ignore your concerns about him.

Your eyes flickered to Dylan, who was disengaged with the situation, knowing just as well as you how insufferable Vincent was when he was angry. You turned back to Vincent, watching as he counted the change, muttering curses under his breath as he lost count. Your eyes trailed upwards, wanting to catch sight of his face to see if you could decipher what kind of anger he was stuck in, but your eyes got caught on something before you could.

You froze, your skin prickling with a plethora of different emotions as your gaze settled on the point in which his forearm met his bicep. More specifically, a cluster of red dots, irritated and bruised. Your stomach twisted with nausea, your head pounding as a flurry of questions stormed your mind. Without thinking twice, you reached forward and grabbed his wrist, forcefully pulling his arm towards you for a better look.

“The fuck is your problem!?” Vincent shouted, trying to pull away from your grip. Something inhuman took over as you held his wrist in your hand, your fingers locked tightly to hold him in place.

“My problem?” You fumed, looking up at his face. “What the hell is your problem, Vincent? Are these fucking track marks?”

“Oh, don’t pretend you care, doll. We all know that you don’t give a shit about me.” He seethed, giving another rough yank of his arm.

“Care?” You echoed his words, your eyes lethal as you stared a hole into him. “Vincent, I have given everything for you. You’ve nearly cost me my job, my place to live, and my sobriety. Caring about you is all I know how to do, even when it fuckin’ ruins me.”

“There it is, whining like a little bitch again. Was wondering how long the peace n’ fuckin’ quiet would last.” He growled, not backing down from your hostile embrace. “Nobody asked you to do it, sweetheart. You just get off on sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. We don’t need you, and we never have. Why don’t you run back to Utah and find someone else to bitch at, ‘cause I’m gettin’ fuckin’ sick of hearing it.”

You dropped his arm, his words equal to a stab in the stomach. His skin was burning, the heat lingering on your hand even after you cut contact. You knew his volatility was because he was suffering through the violence of withdrawal, but you held little sympathy for the fact, especially after every other injustice he had committed against you. He was suffering, but it did not excuse his mistakes, nor did it make the pain that stemmed from his words hurt any less. He may be sick, being eaten alive by a disease you knew to be the deadliest of all, but it didn’t change the fact he lied. He wasn’t fucking trying at all, and he only said it to gain a sympathy card from you.

Just like always, the only person he ever cared about was himself.

You weren’t sure why it stung so badly, but the damage was done, and you were sickened at the thought of the person who stood before you. He was someone you thought you loved, who you gave everything for, someone who pulled you along by a string but never gave anything in return. You were having a hard time feeling any remorse for what you did to hurt him, because he seemed to make hurting you into his life’s purpose.

“Fine, Vin. I’m done. If that’s what you want to hear, I’ll say it: I’m fucking done.” You felt tears rush your eyes, your chest burning with indignation as you swallowed back his harsh words. “Keep ruining your life, but don’t fuckin’ call me to fix it anymore.”

“Yeah, okay.” He cackled, mocking you as if your breaking point was humorous to him. It was no more than salt in an already lethal wound. “We both know you’ll come whenever I call, no matter who’s in your bed. You know what you fuckin’ deserve, doll, and you’re looking at it. Keep actin’ high and mighty like you aren’t a junkhead too, but we all know it, and you’ll come crawlin’ back to me sooner or later.”

“Fuck you, Vincent.” You spat, feeling the tears fall onto your cheeks. He was so good at ruining you, and even if you believed you’d built yourself back up, it only took him a moment to tear it all down again. “You’re a piece of shit.”

“Quit with the pity party, sunshine. You’re no better. Go cry to your fuckin’ boyfriend—maybe he’ll actually give a shit.” He snatched his money from the table, shoving it in his pocket as he turned on his heel and stormed out the front of the building. You bit back a sob as the door of the diner slammed shut, and listened as his car door did the same. In an instant, he was backing out of his parking space, and not long after he disappeared down the street.

“Come on, doll. You know he doesn’t mean that.” Dylan whispered, joining you in the dining room and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He reached to your face with his other hand, swiping your cheeks clean with the back of his hand. “He’s just in a rough spot right now.”

“God, stop defending him!” You exploded, sickened at the thought of Dylan excusing Vincent’s horrific behavior. It wasn’t Dylan’s fault, but in the moment you were so angry with Vincent that it was bleeding into every aspect of your life. After hearing him say so many horrific things, it hurt to think Dylan was so forgiving of his actions.

“I’m not defending anyone, angel.” Dylan corrected. “What he said was awful, and it’s not true, and you know m’gonna give him shit for it, later.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” You let out a shaky sigh, pressing your palms to your eyes to satiate the tears irritating them. The coolness of your skin felt good against your swollen face, the dreaded consequence every time you dared to shed a tear. “It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t be mad at you. I just get so frustrated. He tells me he’s trying to be better, but then he goes and does shit like this! Makes me feel like he doesn’t care at all, like he doesn’t actually want to try.”

“He cares, sunshine, and he wants to be better. Just don't know how.” Dylan shrugged, pulling you into his side a little further. “This is all he’s ever known, all he ever thought he needed, ‘till you came along.” Both you let the words hang heavy in the air, not sure how to continue on from there. “Vin’s always been the heartbreaker, and he doesn’t know how to handle it now that the tables’ turned on him. He loved ya, doll. Still does.”

“If he loved me, why the hell did he let us get here? Why is he so mean, all of the time? Always trying to break me down, to hurt me so I feel stuck with him. I loved him as he was—I just needed him to get sober.”

“That’s like leading a horse to water and telling it not to drink.” He laughed, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he thought of the sad analogy. “Vinny’ll always be this way. Maybe not this fucked up, but it’ll always be a part of him. Got it from his folks n’ they got it from theirs. Do you want to be with him?”

“I did. M’not so sure anymore.” You mumbled, closing your eyes as you rested your head on his shoulder. He smelled like cheap cologne and cigarettes, a comforting smell that had become your favorite part of the day. “Even if he changed tomorrow, I don’t think it would take away all the bad he’s already done.”

“Mr. Country Club have anything to do with that?”

“Stop calling him that.” You laughed, lightly jabbing your elbow into his stomach. Dylan faltered slightly at the action, but his own laugh filled the air not long after. “I don’t know… maybe he does. We’re not in love or anything, and he’s leaving at the end of the summer, but it made me realize I wanted more, I guess. More than Vin, more than the life I’ve built for myself here.”

“Then chase it, sweetheart. If he feels the same, don’t stick around for us. You gotta be happy. You gotta take care of you.” Dylan said, more serious than ever before. “You waste your time and energy keeping us alive, then you wonder why you can’t get ahead. We’d be lost without you, but I’m scared we’ll lose you if you stay, too.”

“It’s just a lot, you know? I moved here to make something of myself, and I did the opposite. Now I’m stuck here, and I’m terrified of taking another leap of faith. What if the next one turns out worse? Least I know the shit this life has to give me.” You explained, staring out into the parking lot as you noticed the morning workers begin to pull in. “It’s all scary, Dyl.”

“Sure it is, but you’ve got a good head on your shoulders and I know you could make it anywhere in the world. If he asks you to go with him, go. I know you worry about us, but you’ve been searching for a ticket out, baby.” He explained. “If this guy really is all that, it’s worth chasing. I’ve never seen you this happy.”

“How could I leave you, though? How could I leave Vin, or John. Hell, I’d even miss Liam.”

“That gangly fuck?” Dylan laughed, looking down at you. “Bet there’s a million guys just like him running NA meetings all over the states.”

“It’s too early to tell. I’ll just have to see it through, decide when I get there. Never been a person to plan anything. Chaos is the only thing that makes sense to me.” You frowned, saddened by the truth behind the statement.

“You can make anything make sense if you try, angel.” Dylan gave your arm a squeeze, making sure you understood what he meant. “As for Vin, he’ll tire himself out. I’ve seen him go through this before, and he always pulls himself out of it. You just have to make up your mind, okay? If you don’t wanna be with him, he’s gotta know that he’s never got a chance. If not, you’re both hurting for no reason.”

“It’s hard because I always want to be with him, even if I know I can’t be, or I shouldn’t be.” You explained. “I just want him to try, to show me that he wants me and he means it when he says it.”

“He means it, Y/N.” Dylan assured you. “Drugs aside, he loves you. He might not know how to show it, but he sure as hell feels it for you. I’ve never seen him so pussywhipped for anyone—I knew from the very beginning it had to be more than just some tail. Being caught up on girls was never his thing… ‘cept when that bitch at the Pony gave him the clap. That was for a different reason, though.”

At that, the two of you found yourselves in a fit of giggles.

“Thanks, Dylan. I know it’s always been you two against the world. I don’t want you to feel like I’m trying to get between that.” You whispered, grateful for his presence but remorseful for taking him away from Vincent.

“You kidding, doll? You’ll always be my favorite girl, even if you don’t put out for me.” You rolled your eyes, knowing he was joking so you let it slide. “You’re the only name I got saved in my phone, after all.” He reminded you, giving you a gentle pat on the back as the door swung open and the morning crew piled in. “Get home and get some sleep, baby. I’ll see you tomorrow, and I’ll be sure to tell him he’s a fuckin’ idiot.” He stepped away from the counter, nodding at the morning staff as they passed by.

“See you tomorrow, Dyl.” You breathed, refilling your cup with soda as you watched him walk towards the door. “Thanks again.”

“Don’t mention it.” He said, backing into the push-door and stepping into the early morning air. You watched as he disappeared into the parking lot, the peek of sunshine on the horizon sending his shadow over the gravel below, growing larger as he approached his car.

“You okay, Y/N?” Betty, an older waitress approached you as she tied her apron around her back. You broke yourself from your thoughts, swiping away the lingering tears under your eyes as you gave her a nod.

“Yeah, f’course.” You assured her, pushing yourself off the counter. “You have a good shift, now. I’ll see you this afternoon.” You offered her a smile, shoving your tips in your pocket as you grabbed your bag from the counter. You felt bad for avoiding her, but talking about Vincent was not something you were keen on doing with someone who would never understand. For some reason, you still felt the need to defend his name, even when he did all he could to trash yours.

You sent a wave over your shoulder, sickened at the memory of the words spat in your direction, but forcing your legs to carry you outside and continue on despite wanting to lie down and give up. The fresh air felt nice, but the vibrations of your phone in your back pocket did not. You fished it out, glancing at the screen to see who was calling. Your lips dipped down into a frown, seeing Danny’s name scrawled across the screen but not having the heart to answer. Instead, you let it ring to voicemail as you walked down the street towards your apartment, pulling a cigarette from behind your ear and lighting it with an almost dead lighter in your pocket. After a few moments, you drafted up a reply for Daniel, apologizing for not answering and letting him know you were much too tired to talk tonight.

You would send it when you got home, when you had peace and quiet so you could truly suffer through and process the wrath of your raging heartbreak. You felt guilty for brushing him off, but you couldn’t let him see you like this over a boy you promised you were well and done with. Danny didn’t deserve silence, especially not after the plethora of goodness he’d granted in your life, but that’s all you could afford to give him in the moment. You thought it was for the best, unwilling to subject him to the pain that you were constantly suffering from, unable to cause a change in the beauty of your relationship with the darkness Vincent carried around with him. Instead, you had a date with the bathroom floor and possibly even a cold shower (if the pipes were willing to grant you water flow, that is), which was the least appealing idea when you knew the comfort of Danny’s arms.

Once again, without even knowing, Vincent managed to wiggle his way through the boundaries you’d set in place, ruining every good thing you’d been working so hard at building up.

Once again, you were letting Vincent ruin your life. Instead of acting to change it, you would go back tomorrow and try to make amends for something that was never your fault to begin with.

This time, your heart was not the only one at stake, and the universe was begging you to realize it before it was too late.

Taglist: @imleavingyoufornewyork @itsafullmoon @bladenotblaze @jessicafg03 @dont-go-home-without-me @peaceloveunitygvf @torniturntomyarrow @lostoverseer @clairesjointshurt @jordie-gvf @lallisonl @smoking-jakelane @gretavangirlie @hollyco @aintthatapity @dont-go-home-without-me

[flowerpot-broppy]

SO! i feel bad about updating after so long! my life has been going…. uh... not so well to say the least. BUT! if you are wondering! overall, It's been ok, and i want to move on to trolls! First things first, Honey! shes doing ok development wise, but I wanted to give you guys a little something, something to cling too, a cool little bit while you are being so patient with me. so! introducing Feral Honeydew! I took some inspiration from a lot of different fics, but mostly from To Be Left Behind on AO3. ive been reading it since the beginning (chap. 11 through all of it tbh) and I love the way the feral behavior is portrayed, especially through the perspective of other trolls like Clay, JD and Spruce/Bruce. Anyway, with Honey in my au, she has not seen another troll (pop or otherwise) in 20 years! shes stuck to the forest and survived on her own, A tough cookie and maybe a little crazy and distrusting lol

Next up we have Mount Rageous!Honey X John Dory! So she finds him within the first few years (2-5) of him leaving the troll tree and they live happily ever after with 3+ kids cause I said so!! except not really cause JD goes back to the Troll Tree after 2 or 3 years and just assumes his whole family is dead, Yikes!!! He thinks all of his Bros and Grandma are gone and when he finds out branch is alive durring the rockpocalypse he totally flips! (its a whole thing, ill make a post about it later. Maybe.) Thats what therapy is for folks! and JD gets a lot of it in all my AUs before hes ready to have a family orrr even introduce Honey to any of the bros if they haven’t met already! Its only cause Floyd is in a life or death situation that JD even goes to his rescue, but he also has encouragement from his adopted daughter cotton!! ill be posting about her a lot soon too!!!! So! I have officially moved into my new house, BUT i am going to have to move into either another one close by, OR move across the country in a few weeks AGAIN… either way, I'm so sorry for being so busy and inactive!!! let me know if you guys have any questions or anything as id be happy to answer!

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

Hi its me again 😄😄😄 i'm the anon that sends my very first ask to you 🥰 actually i have reblogged and given tons of hashtags on your Studious works but i like being *mysterious* 🤫

Anyway i just wanna say that everyday i look upon the dashboard only to wait for your new update for Studious 😘 I adore this series so frickin much even when i'm not even a fan of series because i hate waiting but you are just that special to me 🤩🤩🤩 So have you got any planned date for the release of part IV, so that i can have the date marked on my calendar 🥺 its totally fine even if you don't have the exact date And maybe i'm too greedy, this would be all up to you, but may i have a tiny bitsy of sneak peak for the next part please please please 😭 i'm literally begging you 😭😭😭 just a lil part about 200 words then i can sleep peacefully tonight, but once again it would be your decision whether to feed us with the crumbs 🤗 (but i hope its a yes 😭😭😭😭😭) Please stay healthy and happy always!!! Thank you so so much for all the efforts you put into the series, i appreciate those a lot 💕💗💖😻

Hello again! I will resist the urge to look through all my notes so that you can retain your *mysterious* air!

I'm so sorry Studious is taking so long, I've had kind of a creative block these past few weeks. I literally open the document and just stare at it and don't write anything. Only a few blurbs have been coming to me.

I don't have an exact date, but I'm hoping it'll be soon! I do have kind of a busy week this week - I have several job interviews and I'm going wedding dress shopping with my sister - but I actually write best when I'm busy? So hopefully a lot of progress this week!

And because you're so mysterious and sweet... absolutely you can have a sneak peek!

For context, this is the beginning of Aemond's diary entry on his and reader's two-week anniversary. Or, as I like to call it in my outline, the "second fucking."

Studious IV Sneak Peek

The 26th day in the 5th moon of the year.

I had hoped not to make an entry today – for I had every intention of spending tonight in my wife’s chambers. But she is there, and tragically, I am here.

Tonight was almost worse than our wedding night.

When I saw her watching me in the training yard today, I thought… she was almost smiling – at me! She had no obligation to be there, and yet she was! She sought me out! She wanted to see me!

I had to bite back a cry of joy and relief. I immediately abandoned the rest of my training, nearly throwing my sword to the poor squire in the yard so that I could rush to the ramparts and greet her.

But when I got there, she was gone. I asked a few of the other lords and ladies that were there, but no one knew where she went. Even after speaking to her, however briefly, I still do not understand why she left.

You felt your cheeks flush with shame. Aemond hadn’t grimaced at you that day – quite the opposite. He had been so excited to see you there, and as usual, you had misinterpreted his reaction.

Or, based on how frequently these misunderstandings occurred, perhaps his expressions were merely indecipherable to normal people. Or, more likely, maybe just to you.

[thorin-apologist]

the big debut

sooo ive been writing this bagginshield fic on and off for the past 2.5 years, it isnt quite finished but im going to start editing and posting chapters very soon (expect month long hiatuses because im terrible) but i just wanna get it out there!!! so heres the prologue, which will be posted to ao3 along with chapter 1 whenever i finish editing it. if so much as one person likes this shit im gonna be spurred on to work faster. ANYWAYS heres the prologue under the cut!! (approx 2.7k words, no TW just slight angst)

Prologue

“You’d think I asked my cousins to die and leave behind a parentless child,” Bilbo said bitterly to Balin. He was getting quite sick of Thorin Oakenshield hastily leaving any room Bilbo walked into. In this instance, it was one of Erebor’s libraries.

“He doesn’t resent your decision to leave us,” said Balin as he led Bilbo to the section of books written in Westron. “In fact, I think he’s more ashamed of how upset he is – he thinks it is you, and only you, who should be allowed to grieve at this time.”

“Sounds ridiculous enough, so you’re probably right.” Thorin’s strange, stubborn ways never failed to exasperate Bilbo, even after one and a half years of knowing him. “So, is he just going to hide from me until I’m gone?”

“I’ll talk some sense into him, laddie.”

Bilbo perused the shelves with Balin at his side, flicking through books and handing Balin the ones that caught his eye. Although he had to force himself to skip over the thick, heavy, leatherbound volumes, he was determined to take as much of the Lonely Mountain he could carry back to the Shire with him, regarding all his chosen books and keepsakes as his real fourteenth share.

On the 22nd of September, just days ago, Gandalf had stopped by the Lonely Mountain to wish Bilbo a happy birthday - though of course, this was not his sole motive for coming. He joined the dwarven birthday celebrations, eating and drinking and singing with them all through the night, waiting until Bilbo’s merry mood began to dissipate with exhaustion before taking him aside and extinguishing any residual cheer left in him.

“I am sorry that I must dampen your spirits on a day of celebration, but there will be no right moment fit for this news and it’s best that I get it over with sooner rather than later.” Gandalf paused, waiting for the sleepy smile to slide off Bilbo’s face. “Upon my last visit to the Shire, I learned the news that your cousin Drogo and his wife Primula had drowned in a boating accident not long before my arrival. This was mere months after their son Frodo was born. He was taken in by the Brandybucks and will live at Brandy Hall indefinitely.” Gandalf fell silent again, but not for nearly as long as Bilbo needed to process the blow from this information. Gandalf’s next words echoed from far away: “Today is his first birthday - he shares the day with you. He would have a better life at Bag End…”

Bilbo had viewed the Shire as something he would ultimately return to when it pulled hard enough at his heart, but until that moment came, it wouldn’t hurt to stay in Erebor a little longer. However, a month had turned into two months, and two into three, and three into ten, and still he had not felt compelled to leave. It was only at this horrible news that he realised that life went on without him there - hadn’t stopped in his absence, waiting patiently for him to return at his leisure. In the end, it was the grief of losing two dear relatives, the thought of the orphaned boy, and the guilt of completely missing something so important that prompted his journey back to the Shire.

*

Balin must’ve done as he’d promised and given Thorin a talking to, because he finally came out of hiding and approached Bilbo just before his official send-off the next day. It was dawn, so the Lonely Mountain’s vast foyer was empty apart from him and Thorin. They faced each other in dim light by the towering entrance gates, Bilbo with an armful of books that Thorin narrowed his eyes at.

“Haven’t you outgrown burglary, Master Baggins?”

Bilbo smiled at Thorin’s folded arms, knowing he was not in any real trouble. “Maybe not. Why, going to banish me for it?”

Thorin laughed softly and dropped the stern façade. “Take whatever you desire. Erebor is forever indebted to you.”

Bilbo’s bare feet shuffled sheepishly on the smooth stone floor. He always felt awkward whenever anyone acknowledged his part in reclaiming Erebor. His actions had led to victory, but also to devastation for so many people, and the latter was what he remembered whenever it was brought up. He tried to push it from his mind, not wanting to dwell on it during his last moments inside this place. “Don’t tempt me, I might take something expensive.”

Thorin asked questions about Bilbo’s route home, whether Gandalf would accompany him for the whole journey, and if he had enough food and supplies to last them both. None of these things warranted a private conversation before the rest of the company came down, but Bilbo was glad for it to be this way.

Despite his close friendship with Thorin, they had rarely been alone together over these past ten months. Thorin was either out on regular visits to Dale and Lake Town, overseeing Erebor’s reconstruction, or being forced to sit down and look over what Bilbo liked to call ‘kingly paperwork’, which mainly consisted of reviewing outdated laws and renewing old trade agreements. Thorin worked hard, but for all his work, Bilbo knew that his gold-sick mistakes still plagued him. In any case, it was in Thorin’s nature to be among his people, joining in the grunt work instead of lounging on a throne and ordering others around. Bilbo enjoyed helping with the paperwork when he could, usually accompanied by Balin and sometimes Dain Ironfoot – Thorin’s most trusted royal advisors. On many occasions, Bilbo was invited to dine in the King’s private hall, meant only for royalty and any desired guests. This party usually consisted of Thorin, Fili and Kili, their mother Dis, and often Dwalin, Balin, and Dain. Bilbo would’ve liked to have seen Thorin outside of these settings, but this was virtually impossible. Now that he was leaving however, he knew he would cherish all the time he got to spend with Thorin’s family and the rest of the company.

The small talk drew to a natural close and a short silence fell. Thorin broke it.

“Do you have any intention of returning?” Thorin said it casually enough but refused to meet Bilbo’s eye. A book began to slip from under Bilbo’s arm. He caught it and wedged it back into place. Thorin added, “It will be a sore loss for Erebor’s counsel.”

“Balin will keep you right,” said Bilbo, stalling as he thought of how best to respond to the original question. “I would hate to never return. I hate that I’m leaving now.”

Thorin brightened. “So, you will come back? When you are able, I mean.”

Now it was Bilbo’s turn to avoid Thorin’s eye. “It’s not that simple. It was irresponsible of me to stay so long. Really it was irresponsible to come in the first place.” Thorin nodded, his eyebrows sinking back down. “Not that I regret it,” said Bilbo quickly, “No, not at all. But I have family; obligations…” Bilbo bit the inside of his cheek. “And I have already let them down by not being there. The funeral would’ve been months ago. And the boy, he needs—”

“Yes, of course. I know,” said Thorin gently, quelling Bilbo’s anxious rambling. “I know you must go back to your family. It was selfish of me to hope for anything else.”

On the contrary, it warmed Bilbo to know that Thorin Oakenshield wanted him to stay. A bolder Bilbo might’ve made it known to Thorin that he felt equally selfish, and that if Thorin elaborated on what he hoped, it might just persuade him to abandon his plans. But this conversation was already looking to become uncomfortable. Bilbo needed easy, clean goodbyes today.

Luckily, it was at that moment that the chattering of Fili and Kili began to echo into the foyer. They soon emerged from a connected hallway, accompanied by Dis, whom Bilbo had come to like very much. She had silver-streaked dark hair and a strong nose, like her brother Thorin, but she shared the same kind brown eyes as Kili. However, her beard was by far the most impressive of all her family; tamed, glossy, and styled in intricate braids.

“Knew he’d be the first one down. Thorin! Changed his mind yet?” Fili called as they all approached. Thorin rolled his eyes.

As soon as they came to the place Bilbo stood, Fili and Kili pulled him into a group hug, making him drop most of his books. Bilbo decided drop the rest so that he could reach up and put an arm around each of their shoulders.

These two had come especially close to death during last year’s war, as had Thorin. In the recovery tents as the battle died away, Bilbo sat at their bedsides with Dis, who had been a part of the army from the Iron Hills but had not managed to get to her family during the fight. During this time, she had opened up to Bilbo, telling him stories about Fili and Kili as children, and some surprising tales about Thorin in his youth. Bilbo learned about Frerin, her and Thorin’s brother who had been killed in battle before he could come of age, and of Dis’ late husband, who had died alongside him. It was then that Bilbo realised that her sons and Thorin were the only family she had left, and how close she had come to losing everything.

“Tauriel sends her love,” said Kili as he and Fili broke away, “she and Legolas are working on repealing the Elvenkingdom’s law against marriage between dwarves and elves. You might run into them in Mirkwood, actually – if they don’t end up banished again.”

“If I come past the Elvenking’s Halls, I’m marching inside and giving Thranduil a piece of my mind on the matter,” said Bilbo.

Dis stepped forward, smiling at him. “You are sweet, Bilbo,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It has been a joy to have you here. Our family will never forget what you have done for us.” Fili and Kili nodded in agreement.

“It has been an honour to be allowed to stay here for so long,” said Bilbo graciously, choosing again to ignore the uncomfortable latter statement.

“Don’t be silly, I am reluctantly allowing you to leave us,” she said. Bilbo smiled.

Dwalin and Balin came down next. Bilbo pretended not to notice Balin’s overly wet eyes, not wanting to copy them. Next came Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur. It had been Bofur whom Bilbo had ended up spending the most time around during his stay, as he was simply wonderful to be around; always finding ways to make Bilbo laugh after such a dark time. He gripped Bofur especially hard when they hugged, receiving hearty pats on the back in return.

Oin and Gloin soon joined the throng, and finally Ori, Dori, and Nori. Now that everyone was there, there was no point in delaying the inevitable. Dwalin and Dori headed over to either side of the gates and hauled the chains that opened them. The gates slowly parted outwards, revealing the bare grounds stretched out before the Mountain. The only things that had been added since the battle were some hastily built pens and huts dotted here and there. Mist obscured the horizon and muted the low-hanging sun’s rays.

Just outside the gates, Gandalf was standing by a cart attached to two horses and laden with all of Bilbo’s things. Bilbo and the company walked forwards into the chilly autumn morning. He reached the cart and loaded the last of his books. Gandalf looked down his long, crooked nose at him with sympathy in his eyes. Without saying anything, Gandalf gently patted Bilbo on the shoulder and boarded the cart. Bilbo turned around to face the fourteen dwarves, who were already huddling around him. They all took it in turns to embrace him (with some coming back for seconds), wishing him good luck and a safe journey.

When it was Thorin’s turn, he murmured in Bilbo’s ear as he held him, “Please write.” Bilbo nodded into the thick furs of Thorin’s cloak. They came apart for a moment. Then, to Bilbo’s shock, Thorin brushed his forehead against Bilbo’s. It was brief, but unmistakeable.

He heard a murmur from the group and hid his face as he climbed into the cart. Bilbo had been around dwarves long enough to know the gravity of that gesture. Bilbo valiantly tried to maintain his composure as he faced his dwarves for the last time.

“I will visit, if I can,” said Bilbo to the group, though he was looking at Thorin. Maybe it wasn’t as impossible as he had been telling himself; he might be able to find a babysitter once Frodo was old enough. Another impulse of irresponsibility might attack him again, and he could find himself running out the door without a handkerchief or a second thought. He would have to try a bit harder to fight these impulses now that he would have a child to look after. But if the last year and a half had taught Bilbo anything, it was that he could never be certain of what he might do next.

“You’d better,” Dwalin growled, and many of the others agreed in mutters.

“And likewise,” said Bilbo, his voice dangerously close to breaking, “you are all welcome at Bag End. Anytime.” As soon as you can, as often as you like, as many of you as Bag End can fit.

Gandalf took the reins and started the horses, guiding the cart away from the Lonely Mountain. Bilbo tried to keep his gaze on the dwarves, trying to burn their faces into his memory as they shrank away from him, but found that his eyes began to well. So, he twisted back around in his seat and faced the road ahead.

*

As soon as all the formalities regarding Frodo's adoption were dealt with, he had written a letter to Thorin, recounting his journey home, and greatly emphasising that he would love for them to meet again soon. The local postman would've surely fainted if Bilbo handed him a letter addressed to Erebor, so Bilbo entrusted his letter to Gandalf, who claimed he would be flitting to and from the East and West on ‘business,’ and would make sure it was delivered in good time.

Months later, Gandalf returned with Thorin's strangely formal response; that he would like nothing more, but he had to prioritise his duties as king and the ongoing restoration of Erebor. Bilbo understood of course - he had his own duties, what with being something of a parent, to be getting on with. Instead, he kept Thorin up to date with lengthy letters containing details of his contrastingly quiet life in the Shire, and many questions about the wellbeing of the other dwarves and what life as King under the Mountain was like. Sometimes he asked for advice on bringing up his nephew, as he knew Thorin had experience with Fili and Kili.

Bilbo wished for the same level of enthusiasm and detail in Thorin's replies but did not get it. In fact, each letter Bilbo received became shorter and more impassive than the last. Each time, Thorin found excuses to turn down Bilbo's (now somewhat persistent) attempts to reunite, whether it be in Erebor or Hobbiton. Bilbo couldn't fathom why this was. Thorin had earnestly requested that Bilbo write to him. Surely, he was not so busy that he couldn't write more than a few sentences. And if he was, why couldn't he get one of the others to write for him? After four years of this, Bilbo grew tired of how one-sided their friendship had become, and let frustration get the better of him. Halfway through a letter wishing Thorin a happy 200th birthday, he switched his tone and stated that Thorin need not reply if he no longer had the time of day for him.

Six more years passed, and he had not received another letter.

*****

aaaand because theres absolutely no way you could guess whats actually gonna happen in this fic just from the prologue, here’s a cheeky synopsis!

After years of lost contact, Thorin turns up on Bilbo’s doorstep with an awkward greeting and a dire warning. Upon learning about Gandalf’s uncharacteristically sinister plans regarding the ring, the hobbit and the dwarf king decide to take matters into their own hands. But are their hands the safest ones to carry the ring? (Spoiler: absolutely not).

[purple-babygirl]

Omggg I can't even tell you how much Ive missed you!! I was always thinking about you! I can't believe you're back! YOU'RE BACK!!! THIS JUST MADE MY DAY!! how long were you inactive for it felt soo long like 2 years! 🥺😭 I'm so happy your back and I hope you're doing well we all missed you!

I really missed you too so so much💜💜💜 Thank you so much for taking the time to say this you're making me smile through tears right now and I love you so much💜

Yeah, I'm 25 now it's crazy:"" I'm so sorry I've been gone so long i really am

I'm doing well because of all of this love tbh you guys are the best💜

I hope you're okay and safe and that this new year is being kind to you💜💜