#if you listen to this as a playlist i will propose on the spot

[confusedpaladin]

tagged by @themysticallovecabbage

Rules: pick a song for each letter of your URL and tag that many people*

*i am NOT tagging 15 people actually. if you see this and want to do it congratulations i have tagged you

c - caliform.i.a. (starkid)

o - our life, our love (softengine)

n - next in line (walk the moon)

f - flying (last dinosaurs)

u - ussee wa (ado)

s - strangler fig (the crane wives)

e - evolutional (big data feat. l1zy)

d - day and night (ok goodnight)

p - perspective (polite fiction)

a - alt du kan se (keiino)

l - limbo (royal blood)

a - allies or enemies (the crane wives)

d - dig (vrsty) (the latin version is also very good)

i - icarus (bastille)

n - nyarlathotep (bastion's wake)

moral of the story: you can trust me with the aux cord

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + twenty six

authors note: this chapter almost entirely covers grief. be prepared.

cw/tw: angst (discussion of grief and loss)

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

chapter suggested listening: "i hope you dance" by gladys knight, "lift me up" by rihanna, and "dancing in the sky" by dani and izzy.

masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 9k

Solana still vividly remembers the moment she was told her mother was dead. Not the moment where Nina died, where she took her last breath. No, that devastating memory is forever attached and molded to Solana’s recollection, something to never escape her, despite her best efforts to dump it into the sea of the forgotten.

No, the moment she was told is something different, somehow colder and heavier. 

She can still recall the sound of beeping machines, blurry, amorphous figures melting into something less abstract and more corporeal. The smell of nothing, sterilization that was quickly permeated by the overwhelming scent of her father’s cologne.

For some reason, that was more prominent and noticeable than the tube down her throat, preventing her from clearly speaking. It didn’t stop her from trying though. Because even with her barely cognizant state, with the fact that she wasn’t still fully aware of where she was and what occurred, her focus was on one person.

Her mother.

That was the intended word, Solana’s muffled moans and groans, fighting against the tube. The pain that shot through her little body while trying to move it wasn’t enough to stop her from asking. 

Mommy

It’s something that’s always sat with her. Influenced her in many ways. 

It’s also something that helps her understand a fraction of what Roman is going through right now, the feelings he might be experiencing. Everyone is different. She knows this. But, she also knows the feeling of loss. Of feeling alone.

And she swore to him he would never be alone.

Fetu is gone, yes. But, he’ll always have her.

It's what she keeps in mind as she and Jimmy arrive at Fetu's place and move to enter.

Solana had a feeling she would be walking into a difficult scene, but she hadn’t the slightest clue the severity of said difficulty.

“Oh my God….”

It’s bedlam. 

Chaos and destruction all around her from the minute she and Jimmy open the front door and walk in. Furniture turned upside down, shattered shards of glass littering the floor all over, dents and scuffs on the wall, indicating objects being thrown.

Solana even spots a few holes she can tell weren’t caused by objects.

They were caused by fists. 

But while Jimmy stands beside her, face not hiding his shock and slight horror at what lies before them, Solana’s similar expression stems from a different space.

It stems from how devastated her husband must be right now to cause such destruction.

“I’ve gotta find him,” Solana says, swallowing and moving to maneuver past the glass when a cautious but firm hand grabs her arm.

“Solana, let me find him.”

She doesn’t need an explanation as to why this is being proposed. The answer is written in red lettered concern all over his face.

She shakes her head. “No.”

Jimmy sighs, dropping his hand to gesture to the wreckage around them. “Solana….look at what he did.” She has. Hard not to. “He’s clearly not in a good place right now.”

“Would you be?” She challenges. “Put yourself in his shoes, Jimmy. In my shoes.” Voice breaking, she discloses. “You don’t know what it’s like to unexpectedly lose the one person who meant the world to you….and to not be able to say goodbye.” Solana sniffles, forcing out a shaky breath. “I know what he’s feeling right now, which is how I know what he needs, and it’s not you.”

Jimmy is silent. A small part of her understands and appreciates his concern, but he has to understand her side of things too. 

Roman may be his cousin, lifelong friend, borderline brother.

But, Roman is her husband. Her person. Her better half.

Her soulmate.

“I’ll be fine,” she reassures, reaching for his hand. “What I need you to do is find Ava.” She motions to the destroyed room. "We don’t know if she was part of this as well.” Because despite only one meeting, Solana can tell that Ava has a strong personality just like Roman. Loved Fetu just as much as Roman.

She has to be just as distraught.

Jimmy counters, “let me try to clean some of this up first.”

“No.” Solana shakes her head. “I can handle that.” Because cleaning up after men following outbursts is something, sadly, she has plenty of experience with. Countless times her father and brother would destroy rooms and force her to clean up their mess. So, certainly, she can do the same for a man whose actions are fueled not by rage.

But pain.

Loss.

Grief.

Especially when that man is her husband. 

“Solana—”

“And I—I want you to leave after that.” His eyes double in size, prompting her to explain. “Roman…..he’s gonna need some time. I don’t….I don’t think he’s going to want to be around anyone, even you.” Maybe even me. “I want to give him what he needs.”

“Solana—”

“I’ll be fine, Jimmy.” There’s not an ounce of her that believes she won’t. “I just need you to find Ava. Help her. And get back home, because I need you to keep Dulce for us.” She swallows, adding in a small voice. “He’s gonna need a couple days.”

More than that. Much more. But for now, it’ll have to do.

Jimmy still looks unconvinced. 

But, he eventually agrees, leaving to find Ava who had sent a vague text saying she needed air.

Nothing more.

It's how both Jimmy and herself suspect she's gone for a walk in the surrounding woods.

And as soon as he's gone, Solana is on the move, instantly going up the stairs.

Each step taken feels like there’s a ton of bricks attached, weighing her down, pulling her back and trying to keep her from exactly where she needs to be. It’s all mental and emotional, but it’s not enough to keep her from pressing forward.

She passes Fetu’s room without sparing a glance, both for her own mental sake and knowing that’s the last place he’d probably be. His room would seem the most logical place to start to look, but she also knows that when one is deep in the throes of grief, there is no place for logic.

So, she goes through each room, bypassing the bathrooms and Ava’s bedroom. Again, another place she just can’t picture him being.

It eventually leaves her with two options: the last guest room and his room. Given the cracked door for the latter, that’s the route she chooses.

Solana’s heart is slamming repeatedly against her chest, her eyes watering prematurely at what she knows will be a heavy ass sight. But still, she powers through those emotions, bypasses her own personal sentiments and focuses on him.

A gentle knock followed up with, “Roman?” Nothing. She’s not surprised, but she at least would like him to know it’s her about to enter and not someone else. Something tells her his reaction would be different—very different—if anyone else was trying to “disturb” him right now. 

Solana gently turns the knob, partially unsurprised to also find the room in a slight state of disarray. Not nearly as bad as the living room and entrance but still indicative of turmoil.

A lamp lays shattered near the door to the bathroom, a picture knocked off the wall, the TV also down on the floor. Nothing major beyond that, but even if so, it wouldn’t capture much—or any—of her focus. No, that’s because it’s already spoken for. 

“Roman….”

She sees him. Slumped on the floor, one long leg outstretched, other leg up, extend arm resting on his knee. Closing the door behind her, she rushes over to him, again unsurprised by how he doesn’t even bother looking in her direction.

Instantly, those watery eyes are upgraded to silent tears streaming down her face. “Ro…..” Carefully leaning down beside him, she finds herself reaching to push back some of his hair that’s not neatly tucked into his everyday bun but instead wild, hanging, unruly. 

A perfect representation of what he must be feeling. 

She shakes her head, “I’m so so—”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

There’s not a part of her that’s taken back by his words: hollow, empty, stoic. If anything, it’s expected. 

She expected this kind of reaction to her presence.

Shaking her head, Solana keeps her voice leveled. “I’m exactly where I should be.” Her gaze travels to his hand, a small gasp leaving at the blusied, lacerated, bloody state of his knuckles. “Roman—”

“I want to be alone.” 

Another emotionless statement, forcing her to look back at him. He looks shattered, but in a way that makes sense for him. No red, teary, puffy eyes. No. Just an empty look that hides an abundance of emotions. 

Solana makes sure not to stutter, stammer, or anything of the sort as she calmly replies, “I’m not leaving you alone.”

He closes his eyes, his jaw ticking, a sign of growing anger. It doesn’t deter her. “Solana, I want to be alone.”

“Roman—”

“I said leave!”

Silence

There’s a burst of silence that washes over the room following his outburst: loud, frigid, pained.

It’s been some time since he’s raised his voice with her, and the last time, her reaction was typical for where she was at that point. Scared, frightened, terrified even.

None of that could even remotely describe what she’s feeling right now. 

Solana has no reaction to his outburst. No flinching, no cowering, no wincing. Nothing.

“No, you don’t.” A closed, sullen smile as she moves a lock of his hair back out of his face. “You just don’t want to feel what you’re feeling. You’re angry and hurt and sad and confused and so many things you probably don’t even understand, because….because that’s what grief is.”

He says nothing, offers not outward reaction to her words. 

“I’m gonna say this one time and one time only.” She’s never been more sure about something in her life. “You can yell at me, you can scream at me, you can throw shit in my presence, you can even flip over every piece of furniture in this house, but I am not leaving. You may want to be alone, but you don’t need to be alone.” Pushing back more of his hair, it’s not missed on her the way he clenches his jaw. Not from anger. Something else. Something vulnerable. “I’m gonna clean and wrap up your hand, then I’m going to clean up downstairs and cook. I won’t talk to you unless you initiate it, and I won’t force you to interact with me. You can ignore me all you want, but as long as you’re here, I’m here.”  Her voice cracks as she stresses, “I’m not leaving you.”

Roman continues to remain silent following her heartfelt explanation, but it doesn’t bother her. None of what he’s done, what he’s said or not said bothers her, because right now, whatever he’s feeling is valid. 

“I’ll be right back,” she murmurs. Solana walks over to the bathroom and pulls out the first aid kit from the cabinet, returning to her husband who hasn’t moved. Silently, she works to disinfect and tend to his injuries. It’s not horrifically bad, but it’s not good, either. She’s unsure if Roman flexes his fingers to show nothing is fractured, but regardless, it’s appreciated and checks off a box without her needing to ask any questions.

Once finished, she informs, “I’m gonna go start cleaning up. Afterwards, I’ll fix you something to eat. I’ll have your plate on the table and text you when it’s ready. I’ll eat elsewhere.”

Roman continues to offer no sign that he’s listening to a word she’s saying. Still, it does nothing to deter her. Kissing his forehead, she returns the first aid kit to where she found it and walks out the room, leaving the door slightly cracked.

Solana walks back downstairs and stops midway to survey the damage around her. A lot is ruined beyond repair, but her focus is less on what was broken and more on ridding the place of the hazards. Starting with the broken glass.

Remembering where the cleaning supplies are kept, Solana carefully maneuvers her way across the floor and grabs the broom and dust pan. Wordlessly, she moves to clear the floor, dumping the shards into the nearest trash can. For extra protection, she vacuums the floor twice to suck up any remaining pieces. 

Following that, she goes to put back unbroken items where they belong. Pillows back on the sofa. A sofa that she had to tip over. Books back on the shelf. Pictures that once belonged in now broken picture frames on the coffee table. And the items of irreparable damage dumped in both the kitchen bin as well as the big bin out back.

It’s about half an hour of work, significantly less time than most people would need, but this isn’t Solana’s first rodeo.

She’s seen this movie before. 

Is very familiar with how it plays out. 

She’s about to start on the food when the sound of a door opening pulls her from searching the fridge to see what she can put together. 

Turning and walking towards the front door, Solana is already moving towards a despondent Ava, pulling her into a comforting hug. 

Ava sniffles into her shoulder, Solana’s eyes closing as she feels Jimmy’s sad gaze on them.

“I’m so sorry,” Solana whispers, holding her tighter. This is such a devastating loss on all fronts, and while he heart breaks for Roman not being able to see Fetu before she passed, Ava was the one who probably sat with her as she took her last breath.

Solana also knows how equally devastating that can be as well.

“Thank you for being here,” Ava murmurs, eventually pulling back and wiping her eyes. “And for….cleaning up.” She lazily gestures to the room that’s still not together but much better than it was.

Solana nods, taking Ava’s hand. “I was going to cook. Why don’t you—”

“Thank you, but—” Ava offers a small smile that doesn’t meet her eyes. “I can’t—I can’t stay here.” Her lips press together as she shrugs with one shoulder. “Too many memories.” Solana also understands that. Understands it well. “I have an apartment out in town. I’m gonna—I’m gonna go stay there for a couple days, at least until–until the funeral.”

Funeral……

Solana doesn’t want to think about that.

“Of course,” she nods. “But, if you need anything—”

“I know.” Another smile. One that more so meets the eyes. Comes from a place of gratitude. She then gestures up the stairs. “But, he’s going to need you more.”

————

It’s difficult. 

For many different reasons. Solana trying to process her own grief while wanting to support and be there for Roman, while he works through his own. And while Solana logically knows that Roman icing her out, to some extent, should be expected, it doesn’t make it any easier.

Doesn’t hurt her any less to know he’s hurting but won’t let her help him.

But, she also knows she made that an option for him, and she doesn’t regret it. Nothing could stop her from being exactly where she is, even if Roman hasn’t said a word to her since her arrival almost three days prior.

Occasional glances and head nods, but nothing verbal. That also hurts, but she doesn’t take it personally. Knows that he’s just weighed down by everything that’s happened. 

She just continues to do what she can, prepare his meals that he eats alone, handles cleaning and laundry as he seems to spend the bulk of his days in the home gym or outside on ruins. A lot of avoidance behavior. But, she’s starting to see that’s maybe just how Roman copes.

He doesn’t. He just avoids shit until it “goes away.”

But this….this isn’t something to avoid, something that will go away.

He’s going to have to confront his emotions sooner or later.

Solana shifts on the bed in the guest room. The room where she’s been sleeping, already knowing that if Roman can’t even bring himself to interact with her, the likelihood of him wanting them to sleep in the same bed is slim to none. 

Another thing that’s hard. 

She’s just gotten so used to sleeping in his arms, but that’s a thought that’s much too self-focused. Her needs matter, but so do his, and right now, he’s not able to provide her that. 

And that’s okay, because he’s not okay.

She just wishes she could do something to help that. 

Her phone lighting up with Dr. Stratus smiling face is a nice distraction. “Solana.”

“Hi, doc,” she greets, shifting on the bed. “Thank you for—for making time for this.”

“It sounded important,” her psychiatrist's grin shifts into more of a frown. “And judging by how sad you look right now, I bet it is.” She directly asks, “what’s going on?”

So much. Too much to even fully unpack. “Roman’s…..had a loss in his family recently, and it’s….it’s hit us all pretty hard.” Him, arguably, the most, but also, her meeting and connecting with someone as much as she did with Fetu only to lose her so quickly…..it’s rough.

To say the least. 

Dr. Stratus frowns. “I’m so sorry to hear that.” Solana already knows the question before it’s asked. “You know I have to ask. Are you experiencing any type of ideation?”

“No.” An easy answer. “Not at all. Just….heavy emotions.” Extremely. “Part of that though…..is probably because I’m pregnant.”

A gasp. “Solana.” Again, Dr. Stratus is smiling, still not as deep as her initial grin. But filled with excitement. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Solana sniffles, wiping at her eyes. “I’m sorry, I just—” She’s unable to catch the tear that spills down her cheek. “I still haven’t told Roman, and—and now that this has happened, I don’t even know how I’m supposed to tell him.”

Because that’s the other noxious thing about all of this. How wonderful, life-changing news has been tabled by horrible, also life-changing news.

In no universe can Solana understand and come to terms with how telling Roman about her pregnancy is appropriate. How is he to celebrate life when he’s just lost it?

It’s just all so terribly cruel.

Solana clears her throat. “I went to Roman’s doctor to do the test for me, and it came back positive, but he’s also certain that we’re having twins.”

“Oh, wow,” Dr. Stratus sighs, sympathy written all over her face. “Solana, I can’t imagine how difficult and confusing this must be for you right now.”

Solana whispers, “very.”

“Have you….have you spoken to Gail about this?”

She shakes her head. “No, because…..because it feels wrong—it is wrong—to keep telling people when my own husband doesn’t even know.”

Because it does. Because in a perfect world, she would have come up with a sweet and sentimental manner in which to break said news to him. Instead, she’s having to hide it from everyone around her—including him—sans the medical professionals she needs to know for various medical reasons.

“I understand.” Her voice is kind and calm, a constant. So very much appreciated. “But, you know, like myself, Gail is bound to confidentiality. As your therapist, she can help support you through this on the clinical side.”

“I know, but….but, I signed that paper allowing her to speak to Roman.” A full release of information. Solana knew what it was when she consented and still does now. 

“That doesn’t matter,” she counters. “You can revoke it any time, or even if you want to discuss it and make it clear she’s not to share that with him, you can. You are her client. Not Roman. Her responsibility is to you.”

Solana sits on the helpful advice. She’d forgotten Gail had made that clear when explaining the ROI. That it wasn’t the end all, be all, allowing Roman to know anything and everything about her. 

She might have to keep that in mind.

“So, I take it, you’ve only told me because of your medication, correct?” Solana nods. “Well, I wanna keep you with the Sertraline and Hydroxyzine. We could probably keep you on the Wellbutrin as well, but with a multiples pregnancy, I don’t want any take any risks.” She goes on to explain the plan, the way Solana is to taper off one medication to start another. Solana takes notes to avoid missing anything and makes sure to let the other woman know she probably won’t be home for a couple days. Thus, the switch won’t be immediate. 

That’s another thing that alerts Solana to how low her husband must be feeling. He hasn’t realized or either maybe just feels too down to even be on top of her medication. She’s been giving it to herself, which is something she’d like to become a regular thing. But, Roman not being as strict about it is yet another telltale. 

A strong indication of his continuing mental decline.

Another thing for her to worry about, and God is she worried. 

————

I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean

Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens

Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance

Sniffling, Solana pauses the music, unable to listen to anymore.

Fetu’s smiling voice and cheery voice suddenly fill the room, returning to her along with a bittersweet memory. 

“Such a beautiful song. One of my favorites,” she’d shared, guiding Solana through a traditional Samoan recipe. “You want to know my favorite line?”

Solana nodded, smiling as she continued to peel the potatoes. “Of course.”

She waited for Fetu to turn down the music before she recited the lines. “Tell me who wants to look back on their years and wonder where those years have gone. I hope you dance.” Solana watched the almost solemn look in her eyes before the older woman smiled warmly. “Life is such a precious thing. We all have such limited time here in the grand scheme of things. In the good and the bad, we must always dance and find something beautiful to look back at.” 

Solana’s tears intensify, still remembering, feeling the exact emotion she felt in that moment. So profound and moving.

She’d give anything to have just one more type of interaction or conversation with Fetu again.

Even if…..

Even if just to tell her about the pregnancy. 

That makes her cry harder.

It takes a good twenty minutes for Solana to gather herself, to feel ready enough to check on Roman, to see if he needs anything before she goes to bed. 

Day five of his grieving has arrived, and he’s still not spoken to her. It still hurts, but it’s not a major concern.

What is a concern is everything else. His isolation. His helplessness. His sadness.

Solana knows better than anyone else what a depressive episode looks like, and the last thing she wants is to see him slip into one of those.

But, if he doesn’t stop shoving his feelings away, shutting down and dissociating…..that might be where he’s headed. 

Solana bypasses knocking on his door as it’s partially ajar. She instead walks in only to find the balcony door also open, Roman, shirtless, sitting on the chair, staring at absolutely nothing.

She frowns. 

It kills her to see him like this. 

Walking over to him, she stands just close enough for him to hear. “Ro? I’m going to bed. Do—do you need anything?”

His response is as the rest have been. Nonverbal. He simply shakes his head no.

She’s grateful he can’t see the disappointment in her face. “Okay.” Dejected and deterred, Solana turns to leave and return to her room.

“I didn’t come see her enough.”

Solana stops dead in her tracks as his deep voice penetrates the silence. For a quick second, she doesn’t trust it. Doesn’t trust her own hearing, because Roman hasn’t said a word to her in days. And yet…..

She turns toward him, realizing that her hearing isn’t needing testing when it happens again. He speaks. “I should have—I should have listened to you.” Solana walks so that she’s standing in front of him, where she’s partially eclipsed his view of the dark forest and sky that’s littered with a blanket of stars. “I should have—” He closes his eyes, as Solana kneels down in front of him. 

“Please don’t do that,” she begs, shaking her head, taking his hands in hers. His right hand has healed nicely following her tending to it at least once a day since he messed it up. “Please don’t blame yourself. She wouldn’t want that.”

Studying him, Solana is realizing this is the most expressive Roman has been in days. She could feel his grief before, but she can actually see it now. “She knew you loved her, Roman. And she loved you, too.”

“It wasn’t fucking enough though.” The anger is rising again, but it doesn’t deter or scare her, just makes her heart ache. Because she knows it’s just a cover-up for an abundance of sadness. “Never enough.” Her heart fractures even more as he says in a pained, tortured voice. “I wasn’t enough for her….to stay. Not—not her. Not my parents. My uncle. My siblings. None of them.”

And it’s really not until this moment Solana has truly known what it means to see the person you love the most break down before you.

This is a completely different side of her husband. 

This is vulnerability. 

“Ro…..” Fingers raking through some of his hair, she does her best to find any words that could provide him some type of comfort, all while knowing nothing can ever really take away his pain. “Baby, you are enough.” More than enough. “What happened wasn’t your fault.” 

He looks away, clearly distraught. “I couldn’t save her this time.” Her eyes shut. This is heartbreaking. “I didn’t…..I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

Solana’s chest aches. Tears brimming in her eyes, she stands up. “Come here.” She doesn’t even have to try to embrace him. Roman already has his arms around her, tugging her closer as he lays his head against her stomach. 

It takes a second for it to register, for her to recognize there’s a slight tremble of his body against hers. For her to understand why his grip on her seems to tighten by the second. He’s holding her so tightly. 

And, it’s when she hears it that it registers.

It’s when she hears the quiet sniffles that it hits her like a ton of bricks. 

He’s crying. 

Another brief second of shock that’s quickly washed away by her natural instinct to nurture and protect. 

“I’m so sorry,” she murmurs, holding him, kissing the top of his head. “Baby, I am so so sorry.”

For one thing and one thing only. His loss. What Fetu’s death has done to him, how it has impacted him so deeply. What’s she’s not sorry for is this long awaited breakdown of sorts. Roman has needed this. Needed it for so long. To finally breakdown and feel his feelings, and while she knows better than anyone how uncomfortable and overwhelming that can be, it’s also inevitable.

This was bound to happen.

She’s just grateful she can be here to support him through this.

The way she always will. 

————

Roman’s breakdown proved to be the catalyst. The thing that helped progress him from this almost stoic state of dissociation to a state of feeling and being. He’s actually talked to and with her. More interaction that doesn’t feel forced, almost natural. What she’s used to. To some degree, because he’s still sad. Of course, he’s sad. Still grieving. All normal.

But, he’s no longer icing her out, and that’s all that matters to her. 

So much so that he’s continued to accept her nurturance and affection. Welcomes it. Craves it, almost. The way he’s welcomed her back into the bedroom, sleeps at night practically on top of her, head on her chest as she rakes her fingers through his hair. The way he pulls her onto his lap as they eat. It’s all so subtle but also loud. The kind of love and support he’s clearly needing, and she gives it all to him.

Whatever he needs, she’ll do.

Solana presses a kiss to his temple and runs her fingers along his broad shoulders as he lays back, almost relaxed against her, the bubbles surrounding them covering the majority of their bodies, warm water infused with lavender and chamomile contributing to the serene atmosphere she was aiming for.

A goal that seems to be working based upon how at ease he feels against her, the leaking of the tension from his big body. 

“I’m gonna drive tomorrow,” Solana informs. Because Roman’s emergence from his dark hole has also meant reintegration into reality and society. Over the past two days, she’s overheard him taking phone calls, some in English, some in Samoan. And from what she could make of these calls is that they were pertaining to funeral arrangements for Fetu.

Clearly, as the funeral is set to be held this upcoming Sunday. 

She has such mixed feelings on that. On how hard that’s going to be for her husband. 

But, one thing at a time.

“I can drive,” he answers, eyes still closed. 

Sighing quietly, she angles her head so that she has a better view of his face. “I said I’m gonna drive.” At that, Roman opens his eyes, clearly taken back by her calm but firm push back. Frowning, she strokes his beard. “I want you to rest.”

Because, she does. Because he’s going to need it. Because in this space for the past week, he’s been able to just be. Be angry. Be hurt. Be sad. Be anything he needs to just be a human freaking being.

But, once they’re back home, all of that has to be turned off. He won’t have the space to be anything but the Tribal Chief and not a man just grieving a very important person. 

So, she wants him to have as much time dwelling in this safe space as possible, and that includes being able to relax while she gets them back home. 

“Besides, I haven't done it in so long, I need to make sure I still remember.” Being chauffeured quite literally everywhere has entirely deprived Solana of the need to have a car of her own but also to actually, well, drive.

Roman scoffs quietly. “That’s reassuring.” 

Rolling her eyes, she flicks his shoulder and murmurs with a small smile, “shut up.”

He does, but it’s only in preparation for what comes next. “Thank you.”

She has a feeling what he’s referring to, but assumptions have rarely done society any good. “For?”

His reply is instant. “All of it.” 

Comfort. It’s something she’s clearly been providing him but something he’s always provided her. 

Solana moves her hands down his chest and across his shoulders, mouth against his temple. “I’d do anything for you…..” Because she would. Anything at all. “Anything you need, just tell me, I’ll do it.”

He’s done so much for her. Supported her through some of her darkest, lowest moments. The least she can do is return the favor. 

Solana watches him sit up, never takes her eyes off him as he adjusts himself so he’s facing her, gently pulling her so she’s almost straddling him. The movement creating a ripple of waves that brushes against their conjoined bodies. Her wet hands move to his face as his move up her damp back.

“I just need you.” It could mean a lot of things, could refer to many of the things she’s done with and for him over the past week. But, that look in his eyes, the way his still solemn gaze drops to her chest, how his hands are moving to her hips, she knows exactly just how he needs her right now. 

Solana reaches past him to turn the knob to start draining the tub before ghosting her lips over his, murmuring, “so take me.” 

————

Being back in their home is an experience. A bit of a tease, really. Because while it’s nice to be in her house, with Dulce who seems to stay by Roman’s side, clearly sensing his grief, it’s also bittersweet.

Because it doesn’t change what’s happened. Doesn’t make the feelings of sadness go away. 

Doesn’t stop Solana from thinking about the letter Fetu gave her, from trying to figure out if it’s the right time to give it to him.

A dilemma that haunts her in the days leading up to the funeral as she works to support and be there for her husband while also managing her own pregnancy symptoms that seem to pop up at the most inconvenient times.

It’s only by the grace of God that Roman hasn’t walked in on her hunched over the toilet, emptying her stomach from any and all food consumed. An irritating occurrence that seems to happen when she’s trying to cook.

She's definitely noticed an increased sensitivity to certain smells. Spices and seasoning that have always been staples in her cooking shelved due to her literally unable to tolerate the nausea that they cause her to experience just from the aroma alone.

Irritating, to say the least.

But, it’s the morning of the actual funeral that has her anxiety spiked, her concern at a naturally high baseline level. All things considered, she just has to focus on being there for Roman. Whatever that looks like. 

Still, it’s heavy and sad and just gut-wrenching.

Just about ready, only needing to slide her sandals on after letting Dulce outside to relieve herself, Solana decides to check on Roman. 

She finds him sitting on the edge of their bed. Like herself, he’s already dressed. A white, short sleeved button up shirt accompanied by a skirt-like wrap with tribal designs. A lavalava, according to Ava with leather sandals. 

She’s certain he heard her walk in, but he remains sitting, head down, ula fala on the bed beside him. Gently closing the door behind her, Solana walks over, partially surprised by how he reaches for her. Hands on her hips, her eyes never leave him as he lifts his head, clearly taking in her outfit. There’s a moment of anxiety under his intense gaze.

It’s easily squashed, however, when he says in a low voice, “you look beautiful.”

His compliment is so appreciated, especially when she thinks about his ability to still balance his grief while also making her feel so special. “Thank you.”

Solana moves her hands to the back of his head as he holds onto her, resting his head against her stomach. “I don’t want to do this.” Her eyes shut. She knows he doesn’t. “But, I have to.”

And that’s the part that kills her. That so much of handling this falls on his shoulders, is his responsibility because of his title. It kills her because it deprives him of just being able to grieve.

“I know, baby,” she comforts, gently stroking the back of his neck. “But, you don’t have to do it alone.”

She feels it. The heavy sigh against her. A sign of a semblance of relief. She’ll take that. She’ll offer that in any way that she can.

Roman sits back up, Solana watching him stand before her. Reaching to his side, she’s careful in how she picks up the ula fala and holds it before him. “Can I…..”

He nods and dips his head, allowing her to place it upon him. Solana is mindful of the placement, remembering the exact place it’s always sat when she’s seen it on him. And when he straightens to his full height, she moves her hands to his chest and says, “I know that you have to be the Tribal Chief today, but when it’s all said and done, and everyone has left and it’s just you and me, all I want and need you to be is Roman….that’s it.”

Because Roman is a man grieving. Who needs to be able to freely feel his feelings.

Whether he wants to or not.

Solana nods and leans up to kiss his cheek before taking his hand in hers, reminding, “I’ve got you.”

He says nothing, only nods, but he doesn’t have to. She can see the appreciation—and love—in his gaze.

—-----

Solana has never actually attended a funeral before. By the time she woke up from her coma, Xavier already had her mother buried, depriving her of that formal goodbye.

So this is a first for her. Different. She quickly learns that death is something that is not necessarily seen as a bad thing in Samoan culture. Sad, yes, but the focus is on the celebration of life, which she started to figure based upon the white color scheme.

Given the nature of the situation, Solana is unsurprised by the small attendance. Roman’s preference, no doubt. Jimmy, Jey, and Rikishi are all expected guests, along with the preacher who officiates. However, it’s Paul and Dwayne who take her by surprise.

There’s a sense of gratitude, however, when they both hug Roman and offer their condolences. And she’s especially moved by the extended time taken with the hug from Dwayne, the way she can feel the empathy emanating from his tall frame.

She appreciates it deeply, and she knows that Roman does, too. 

There are also a couple of other attendees that surprise her but not entirely, as they uphold what she would guess are Samoan traditions for funerals. Song and dance. Prayers. 

It’s a beautiful send-off, one fitting for Roman’s eccentric aunt.

And almost the entire time, Solana remains by his side. Holding his hand or his arm, and if not in physical proximity, she always finds him, watching him. He is her number one concern. 

All things considered, he holds himself together well, but that’s highly due to the mask he’s wearing. The strong resilience he’s displaying in terms of not giving away the true extent of his hurt. But, Solana feels it. Feels it deeply when it’s just the two of them standing in front of Fetu’s casket, the others already departed and readying to leave. She’s about to do the same, leave him to have some semblance of privacy, only for him to tighten his hand that’s tightly clasped with hers. 

“Stay.”

A single, simple word. But, enough.

Solana nods, moving to hold onto his arm, standing quietly but supportively beside him.

As she always will. 

It’s after that, unfortunately, that things go downhill.

Solana partially expected the twins to come over following the funeral. Ava as well. All three, however, expressed their desire to give Roman his space. And, it’s appreciated, because Solana also believes that to be the best.

For right now.

However, that sentiment is not shared by Dwayne, Paul, and Rikishi. And truly, the first of the three is no issue. He doesn’t ride in the limo, opting to drive himself back to the house. 

But, it’s during that ride, for the first time since learning of Fetu’s passing, Solana feels anger.

Not even as part of the grieving process. No, she feels anger towards the two men who sit across from herself and Roman. She feels anger toward them because they haven’t even driven off yet when they’re throwing a bunch of work questions and situations at her husband.

Her husband who may look present, but she knows him well enough to know he’s not. 

And given how long these two men have known Roman, she would have thought they could see the same.

Maybe they don’t.

Or, maybe they do and just don’t care. Either one pisses her off. Makes it hard for her to hold her tongue.

Shipments. Orders. Contracts. All logical things someone in Roman’s state shouldn’t be dealing with. 

But, it’s exactly what they’re throwing at him.

Even as they arrive at the house, Dwayne taking a call out back, Paul and Rikishi barely have Roman sat down at their dining room table when they’re back at it.

“Orton wants to speak with you regarding re-negotiating the RKO proposal.”

“Stocks are looking good, but we need to start thinking about next quarter.”

“The Cartel are still interested in meeting. You need to make that happen ASAP.”

A bunch of irrelevant shit. Solana partially wants to stay outside with Dulce to avoid having to overhear it, but it’s impossible to not want to be present. To not feel the need to be present. 

Just what more do they plan to throw at Roman?

Her husband is responding, being responsive, but she can see it, hear it. The difficulty he’s having. 

And it has her nearly bursting at the seams, trying to focus on moving around the kitchen, early preparation for dinner, but it’s hard.

She’s given a chance though when Roman clears his throat and says something about changing before he stands up from the chair and starts to walk away.

Just like that, Solana knows this is her opportunity, her chance, and she has to take it. 

Because, she’s disgusted.

It’s only when she’s certain that Roman is upstairs, fully out of hearing distance that she finds herself asking, “what is wrong with you two?”

Both men look at her with partially startled, mostly confused, expressions. Rikishi is the first to speak. “What?”

Solana scoffs and points toward the steps. “He just buried his aunt. Her body isn’t even cold in the ground, and you’re asking him about work?” She continues, throwing out almost angrily, “does he look like he needs to be working right now?”

There’s a bit of a standstill. Paul looks flustered, his cheeks turning red like a child being scolded by a parent. Rikishi, however, wears an almost blank expression. “You are not Samoan, therefore you do not understand our ways. We do not mourn like you do. We celebrate life.”

“Yeah, well he’s not in place to celeb—”

“Roman is the Tribal Chief. What he needs is irrelevant when it comes to the Bloodline.” Rikishi’s interruption—and his words—have her taken back. “He understands what his duty is.”

“His duty…..” It’s potentially a build up of things, sadness and grief, manifesting as anger. Regardless, it’s growing with each word that leaves this man’s mouth. “Has he not given enough? He does everything he’s supposed to do for the Bloodline—”

“Except provide an heir,” Rikishi’s voice is as icy as the cold look in his eyes. “Or would that be you failing at the one job you have?”

Paul’s eyes widen as looks at the man beside him. “Rikishi—”

It takes so much, so much for Solana to not shut him up, to not tell him that she’s pregnant, hoping that he spreads it to any and all who’ve given Roman a hard time about not having a child.

Because fuck them. 

The chubby man lifts up his hand as he stands from his seat, rounding the corner of the table. “You are not Bloodline, so I’m not surprised you don’t know your place—”

“My place–” There’s not a single ounce of her wanting or willing to back down in this moment. “–is beside my husband.”

“Do not forget, girl, who put you in that position.” There’s an almost hint of disgust in the way the word ‘girl’ leaves his mouth. “You were nothing before him. Nothing but a punching bag for that pathetic father and brother—”

Solana has never considered herself a violent person, especially not someone who responds with violence. But, it’s almost instinct. Because one minute her hand is at her side, the next it’s colliding with Rikishi’s cheek, with an intensity that sends his head to the side. 

And she doesn’t regret it one bit.

Finally aware of what’s just happened, Solana can only process the anger in his fat face and the way he lifts his hand toward her. Except instead of cowering, she prepares to block it.

But, she doesn’t have to.

Because someone else does.

Solana gasps quietly at Dwayne who stands beside, almost in front of her, protectively, holding Rikishi’s arm in an iron grip. 

“I don’t think you want to do that,” he says with the perfect balance of lightness and seriousness. “Unless you want me to lay your candy ass out for breaking Bloodlines rules for putting your hands on a woman.”

Rikishi hisses and snatches his arm away. “She put her hands on me. I am an Elder.”

“I don’t give a damn who you are. You will not disrespect me in my house,” Solana swears. Never again will she allow any man to harm her, physically or verbally. 

And that’s a promise. 

Dwayne shrugs. “Sounds fair to me.” He then smiles, but there’s no trace of humor. “And like you said, she’s not one of us, so she doesn’t know our ways.”

Solana is surprised at that. How long has he been listening?

Paul suddenly steps forward, looking like he’s about to have a damn panic attack. “Clearly, there’s been some—”

“Get out.”

Solana’s interruption earns a variety of expressions ranging from surprisement, amusement and indignation.

Paul stutters. “I’m s-s-”

“I want you both out of my house.” There’s no stuttering on her end. “Now.”

While Paul looks confused between his friend and Dwayne, the latter chuckles, expressing, “I believe the wife of the Tribal Chief has made herself clear.” And just like that the smirk drops into a straight line as he orders, “leave.”

Paul doesn’t need to be told twice, the obese man hurriedly grabbing his papers with trembling hands. It’s Rikishi, however, whose gaze is now focused on her with borderline amusement.

He holds her stare, and she doesn’t dare look away. He will not intimidate her. 

Paul is mumbling and murmuring to the other man about needing to leave, something about coming back later, but again, he’s silenced by Rikishi.

“Well played, girl. Well played.” 

Rikishi turns to walk away when Solana finds herself stepping past Dwayne. “My name is Solana. Solana Reigns. The wife of your Tribal Chief, Roman Reigns, and you will address me as such.”

Paul looks like he’s seen a ghost, like he’s seconds away from pissing himself. Rikishi just stares with a cold smile, one that doesn’t prevent or scare her from continuing. 

“And if you ever raise your hand to me again.” she steps forward, invading his personal space the same way he invaded hers. “Just know that I don’t need my husband to kick your ass.” There’s an almost snarl to her lip as she vows, “I can do it myself.”

Because she can. Because if she can put her brother, someone who terrorized and literally tortured her for years in the ICU, she can certainly do it to the rotund man before her. 

He doesn’t say anything else, just turns on his heel and leaves out with Paul, but Solana knows better. Recognizes that look. Has seen it before. Knows what it means.

This isn’t over. 

And yet, there’s not a part of her that’s nervous, that feels scared or even upset with herself at how she responded.

Because she’s spent years being hurt and disrespected by men. No more.

Not for herself but also for the children growing in her stomach. Children that she strongly believes to be girls. Solana would soon rather die than have anyone treat her daughters the way she’s been treated.

And she knows Roman would and will feel the same.

So, it starts now. The demanding of respect that she’s always deserved.

Regardless of who her husband is.

Dwayne steps forward, gentle hand on her shoulder. “You alright?” Before she can answer, he informs, “I’ll make sure Roman knows about—”

“No,” she interrupts and shakes her head. “I mean, I’m okay, but I don’t want you telling him. He…..he has enough on his plate.” And the last thing she wants is anything else being added to it. 

Dwayne frowns. “I don’t disagree with you, but as the faletua—”

Now she’s the one frowning. “The what?”

“Faletua,” he says it slower, offering and explanation. “It means the wife of the Tribal Chief.”

Solana is temporarily taken back by that. She never knew there was a direct word for who she is to Roman. For what she is to the Bloodline. 

It’s…..surprising, to say the least. 

“Speaking to you the way he did was unacceptable, but going to hit you?” He shakes his head. “Thought he would have learned that shit don’t fly with us by now.”

Curious, Solana crosses her arms and finds herself asking, “what do you mean?”

Dwayne seems a bit reluctant at first, eventually lowering his voice and offering an explanation. “Look, I’m 13 years older than Roman and Rikishi’s twins, so they were too young or not even born to have been around Rikishi when he was a piece of fucking work. Hothead. Impulsive. Used to beat on his wife. Always felt like he should have been the Tribal Chief. Nakoa, Roman’s dad, eventually had to give him an ultimatum: he get some help and straighten the fuck out or he and his entire family would be ex-communicated from the Bloodline.”

Solana hears the word coming out of this man’s mouth, but it’s difficult for her to process said words. Everything seems so…..unbelievable, like it can’t be true. Like the biological father of Jimmy and Jey, who have become like brothers to her, could be the sons of someone so…..vile.

Someone abusive.

Dwayne continues, “he’d calmed down a lot by the time Roman and the twins were born, so they don’t really know much about it. How bad it was, at least.” He then adds over a dark chuckle, “that’s where Jey gets his temper from. His old man.”

Solana has a lot to think on, but she also has many questions, too. Obviously, Rikishi’s behavior hasn’t been a problem for some time. Yes, there was today’s incident, but Solana thinks she knows her husband well enough to know he wouldn’t put up with any bullshit. 

So perhaps today was just a one-off? Fetu was his relative as well, so there’s a good chance his grief is presenting as irritation similar to how Roman’s presented as anger.

And yet…..

There’s this small, nagging part of her that doesn’t believe that. Believes that there’s more at play than what meets the eye.

Is starting to wonder if she now knows who Fetu was talking about when she said she told her brother, Nakoa, not to trust him.

Shaking her head, Solana redirects her focus to the conversation at hand. “Thank you.” Because she’s grateful for this man that she doesn’t know very well but believes to be a good person. Someone who’s good for her husband. “I—I’ll talk to Roman about what happened.” And she will……just sans some details. 

He doesn’t need to know everything. 

It’ll only put more stress on him, and he doesn’t need that.

Dwayne seems unconvinced, but he doesn’t argue. “If that’s what you prefer.”

“It is,” she answers. Switching gears a bit, Solana lowers her voice, sharing, “and thank you for being here…..for him.”

It’s not missed upon her the sad countenance that appears on his handsome face. “Gotta be honest with you, when I got the call, I was shocked. If I had known she was still……” Dwayne sighs and runs his hand over his face. “I understand why he kept it a secret. She….she meant a lot to him.”

More than you could ever know. “I know,” Solana whispers. The realization that Roman should have been back by now causes her to clear her throat. “I should probably go check on him.”

Dwayne nods. “I should probably get going anyway.”

Solana goes to protest, not wanting him to feel uninvited. “Oh no, you don’t—”

“You were right to tell them to leave,” he interrupts, gesturing to the steps. “He does need time.”

Solana says nothing, though feels immensely grateful to have someone who also recognizes that Roman is just a human being who just needs to feel and grieve instead of this machine that can just keep moving like clockwork.

Solana again thanks him for attending and his overall support before seeing him out the door and moving up the steps to check on her husband.

“Ro?” Opening the door to their bedroom, she's partially surprised to find Roman still sitting on the edge of the bed, clothes unchanged outside of the ula fala that lays on the dresser. 

He turns to her as she closes the door behind her and walks over to him. “I just….I need a minute.”

Moving in between his legs, she informs, “it’s okay. They’re gone now.” 

At that, he looks at her with a confused expression. “What do you mean?”

“Dwayne left on his own, but I made Paul and Rikishi leave.” And before he can say anything, she’s explaining, “I understand there’s things you need to get done, get caught up on, but the Bloodline can survive another day without you taking charge.” She sighs and cups his face, reminding him, “today was a lot for you. The least you can do is take the rest of it to just….be.”

She’s partially expecting him to push back, maybe even some irritation for her “speaking” on his behalf only for him to ask, “how did they take it?”

Shit. She wants to lie, feels like it would be an easy short term thing and maybe it would. But, the fact that she’s already keeping this pregnancy from him is more than enough secrecy for her.

“Paul seemed more scared than anything. Rikishi….he didn’t like it, but Dwayne backed me, so it was fine.”

A flash of anger appears in his eyes. “It doesn’t matter if he likes it or not. If you say something, he needs to fucking do it.” And this is what she wanted to avoid. Him getting upset when he doesn’t need to. “I’ll handle it.”

Solana shakes her head. “That’s not important right now.” Because it really isn’t. Especially since she’s already handled it. “Why don’t you change? Lay down. I’ll fix you something to eat. If I start now, I can have it ready by—” 

She’s stopped by Roman reaching her for her, his hands on her waist as he says so quietly, “stay with me.”

It’s such a quiet, little thing, but it’s something he’s wanting.

Something he’s needing. Thus, the answer is obvious.

Solana nods and reaches for the middle of her skirt, hiking it up enough so that she can climb on top of his lap. Roman moves them back on the bed as she lays on top of him, snuggling herself into his chest as he wraps his arms around her, holding her. 

“Thank you,” he says after kissing the top of her head. The vulnerability in his voice is aligned what she’s seen and heard in him off and on all week. “I don’t…..I don’t know if I could have handled with this without you.”

His words cause chills to sprout up her spine. Another thing she can relate to. The loss of her mother was something she once thought she would never recover from, largely because she had to deal with it alone.

But, Roman isn’t alone.

And, he never will be again. 

Holding him a bit tighter, she promises, voice clear and firm, “you’re gonna be okay, Roman."

And, he is.

She’s going to make sure of it. 

[annewithaneofthegreengable]

Homecoming Daydream

Summary: "So gorgeous. The prettiest angel for me. I can’t believe this is happening. Is this happening? I think I’m gonna cry. Am I crying? I can’t believe she’s marrying me. I’m the luckiest son of a bitch who’s ever lived."

Pairing: Toto Wolff x reader.

Genre: Romance, fluff and smut.

Author's note: This is a multiple-chapter Toto x Reader fanfic. Noted that English is not my mother tongue so there will be mistakes.

Part 2: Homecoming Daydream

A small playlist to listen to while reading this. Hope you guys will enjoy this just as much as myself!

Toto blinked slowly as the sunlight hit his face. It didn’t burn down like before. During the early afternoon, the light had taken on a softer glow, bathing everything in delicate golden hues. It was almost time, but Toto was getting a little impatient. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. Then he felt a hand patting him on the back.

“It’s gonna be alright, Wolff.”

“I know Lewis. Yet, I still doubt it. When life is too good there will always be something unexpected in the foreseeable future.” 

Toto sighed. 

“You’re worried too much! Not with the whole being selfish story again.”

“You don’t know it, Lew. She is still in her fruitful youth, she has a whole future ahead. What she really needs is to be with someone her age, someone to grow old with her, to be with her in this lifetime, to hold her hand as her best friend and soulmate, not someone who is just 1 year younger than her dad. I don’t even understand why did she choose to be with me in the first place not to mention accept my proposal. I’m scared Lew! What if she’s going to change her mind?”

“Don’t be scared. You don’t see the way she looks at you, do you? That woman is head over heels for you, as you for her. I don’t see why you shouldn’t be a little selfish now.“

Toto looked at his best man with a frown. 

„You really think so?“

„I do.“

They were quiet for a long minute before Lewis cleared his throat and nodded at the clock on the wall. 

„Better get ready, Toto. It’s almost time.“

„Yeah.“

Toto took a deep breath and ran his fingers over the material in front of him. The new suit. It had been a while. With a determined nod, he pulled it out of the bag and put it on. The dark fabric felt heavy and form-fitting, but not in a bad way. He tugged the suit into place and turned to face his friend.

„How do I look?” Lewis rolled his eyes but smiled.

“Like an old man.”

“Thanks. Should have chosen George or Nico to be my best man today.” He joked.

“Shut up, Wolff. You did not say that.” Lewis rolled his eyes. 

Toto nodded and took one last look in the mirror. He barely recognised the man in reflection. He’d gotten much older, of course, but still quite young fit for a man his age. Taking a deep breath, he smoothed out the suit and turned back around. 

“You sure you got the rings? Not Roscoe has it, right?”

Y/n chuckled quietly as everyone around her broke out in nervous chatter at the announcement of the time, shuffling around the room in a sudden frenzy. Her auntie was the worst, trading in her champagne glass for flowers, running to the other side of the room, before putting down the flowers again and downing her champagne in one go. 

​​„Are you okay, Aunt Lana?“ Y/n asked from her chair by the window. She had wisely chosen that spot to stay out of everyone’s way.

„Am I okay? I’m a nervous wreck. Are you okay, honey bee? You’re the one getting married today.“

„I know.“

„Then why are you so… so calm?“ 

Y/n shrugged and smiled to herself.

„I don’t know. I just… there’s nothing to be nervous about. I love him. I know that I want to be with him for the rest of my life.“

Her aunt sighed and gave her a warm smile. Then she abandoned her drink to embrace her niece in soft arms and a cloud of familiar bergamot perfume. 

„Oh, honey bee. I’m so happy for you.“

Y/n returned the hug with a chuckle. 

„Thanks, Aunt Lana. I’m happy too.“

When they pulled back, her aunt had tears in her eyes, which she dapped at with a tissue, careful not to smudge her make-up. Then she sighed again and laughed. 

„I still can’t believe you’re marrying an Austrian. And this Austrian, no less. I guess we let you watch too many Hollywood movies when you were younger.“

Y/n grinned and pinched her aunt playfully on the arm.

„Probably.“

„Before I forget, I brought this for you, honey bee. It was your grandmother’s and I wanted to give it to you for the ceremony. You know, something old, something borrowed and…“

„…something blue“, Y/n murmured softly, incredibly touched by the sweet gesture. „I didn’t know people actually did that.“

Aunt Lana shrugged and grinned, as she clasped the bracelet around Y/n’s wrist.

„Can’t hurt, can it? Plus it’ll look great with your dress.“

They hugged again.

“I love you, Aunt Lana. You have always been there for me, even when no one really wanted me in the first place, not even my mom. Thank you, for being my mom, and my best friend for all those years.”

„I know, I love you too and I wouldn’t be anywhere else. Except for now, because we’re going to go downstairs and make sure your husband-to-be doesn’t tear down the building, waiting for you.“

With that the bridal team got to work, helping Y/n into her wedding gown. A simple, but elegant square-neck silk dress that fit her like a glove. The girls from the make-up team had helped her with the hair and make-up before, but she had kept it light on purpose. It was still late summer in the south of France and she didn’t want to sweat through layers of foundation on her skin. 

„You look incredible. Your husband is going to drop dead, Y/n.“ her best friend said. 

“I certainly hope not. Still need him to stay alive for a while longer.”

“Either way. It’s time to finally make an honest woman out of you.”

Toto took a deep breath for what felt like the hundredth time today as he looked around, filling his lungs with the warm summer air that reminded him so much of the very first time he’d been here. The backyard of the chateau looked beautiful and decorated with lots of greeneries, roses and hydrangeas, her favourite flowers, of course. 

And after today, he would finally be her husband. With barely contained excitement, he hoped wasn’t entirely obvious to everyone around him, he took his place at the front of the altar. Fred grinned at him as he approached. They’d asked him to officiate the wedding and Fred had jumped at the opportunity, without hesitation. 

„Well well well, if it isn’t the blushing groom to be. How are you holding up, old man?“

“Clearly, I’m not the only old man here today.” Toto rolled his eyes but grinned.

“Never been better.” He added. 

„No cold feet?“

„None.“

„Good. Although maybe you could use a little cooling off since you barely made it through one night without your woman.“

Lewis snorted as he took his place as best man next to Toto, who turned pink all the way up to his ears.

„I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, really? So who did we have to hunt down last night for a little rendezvous with Y/n? FYI, Sebastian was going to report a missing case last night when we went to check on you.” 

Luckily Fred spoke low enough now that the guests were gathering. 

Toto cleared his throat and took another breath. Everything is gonna be alright. From one side of the garden, the full notes of the soft melody of “Lover” filled the air. (Who can possibly say no to “Lover” by TS in a wedding)

At that moment, he caught sight of the love of his life. Walking down the aisle, dressed all in white. Just for him. 

Christ. Toto let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He sent God all the best whispers despite not fully being a Christian himself. 

He’d impatiently waited for this day for months on end, even pictured this very moment countless times. Still, the image hit him with the force of a semi-truck to the chest. Toto was surprised he didn’t collapse where he stood. He must’ve at least swayed a bit, because he could feel Lewis’ hand on his shoulder steadying him. But despite his body’s wavering, he couldn’t tear his eyes off Y/n. Not even when he heard a low whistle of appreciation behind him. His brain had gone into shock, only able to form one single thought at a time. 

So gorgeous.

The prettiest angel for me. 

I can’t believe this is happening. Is this happening?

I think I’m gonna cry. Am I crying?

I can’t believe she’s marrying me. 

I’m the luckiest son of a bitch who’s ever lived.

The words, though swirling within his mind, failed to reflect the intensity of his emotions. The love he felt wasn't just confined to his heart; it permeated every fibre of his being, almost as if it were ingrained in his very essence. It lay dormant, awaiting the moment when he would finally encounter her, at which point it would awaken and alter the course of his life forever.

This affection transcended mere sentiment; it was a powerful force, an undeniable truth coursing through his veins with each heartbeat. He sensed it in the tightening of his chest upon her entry, almost so much that he felt like his chest was going to explode. This was the moment that he swore he would treasure it for this lifetime. Hell, he will even have it imprinted in his mind for the next life, even. 

And just like that, she suddenly stood in front of him, glowing and happy, looking so radiant, it was almost like staring directly into the sun – if that were a pleasant activity. Toto blinked, against his will, and once again noticed the moisture that escaped his eyes. He wiped at his face absent-mindedly, causing a chuckle to bubble up from Y/n’s chest, shaking her body with laughter as she dabbed at the corner of her eyes.

„Hey“, he whispered hoarsely, reaching out for her.

„Hi“, she whispered back, placing her warm hand in his. 

Finally.

[lyrakanefanatic]

tig couple hcs part 2: avery and jameson

——————————————————————————

• they don’t have that similar music tastes, (as avery just kind of listens to the same 3 songs on repeat until she gets sick of them and looks for another 3 songs to listen to 😭☠️) but when they started dating, they started liking each others music. now when she’s in the car, avery tends to play jamesons playlists

• avery very much does not enjoy those events that alisa forces her to go to when her and jamie get in trouble, so jameson ends up being her hype man. he whispers chants in her ear, like “go avery! go avery! you can do this! go heiress!” so that she feels a bit better going (and so that she laughs bc jameson loves her laugh)

• her and jameson definitely did that “you better lock your phone” trend (the one where you scoop your partner up while running)

• they try the weirdest food combos when they get bored with max and xander, bc those two are weird food combo PROS.

• when they first started dating, avery tried to avoid pda. she would kind of avoid kissing him in front of his family ESPECIALLY his brothers because she felt awkward doing it at first. that was until she learned that they really didn’t care and now she’s fine with it

• i already said something like this in one of my other posts a while ago, but when jameson leaves his clothes in averys room and avery tells him, he always says “must be one of your other guys 😪😓😢”.

• because of this ⬆️, another awkward situation emerged at dinner:

• nan: “hey boy, what happened to that nice suit jacket i gave you for your birthday?”

• jameson: “oh, im not sure. maybe i left it in averys room?”

• avery: “oh yeah, you did. there are two on my dresser, so one should be it.”

• jameson, while smirking: “oh, i actually don’t think those are mine. must be one of your other guys that came over.” the table immediately goes quiet as the older residents of the hawthorne house shoot shocked and disgusted looks at avery. avery looks at him with a “really?” expression, and nash and xander, who knew what was going on, were dying laughing. even GRAYSON was smiling.

• jameson then goes into a deep explanation of the joke, and nan yells at him for putting that “poor girl” (avery) through that. he’s now banned from making jokes at the dinner table. 😪

• sometimes jameson sleep talks, and has like, ongoing convos with avery in his sleep. sometimes avery will lead it on bc she finds it funny, (he always asks her random stuff) but most times she just says “go to sleep, jamie” and he goes to sleep right away. (while making this i heard my dad snoring two rooms away 😔 HE IS SO LOUD!!)

• after nash proposed to libby, jameson made a joke before they went to sleep about proposing to avery, and she just laughed it off. but the next morning when she woke up and saw that he was still asleep, she whispered “i would love to get married to you someday” almost to herself, before kissing him on the forehead and snuggling into him. jameson never mentioned afterwards, but he heard what she said.

• avery actually loves the entire toy story saga and watched all the movies with jameson. they get some of libbys baked goods, tons of candy, and watch it. it used to be their alone time where they could snuggle up against each other and share kisses, but then by the time they were rewatching the second movie, xander found out that they watched those movies and busted in. now all the movie nights are jameson, avery….. and xander. ☠️

• avery wears his sweaters and jameson wears her necklaces

• on nights like mothers day, hannahs death date, or even fathers day they usually end the day with a movie while jameson distracts her by whispering sweet nothings in her ear and covering her with kisses 💗💗

• whenever they go to those fancy galas, they pass the time by looking at guests and creating “characters” for them. for example, jameson will look at a balding guy and say “he has bald spots because he was a lab rat for a mad scientist years ago, who used to zap his head with acids”. avery pretends to not like it but she actually does and laughs whenever he makes far fetched assumptions of the guests’ backstories.

• through out the grandest game, when they can’t sleep at night, they gossip about the contestants. yes, even AVERY does. they don’t ever say bad things about them and automatically assume the best, but they talk about tension/fueds between some. they talk about how it might play out, and sometimes jameson makes jokes about two of the contestants dating. yes, he would endlessly gossip about lyra and grayson. ☠️

——————————————————————————

[seonghwaddict]

★ NEVER SAY NEVER. [ 002 ] the pinkette.

synopsis. something about the eight most well-known boys of your campus just didn't sit right with you, so you never gave any effort to interact with them. but after a series of... interesting incidents, they can't seem to leave you alone. pairing. college students! vampires! ot8! ateez x fem! reader. genre. fluff, angst, eventual smut, college au, vampire au.

chapter warnings. innuendos if you squint, wooyoung is still a bit annoying but it's ok because it's wooyoung. word count. 1.9k

　　　　　　　　chapter i // chapter ii // chapter iii

The car ride to wherever Wooyoung and his seven friends lived felt a lot longer than it actually was. He talked the entire way there and if you weren't so polite—ignoring the fact you cursed him out multiple times already—you would have put on you headphones to drown him out.

Most of what he said was not worth replying to, but sometimes you caught yourself having actual conversations with him. The way he could talk to anyone without previously interacting with them surprised you a bit. And if you weren't so stubborn, you would have admitted it was a bit admirable, a skill you never really mastered.

On the bright side, you think, at least he let you take care of the music. He hadn't heard more than half the songs on your playlist and you felt it was your duty to introduce him to the most life-changing songs you've ever listened to. Sometimes he'd ask you something about a song, and you'd accidentally ramble on and on about anything related to it; the composition, the lyricism, the artist.

When you did that, he'd stare at you for however long he could any chance he got. He enjoyed listening to you talk, your voice soothing and free of any innuendos he'd normally receive when talking to anyone from campus. Your eyes practically glistened when he asked about a particular song that played (one titled "Reflections" if he remembered correctly) before you went off on another tangent about how the song makes you feel, arms and hands flailing around to emphasise your points.

At that point, he promised himself he would not get you to talk about music around Hongjoong, in fear that he'd never see you again. The musical composition major would probably propose to you on the spot.

"Oh! And also, the way they used–" You abruptly cut yourself off, looking down to pick at the cuticle of your thumb, confidence gone in the blink of an eye. "I– uh– Sorry. I'm rambling again."

Wooyoung slowed down before completely stopping at a red light. As soon as those words left your mouth, he shook his head in objection. "Don't be sorry. I like listening to you."

You looked up at him and upon finding no trace of deception or false reassurance on his stunning face, you nodded, dropping your hands in your lap. The man next to you felt an urge to grab ahold of one of them, but he knew you'd throw him out of his own car.

The tenseness in the air didn't last much longer as you noticed Wooyoung pull into a driveway leading up to the grandest mansion you'd ever seen. There seemed to be two floors, probably a third in the basement, and the walls were painted a clean white. The design of the house was quite modern, utilising geometric shapes and large, clear windows.

The lawn was neatly trimmed and the grass healthy. There wasn't much to see out front, but you assumed they'd prefer to use the privacy of a garden in the back.

At the sight of the residence, your jaw just about dropped and you whipped your head to the left, staring at the brown-eyed boy.

"This is where you live?"

He shrugged nonchalantly, but the smug smile stretched across his face told you everything you needed to know.

"Are you guys part of the mafia or something?"

He choked at that question, quickly denying it, but you only sighed in disappointment.

"That's too bad, maybe I'd have found you a bit cooler."

"Hey!" He pouted. "I'm very cool."

You tilted your head, unbuckling your seatbelt and getting ready to leave the car. "Hmm... I don't really think so..."

"Plenty of other people do." Wooyung got out of the car with you, still pouting at you over the roof of the vehicle as he moved to the trunk to pull out your bag. "You ought to as well."

"I don't know, Woo. I'm not really one to care what others think." You pouted back at him mockingly before your expression became confused. Upon your words, his pout turned into another mischievous grin. "What?"

"You just called me Woo," he sang playfully as he led you to the entrance. "Are we on nickname basis now?"

"What are you talking about? I clearly said Wooyoung."

He narrowed his eyes at you, shrugged, and then turned away from you to unlock the front door. "Either way, I like it when pretty girls say my name." And with that he entered the house and left you standing there, staring with wide eyes and blushing cheeks.

After you finally pulled yourself together and reminded yourself you didn't like him at all, you stepped inside. As you kicked off your shoes, your project partner instructed you to wait for a second while he informed whoever was home that they had company. You obliged, not wanting to see anything that would haunt you. What would that be? You didn't have an answer for yourself, but you'd rather not find yourself walking into the living room and seeing a half naked man.

As Wooyoung rounded the corner again, you had gotten up from where he put your bag, getting ready to follow him wherever he wanted to work with your sketchbook in hand.

"You're in luck, most of them are out and Seonghwa-hyung is almost done cooking." He led you to what you assumed must be the kitchen. "We can eat first and then start working."

You held back a gasp, but couldn't stop the amazed look on your face as you took in your surroundings. You shouldn't have been so surprised considering the fucking hallway was pretty, but the kitchen was absolutely divine.

It also took on a modern style, sleek white cabinets and counters surrounding the space. In the middle of the room was a kitchen island with a matching white marble surface, one side occupied by a large sink and the other with five barstools. But, most of all, it was so clean.

Not that you expected a house where eight men live together to be dirty and a mess, but you also kind of did. Yes, you were aware that they were all rich and could probably afford you and your entire bloodline, including a cleaner, but that thought never really crossed your mind.

As you continued observing the kitchen, your eyes landed on a man on the other side of the island, leaning against a counter with his arms crossed, watching you. His eyes scanned your body, assessing you before he lifted a hand and ran it through his pastel pink hair. Seemingly satisfied—though you're not sure of what—he nodded and smiled at you.

Wooyoung briefly introduced you to each other, though you already knew perfectly well who this was, and you weren't exactly happy to be in the same room as him. But, for obvious reasons, being rude to your project partner's best friend was not a very good first impression. And as much as you didn't really care about first impressions, you knew—and dreaded—that you'd had to come over quite often for this project.

A look of realisation crossed Seonghwa's features, his round eyes lighting up. "Ah, I know where I've seen you. You also take linguistics, right?"

You nodded to confirm that. He usually sat all the way in the back, though your professor encouraged him to move up front since he was such a good student. He always kind of intimidated you, but seeing him now, in sweatpants and a large sweater, hair blow-dried and fluffy; you wonder why you would ever think he's scary. Nevertheless, he's just like the others.

Wooyoung tilted his head in confusion and turned from where he sat at the counter to look at you. "I thought you're an art major?"

"I am," you took a seat next to him, leaving one barstool of space between you. "I'm double majoring in art and linguistics."

The man you answered hummed and turned to his older friend. "What are you making?"

"I didn't know we'd have a guest, so it's just bulgogi with rice noodles." He turned to address you, "Hope you don't mind."

"Oh, not at all! I could eat anything right now." Neither of the boys missed the way your eyes lit up at the mention of food.

The three of you continued to converse as Seonghwa prepared three plates for you to eat. He fished out some utensils from a drawer and set them in front of you, then him and Wooyoung.

"Oh, YN," Wooyoung said, sounding as if he suddenly remembered something, getting up and grabbing some cups from a cupboard. "Grab some drinks from the fridge, there should be plenty of options so choose whatever you want."

But as you moved to the fridge, Seonghwa quickly blocked your path with a slightly nervous sounding laugh. "No, that won't be needed!"

You tilted your head and blinked at him and Wooyoung could hear the way the elder's heart skipped a beat. Another nervous chuckle escaped his mouth before he explained, "We ran out of drinks yesterday, follow me to the pantry and I'll show you what options we do have."

"Uhhhh... okay...?" Though still confused and slightly suspicious of the way he was acting, you followed him to the other side of the kitchen. You thanked him as he held the door to the pantry open to you, but completely missed the chilling glare he sent Wooyoung.

Fourty-five minutes later, the three of you had finished eating. You offered to help wash the dishes, but the pinkette immediately shut you down and sent you and Wooyoung to work in the living room.

"Thank you for the food, it was really delicious. If I could cook, I'd ask you for the recipe." You smiled at him, placing yours and Wooyoung's plates next to the sink.

"Well," he started, bracing one hand on the cupboard next to you and leaning in slightly. "I could always teach you, if you'd like." His eyes briefly moved from yours to the area slightly below before he resumed eye contact.

And there it is. That's a shame. You thought you had misjudged him, but you supposed you were wrong.

At your expression, he burst out laughing (it was a very pretty, melodic laugh), standing up straight again and putting some distance between the two of you.

Maybe you weren't wrong...? At this point, you didn't know what to think of the man in front of you.

"I'm just kidding, Wooyoung already told me about your... feelings towards us. I just felt like messing with you a bit" He trailed off, smile stretching a bit further to reveal his perfect white teeth. "You're kind of cute when you're flustered, though."

Now that he mentioned it, you could feel the warmth on your face. As the realisation showed itself on your face, he laughed once more and rested his hand on your shoulder. He turned you and led you towards the living area, where you could already see Wooyoung making himself comfortable on the couch.

"I'll leave you guys to do your work now. I might join you once I finished cleaning, but I have a paper due tomorrow morning so don't wait for me."

"Hyung, you're not part of our project, why would we wait for you?" Wooyoung raised one of his disgustingly symmetrical brows.

With a shrug, he answered, "To balance out your annoyingness."

He didn't stick around to hear Wooyoung's whiny complaints, instead turning back to the kitchen with a loud laugh. The brunette rolled his eyes and patted the spot on the couch next to him.

"Now," he said once you sat, albeit with so much space between you three people could fit comfortably, "Where do we start?"

　　[ lilo's notes ... ] woohoo the next chapter!! i think i'll make the upload schedule fridays, so expect new chapters then. what do we think of the story so far? i'm so happy about all the positive comments i've been getting, thank you guys so much. whoever though seonghwa would be the one she'd like, is wrong... so any other guesses? i have a few ideas on what to do for that project, and i think it'll actually be quite cool. so please look forward to that ^^

　　ଘ(੭˃ᴗ˂)੭ taglist ... @atinytinaa @marievllr-abg @legohwas @moonsangie @kiss-hwa @cqndiedcherries @ateezourstars @r1kitti @sarahleighflora @kyukyustar @cqndiedcherries @ateezourstars @kitty4hwa @hyukssunflower @aestheticsluut @neohyxn @mrowwww @darkdayelixer @itsokaytobedumb00 @hwa-sans @purplelady85 @meginthebuilding27 @stopeatread @mothworked @foliea @euphoric-emily16 @teezers99 @mulletjoonsupremacy @imalildelulu @sunukissed @blehhhidk @ad0rechuu @seongfury

　　NEVER SAY NEVER　©　seonghwaddict, 2023

[senjusonlygirlfriend]

Bathtime conversations

𝑬𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒆 𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒂𝒎𝒔 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑪𝒘/𝑻𝒘: 𝒎𝒐𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒏 𝒂𝒖, 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇, 𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑

You sighed, as you walked into your shared appartment. Work at the office had been more grulling as yesterday, yet you were happy the day was over. As usal, your fiance was still working. She had started a job a week ago with the man that raised her up, Joel, at a new lumber company.

You would be lying if you said that you didn't go drop off her lunch sometimes just to see her lift some heavy wood. Slipping off your shoes and setting down your bag in its respective place, you made your way to the bathroom.

Deciding that you were gonna have a bath instead of a shower, you clogged the drain. As the bathtub started to fill you grabbed a new set of clothes and picked out a bath bomb that you knew would smell good. The basket was full thanks to Ellie's slight obsession with them.

Every time you would use one right after a bath she would always want force want to cuddle with you once she got home. It's not like you were irritated with it though, you could always work while she was sprawled on top of you. Playing your favorite playlist, you let out a sigh of relief as you slipped on your clothes and dipped into the bath.

The bath bomb fizzled as the water started to turn a nice pink pech shade, as the fizzling sound filled your ears. Your mind had drifted to Ellie, wondering if she would be working late again. For the past few days, she had to stay behind later than normal to help a few newbies trained and know what their job entailed. As you were in your thoughts, you missed the click from the front door.

Then, a soft knock sounded from the bathroom door.

"Can I come in?" Ellie asked.

You shouted back a yes as she entered the bathroom, her eyes scanned the room for a second. It was actually normal that the two of you had just walked in on each other like this, the both of you growing into that security in the relationship. You could tell she was tired as she sat down on the toliet seat.

Her shoulders were slightly hunched, and the eyebags were a little bit more prominent than normal. Well, something that was normal was her coming home later than normal. Maybe something happened at work?

"You ok? Normally you aren't home this late. But don't get me wrong, I love seeing you here!"

You rambled, as you intertwined your hands with each other. Ellie had shifted her attention from the spot she was looking at to you. She sighed, bringing your hand up to her lips to kiss it, despite it being wet.

"You used the peach bath bomb today?"

Ellie asked, a tired smile on her face She had looked more relaxed now at least, despite her still looking tired.

"Yeah. I needed one today, I swear the people at the office are going to put me on the ground or have wrinkles before I'm 30."

You ranted, using exaggerated hand movements to your point. As you continued to ramble, Ellie looked at you with a look of admiration. She had always loved these conversations with you, you talking while she listens.

"So, why are you here? Did something happen at work?"

She suddenly snapped back to reality, not realizing that she was spacing out while taking in your features. She turned her face away and puffed, as if a child would.

"Joel sent me home early because he thinks I'm, 'overworking myself' over training the newbies. He's also giving me tomorrow and Friday off, and I'll be so lonely without you."

Her expression had changed into a sad one, despite you detecting a hint of sarcasm in the last bit that she had said. She had also grabbed your hand that was dangling over the tub, playing with your fingers. Ellie continued to rant as she fiddled with the engagement ring that she had proposed with to you.

You remember it like it was yesterday. The both of you were on a vacation to [favorite country] just exploring the country there. Beforehand you didn't even know that she had saved up the money by getting another discrete job on the side + a little bit of Joel's help.

She had done it at sunrise, despite you being grumpy at the time due to getting woken up so early. She had guided you to a beautiful view, giddy with how it was going to turn out. When you had turned around and processed the situation, you had cried happy tears the whole time and the way back to the place you stayed.

The ring was simple, yet elegant in the perfect way.

"Do you wanna watch Spirited Away with me and get takeout?"

Ellie proceed what you said for a second before nodding, getting you a towel as she got up.

"I don't really mind what we eat, its up to you!"

You said, her nodding as she shut the door behind her. You knew, that you were going to have a comfortable, cozy evening with your favorite person in the whole world.

[romance-reanimated]

(Hello to my five followers. I’m veering off into another obsession today. Yeehaw.)

Nonsense Headcanons Objective Truths About Kunikida Doppo (from Bungo Stray Dogs)

Listen. These aren’t headcanons at all. He’s just like this. I’m sure you’ll agree.

He uses extremely fine point pens for notes-to-self, his favorite being his 0.25 mm nib blue Pentel Slicci.

At some point Kunikida was overworking himself to the point that Fukuzawa had to step in and encourage him to take up a hobby outside of work. Kunikida complied easily—he now spends a scheduled block of time playing Wikipedia Race, a game where you find the fewest hyperlinks needed to get from any one Wikipedia article to another.

Being a man of taste, his favorite Wikipedia article is “List of Non-Water Floods.”

He also greatly enjoys music—not listening to it, but organizing his mp3s into playlists. He has an alphabetical one, a chronological (by release date) one, and many more.

He reads a lot of health and self-help books, and follows their advice to the letter. Is that canon? I think that might be mentioned somewhere.

He likes fonts with serifs for Latin letters.

…He is madly in love with me, and just hasn’t admitted it yet. If only he could see how organized my desktop is, he’d propose on the spot…

[chris-hartley]

Happy Pride!

This prompt partially came to me from @samgiddings for our Total Drama OCs Skylar and Kai (aka Skai) and the prompts: Road Trip / Proposal! Hope you enjoy and for all fun little updates regarding these two, do check out our blog @teadocs hehe.

ALSO! This fic comes with a playlist to go with it :D Check it out here <3

(To hide these posts please blacklist #kenziewritespride)

“BABE,” Kai said excitedly, looking down at his phone.

Skylar looked up at him from where he’d been busy curating an Instagram post documenting the trip he and Kai had taken to the Zoboomafoo anniversary experience.

“Noah Kahan is going on tour!” Kai seemed excited as his eyes scanned the dates, and his face dropped, “But he’s not coming to Adelaide.”

“Who is Noah Kahan?” Sky looked at him confused.

Kai’s jaw dropped, “I can’t wait to introduce you to him. You’re gonna love his music.”

“O…kay?”

And sure enough, a few moments later, a twangy guitar came from Kai’s portable speaker, the guy’s vocals singing, “As you promised me that I was more than all the miles combined, you must’ve had yourself a change of heart like halfway through the drive.”

Skylar stopped Kai with a simple hand raised, “Wait. What’s this song called?”

“Stick Season,” Kai responded, confused, “Why? Do you know it?”

“No,” Skylar searched up the lyrics on his phone, “Lyrics. Can’t hear.”

“Do I need to turn it up?”

“Audio processing issues,” he shook his head.

Kai nodded, “Is that why you don’t listen to music that much?” Skylar shrugged but then waved his hand for Kai to restart the song and let it play once he had Genius lyrics pulled up in front of him.

“And I love Vermont, but it’s the season of the sticks. And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed. And it’s half my fault I just like to play the victim. I’ll drink alcohol ‘til my friends come home for Christmas.”

Skylar nodded along as the third chorus came on, finding the song rather catchy.

“Sooooo?”

“I like it,” Skylar smiled softly, “Do you wanna go see the show?”

“It’s in Melbourne… or Brisbane… Or Sydney.”

“And? We could take a little road trip to one of them.”

“Babe, that’s a minimum 8 hour drive to Melbourne.”

Skylar didn’t seem bothered, shrugging, “Then I guess we don’t have to.”

Kai nodded, looking downcast but accepting it wasn’t meant to be this time.

---

SKY: Come outside.

KAI: I’m about to leave for work.

SKY: I called in a favor. You’re off work this weekend.

KAI: What?

SKY: Just come outside. Please.

---

Kai came out from the apartment and spotted Skylar not in his work uniform (despite him supposed to be working too), standing in front of a van.

“Hi love. Get in and get changed,” Skylar opened up the van’s sliding door to reveal it was a converted van and there was a stylish outfit Kai had never seen on a hanger inside the van.

“What are we doing?”

“It’s a surprise. Get changed. Get in the passenger seat. We’re going on a trip.”

“A trip? To where?”

“It’s a surprise. Is that okay?”

Kai chuckled, his face lighting up, “More than okay. Let’s do it.”

Skylar got in the driver's side, plugging his phone to the aux and queueing up a playlist of every song Kai had shown Skylar in the 4 years they’d been dating. He’d been carefully compiling it, not sure why he’d ever need it, but then this impromptu road trip came to mind and it was a perfect time.

The first song that played was a Wallows song, “These Days”. Skylar nodded along to the music as Kai got in the passenger song.

“I need to know if you’re feeling it or I’m wasting my time. Your way or mine?” Kai sang along.

“You ready?”

Kai nodded, beaming, “Take us away, my love.”

---

First stop was Stirling, a meet 20 minutes from Adelaide, the two of them pulling up outside the Aldi.

“Snacks,” Skylar announced as they pulled up.

“I was hoping we weren’t dressing up to go to an Aldi,” Kai joked, getting out of the van and heading inside.

Skylar chuckled, taking Kai’s hand in his as they walked inside, grabbing snacks and drinks for the drive. Skylar let it slip they’d be driving for a while and to stock up on stuff for the ride.

They checked out, heading back to the van and getting in.

Skylar stuck his drink in the cup holder and smiled, starting up the music again. This time, a funky piano with Valley’s vocals came through the speakers, “I always thought I’d meet the one at a record shop or something fun.”

They pulled back onto the freeway and Skylar grinned as Kai looked out the window, shimmying as the chorus hit.

“Love,” Skylar chuckled, “You should probably take videos of this trip. To look back on.”

“Oh? Okay.” Kai took out his phone, recording the road and then the two of them.

“Oh shit, are we in love?” The singer’s voice said and Skylar mouthed the words, leading to a chuckle and a kiss on the cheek from Kai.

“We are,” he reassured the video before turning it off.

---

More song and more driving, seemingly in the middle of nowhere at this point, Kai asked again, “Where is it we’re going?”

“To Melbourne.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see,” Skylar said, keeping his mouth shut, motioning with a simple zip.

“Sky,” Kai chuckled.

Skylar pretended his lips were actually zipped shut and spoke muffledly.

“I love you.”

Sky unzipped his lips to say, “I love you too,” before zipping them again with a chuckle.

Kai got comfortable in his seat and drifted to sleep.

“You feel like city lights, apple pie baked just right. Home is wherever you are tonight.”

Skylar glanced over at him and sighed peacefully. He was reminded of a poetry book of Kai’s he read one time. Most of them were things he never felt so he didn’t understand them. But this one came to him again at this moment. And it finally made sense.

Driving the road in the middle of the night,

Not a car in sight,

My world asleep in the seat beside me.

It’s moments like this that make life worth living.

I take a picture, worth a thousand words I could not write.

Skylar wished he could take a picture of it, but he was okay that it would just exist in his mind forever.

---

The road sign Skylar was following said Melbourne. Kai stirred, rubbing his eyes, “Melbourne? Sky, love, why are we going to Melbourne?”

He shrugged, continuing to drive.

Sure enough, they went into the city, pulling up to The Forum. The sign outside said: “NOAH KAHAN” in big letters.

Kai’s eyes lit up, “WHAT?!”

“Surprise, love.”

“H- wh- Skylar!” Kai reached across the car once they were parked, hugging Skylar tightly.

Sky hugged him back with a grin, kissing his temple, “Is it a good surprise?”

“A great surprise. Thank you.”

“Good.”

---

Noah stood on the stage, introducing the song Everywhere, Everything and Skylar took a deep breath. He’d memorized every song from his discography and done research to find out which songs were played at the concerts every night.

“I wanna love you til we’re food for the worms to eat, til our fingers decompose, keep my hand in yours.”

Skylar took Kai’s hand, squeezing it. As Kai looked over at him, Skylar sank down onto one knee, a nervous smile on his face, “Surprise again?”

Kai gasped, “No way. SKYLAR!”

“Will you marry me?”

Kai’s eyes welled with tears as he nodded, “Yes. YES!”

The people surrounding them cheered as Skylar slid a ring onto Kai’s finger. He stood back up and kissed him happily.

The rest of the concert they were inseparable. And when they returned to Adelaide, everyone at the zoo congratulated them.

[swaller26]

PLAY ME A LOVE SONG

Kim Taehyung, a very famous DJ from Daegu, known as DJ V, is the source of all love songs for all kinds of people, from all walks of life. He used to be on the early morning show but when he turned 24, he moved at late night spot.

His nightly show where he talks to his listeners became very famous since people who were seeking love advice can sign up and be picked to be a caller of the night where Taehyung and his listener can talk about finding the solution for their heartaches, where they can + freely play their songs and listen to a sound love advice.

Not until Jeon Jeongguk became the caller, the source of Kim Taehyung's pain, the ex-boyfriend, the one who fell in love with Taehyung's bestfriend after breaking up with him. He proposed to Taehyung's best friend only+ to find out that Jeongguk was cheated upon the said bestfriend not just once but twice and now as DJ V listened to his ex-boyfriend's woes, was torn whether or not he would reach out or not.

Jeongguk became a regular listener, talking to DJ V about his failure in love but when+ Jeongguk told DJ V about his first love, Kim Taehyung, DJ V automatically put down the phone, not knowing what to do, saying that there were having technical difficulty.

But luckily, DJ V had to go on tour for his book launch about the different love stories he had heard. Both of them didn't know that fate had a plan for them.

Jeongguk is the PR Manager of the publishing house who published DJ V's book.

He was in charge of the promotions of his ex's book which make them interact a lot after a long time of talking to each other. Will they be able to rekindle the spark of their love?

Or will their love just fizzle out because the mistrust and the doubt? A/N

A prompt for now - inspiration from DJ V's guesting tonight.

Maybe I will write as a drabble. What do you think???

Love,

SW

TAGS

💿 Exes to Lovers 💿 T/W Cheating Not Taekook 💿 Pining/Slow Burn 💿 Angst/Comfort 💿 NSFW 🔞 💿 Bottom Tae/Top JK 💿 Flashbacks 💿 More TAGS to come 💿 OT7 friends/classmates/co-worker etc

FINAL PLAYLIST FOR PLAY ME A LOVE SONG https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7sWpLtgAqLeqsbTYlQjCdP?si=CPhsfh4VTcWtI_Pg5HOhRg&nd=1

[onlyseokmins]

Hello there sweetie, long time no see (read it in Shua's voice hehe)

I am just casualy listening my playlist when this song that I heard about million times already comes on (I just love it istg) and I suddenly think about Seventeen.. (ofc why not)

Like I have few members on my mind for some of these lyrics:

Think I only want one number in my phone

I might change your contact to "don't leave me alone"

You said you like my eyes and you like to make 'em roll

Treat me like a queen, now you got me feelin' thrown, oh

This screams CHOI SEUNGCHEOL (especially the last part)

I don't want no one else Baby, I'm in too deep Here's a lil' song I wrote It's about you and me

LEE JIHOON 🧎🏼‍♀️ I want to write a song about him fr

I'll be honest Lookin' at you got me thinkin' nonsense Cartwheels in my stomach when you walk in And when you got your arms around me Ooh, it feels so good I had to jump the octave I think I got an ex but I forgot him And I can't find my chill, I must have lost it I don't even know I'm talkin' nonsense I'm talkin', I'm talkin'

We all know that there is a man that owns this power and his name is KIM MINGYU (up until he trips in front of you 🤣🖤)

I am sorry I just really had to share 🤣

Have a very beautiful day 🖤

Henlo my loveliest (hahaha stop that's so endearing 😭) but omg nonsense is such a bop, Sabrina really went off on this one cuz it's soo catchy n I was just listening to it in the car the other day like uh huh nice fic material (like I need more ideas sjjsjsjs) but the way you're so right that svt suits it and how you've narrowed it down?

100% agree that is so cheol-coded GRRR he is literally the epitome of a heckin tease n flirt that acts like he's playing around a bit but really you're his only one and he'll prove it 😩

!!! We always talk abt producer, song writer woozi but what abt surprising jihoon w/ a song you've written!!! Man would prolly propose on the spot I'm Ngl 🫶🏼 if he wasn't whipped before, he is now and prolly only ever listens to that song forever more

Mingyu arms mingyu arms and Kim mingyu kim mingyu 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️ he's so def the type to comfort u w/ the best kind of teddy bear n protective hugs after a breakup and drive u crazy w/ all kinds of affection (esp physical) w/o ulterior motives and he would def trip 😭 😭 😭 😭 which is almost more endearing

[reyesstrand]

Hello Maddie! ao3 wrapped: 20, 27, 28, 29 and 30 :)

thank you so much lola!!! <3

20: which work of yours have you reread the most?

i tend to do one quick read through of my fics after they’ve been posted for a couple of hours to check for any errors—which is always when i find any grammatical issues ajdnskd—but after that i usually ignore my own fics. i think i’ve gone back to not a victory march the most, though, because there were some parts in there i was quite proud of and since it was a spec fic, i wanted to check back to see how i did after 3x08 aired aidnskdns

27: what do you listen to while writing?

it depends, but either movie scores (anything nicholas britell) or my tarlos playlist.

28: favourite work you wrote this year?

i’m just now realizing i only wrote and published four fics this year (though hopefully i’ll get something else up before the end of the year) and of those i think i’d go with (not afraid of) living on a fault line….i just was deep in the after-effects of the proposal, and it was one of the first times this year i just sat down and wrote and let it all kind of spill onto the page without much issue.

29: favourite line/passage you wrote this year?

from not a victory march:

She's always there for him, is the thing. Even when TK doesn't deserve her; when he was high and angry at the world and slurring together words he never meant but hurled at her anyways, she would stay and make sure he came down without choking on his own vomit and told him that she loved him. 

("Still?" TK had asked once, twenty years old and barely two days out of the hospital after the overdose that'd had his mom pouring over the websites of in- and out-of-state rehab centres for hours. He was sitting there with sweat dotting along his hairline as he tried to stomach a bowl of soup, legs swinging from the high stool at her kitchen island. "I don't know how you can keep forgiving me."

He'd stared down at the spoon submerged in broth, and his stomach turned. When she looked up, he glanced away, and trained his gaze on the photo of her and Enzo in front of the Eiffel Tower that'd been stuck to the fridge for a year and a half. When he looked back at his mom, he found her frowning, her eyebrows drawn together. It took half a second until she'd abandoned her laptop and wrapped her arms around him from behind, forcing his shoulders into a gentle sway that matched the rhythm of the song playing from her running playlist. 

"Yes, still," Gwyn replied, turning him around so he could face her. She looked at him like he'd grown two heads for even asking before her expression softened. "I'll always love you and forgive you. There's nothing in the world that could change that, honey.")

and how about a happier one from (not afraid of) living on a fault line akdnskd:

TK opens his eyes. A sliver a moonlight cuts delicately across Carlos' face and along the top of his shoulder, and it feels...holy, maybe, kind of like they're being reborn. He surges up to kiss him, feeling it finally sinking in that he really gets to have this—that they get to have this.

"Baby," TK murmurs, because nothing else feels right, as Carlos slots himself between TK's legs, scraping his teeth gently against that one spot on his neck before soothing it over with a kiss. TK bends his leg and presses his bare knee against Carlos' hip, keeping him in place. He almost gets lost in it, like he always does, it's just—he can't quite get a handle on the burning behind his eyes. 

"Hey," Carlos says, fingers stalling from where they're working their way under TK's shirt when the kiss suddenly turns salty, pushing himself up on his elbow. He stares imploringly down at TK, softly dragging his thumb under TK's eye. That's all it takes for TK to sniff and turn his head, sparing a moment to press a kiss to the inside of Carlos' wrist as a tear drips down the side of his face. "Baby, hey. You're going to get me going again, too." 

TK huffs a wet laugh and brings a hand up to cover his face the moment Carlos' eyes—his big, beautiful eyes—start shining with unshed tears. "Sorry, sorry, I—" 

"I get it, it's okay," Carlos says, carefully moving TK's hand out of the way so he can kiss his forehead. “It’s okay.” 

30: biggest surprise while writing this year?

how hard it is to write when you’re finishing school akdnskd. i think since my degree involved a pretty large paper, so much of my writing energy was zapped up once that was submitted. so while i’m getting back into things now (partially since i’m rewatching the show and falling back in love with the characters) it took a while for me to even want to look at a word document. i’ll say another surprise that gets me year after year is just…..the genuine support in comments/messages and the kind of friendship that can emerge from writing for a silly little firefighter show!!!

[semioticpenguin]

So love me like you do

For the past few years, as I slowly crept toward forty, I thought I had reconciled myself to being alone. I'd moved back home, out of the city where the gays congregate and back to the suburbs were the gays do not. I bought my childhood home, offered to take care of my parents, got a cat to help ease the loneliness, and for a while, I've felt... okay about it. Not thrilled, not happy, maybe not even content. 'Resigned' has too negative a connotation, but perhaps that's the word that fits best: I'd become resigned to my lot in life and to the future it promised.

But tonight I watched Red, White, and Royal Blue, a film based on a book from 2019 that I'd read and adored, and when the credits rolled, I felt... devastated. I sat in my recliner, my cat in my lap, and all those emotions I thought I had put behind me rushed to the surface: anger, despair, desperation, disbelief, jealousy, worthlessness, pain. So much pain. I turned off my Roku, got off the recliner, and went to pee. "This will pass," I thought to myself. "This too will pass."

But it didn't. It hasn't. My mood had curdled, and there is no going back. I've staved off the burning waves of a panic attack twice tonight, something I haven't had to do for over a decade. And now I still can't shake these terrible thoughts, most of which come attached to images from the movie (Alex and Henry on the hammock together or dancing slow in the museum or in bed after making love, Alex's arms wrapped around Henry like safety, like shelter, like home.): "You're going to die alone, unloved and unwanted." "You will never have that love, that affection, that physical touch." "It's too late for you -- there is no one -- you have no hope, you abandoned all hope when you entered here."

But this isn't even about the movie, which was fine. Yes, the man who played Alex is incredibly, painfully hot, and the one who played Henry vacillates so adorably between damaged (I'm a Taurus) and vulnerable that I'd probably propose to Nicholas Galitzine on the spot if I ever saw him, but I've seen romantic comedies before. I know what happens, what's going to happen. Hell, I watched the second season of Heartstopper last weekend, and I was fine! (To be fair, that also upset me, for different reasons that I will perhaps discuss in a later post, but it was a fleeting sort of sadness, nostalgia for a past I never had and never will. Not this echoing void where a contented present and a hopeful future should be.)

I don't know what happened. I don't know why I feel like this again, why it's started after so many years of numbness verging on acceptance. So now I've been listening to the Carpenters love songs all night, and I've moved on to my Sad playlist on Spotify. The song "Take Me Home" by Delta Goodrem kills me -- that desperation, that exhaustion, that need -- it fits me right now the way snow fits winter or ice fills a broken heart.

The only thing I can think to do to help is to write again. I miss my old LiveJournal, the community of perfect strangers I'd met there who read the incredibly detailed, often melodramatic daily posts I made about my insignificant, inconsequential life. I've tried journaling privately, but I never stick with it -- perhaps here, even if no one hears my cries, the hope that someone will will keep me going.

[jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka]

Eye of Adar - Part 3

Warnings: lgbtq+ characters, mentions of adult themes and relationships such as jealousy and anxiety. that’s about it for this part sorry

Summary: Unsure of where they stand with each other Prince Olyvar and Lord Harcourt struggle to find alone time together. In the midst of taking care of business for the Citadel a friend sets up an opportunity for them to resolve their misunderstandings.

As always you can get into the mood by listening to my playlist

Three nights passed since my birthday and the days drug along as they usually did.

“As you may know by now, Your Highness, the summer season is nearing its end. We have been preparing for the long winter by increasing scheduled imports and storing all unused grain and non perishables”. I could hear the Lord speaking, however, I was untimingly distracted by a certain knight entering in the far end of the room to pass a quiet message along to his superior.

Lord Harcourt had to have known I was in the meeting and just as he turned to leave he hesitated, his eyes searching the large room for my presence. Once I was spotted, obviously my attention fixed firmly on him, he took his leave while I was called to continue the discussion with the Lords.

“Do we predict these measures currently being taken to hold us through the long winter?” A second Lord was unabashed to question.

My attention peaked as I waited for the first Lord to assure us of his report. “As long as this winter is as predicted, we will last, comfortably or not”.

A few huffs were heard around the room, obviously not pleased with the uncertainty of the reply.

“And if this winter does not go ‘as predicted’ as many winters do then you say we will suffer it uncomfortably then?” The Lord who originally questioned spoke again turning his own words against him.

I leaned over to my Prince’s advisor Sir Lawrence to get the name of the bold Lord. I was directed he was called Lord Dustin of Cahir and he was known among the court for having a loose tongue and being a flirt. Despite his unfavorable reputation I liked him.

“What do you suggest we do to maintain your comfort then Lord Dustin?” He was called out in front of the other Lords which to some might be insulting but he merely shrugged his shoulders leaving the question to the rest of the room.

“Lord Odel you say the unused grain and non perishables are being stored away, what about the unused perishables?” I spoke up for the first time in the meeting causing all the Lords to turn their darting eyes to me.

“Your Highness” Lord Odel seemed to be taken aback by my sudden input. “My apologies but as you’ve pointed out the perishable food will not store until winter nor last much longer after it starts” he seemed embarrassed to have to state the obvious meaning of perishable to me.

“Yes, however the Denzi have been preserving their local produce for years. Last I’ve heard they are harvesting very well. If we give them the resources to conserve more then they will be willing to share with us if the time calls for it. Or perhaps we could invest in their crops in turn for our own share in the harvest. The Denzi can preserve their produce as well as ours unused”. I explained very clearly to the meeting that instead of spending money on costly imports we could be giving to the community and creating more jobs for our subjects.

Half of the room seemed to be in agreement with me while the other half remained to be unpersuaded by my proposal.

“Perhaps on this matter it would be wise to consult the King before we allocate any additional costs” Lord Odel pleaded with the room before I could continue to influence the rest of them. He was an old Lord and was nearly trapped in his habits, so used to the way things were done living off the luxury of his imports to which he was in charge of scheduling. Rather than risk his control on what was ordered and brought into the Citadel, he convinced others to shy away at exploring what the locals had to offer.

“My father has other matters he’s tending to at this time which is why he’s appointed me to lead this meeting” I reminded everyone right before whispered rumors peaked amongst the Lords about the more important ‘matters’ the King was handling. Amongst the most consistent of the rumors was a band of outlaws terrorizing trade routes, although it had yet to be confirmed.

“I will expect an update on our stores. In the meantime we will look into the costs of resources for preservation.” I concluded the meeting rather than continue to argue my position and most of the room was cleared shortly after.

I thought to myself it would be easy to visit the township to gather information on which produce was in season right now. I was sure there were certain foods that stored better than others, who better to discuss it with than the ones who were already doing the growing and preserving? I could even bring some samples back to the Citadel with me so they could be introduced fresh. After some thought though I did have to agree that I should get my father on board first. I let out a sigh because I knew some of these Lords were too caught up in their lives within the Citadel to even realize there was a whole other way of life out there among the indigenous of Adar. If I abruptly started making changes to their already delicate ways of living then there would likely be some backlash and the King would have to get involved anyways.

For a brief moment I found my thoughts wandering off. When I become king are these the kind of Lords I will entertain at my court? ‘When I become king’ wasn’t a thought that often passed through my mind so now that it had I might as well think it through carefully.

I admired my father and the way he ran the Citadel, but following directly in his footsteps was not something I had ever seen myself doing. I believed I could make changes, a little here and there at first, just until enough time had passed that my way of doing things felt like the new common.

I changed my course and decided instead to drop into the kitchen to see who was working today. Balen’s own mother worked in the kitchen of the Citadel and when we were alone together he would tell me about how she learned to prepare and cook all our chosen imported foods. I figured there might be a good start.

“Olyvar!” My friend Balen was excited and surprised to see me arriving in the kitchen while he was also visiting.

“Your Highness” his mother greeted me as well as reminding her son of my proper way to be addressed.

Throwing my shoulders up and smiling I invited her to hug me in place of being so formal. If we were in court or around other Lords I would have to play my part, but down here in the kitchen with the cooks, maids, and servants I didn’t feel the need to.

“What brings you here?” She sounded happy to see me while also slightly concerned why the Prince would show up unannounced.

“I’m actually here for some information” I explained to her what I had suggested at the meeting. For as long as Balen and I had been close friends I knew her so I felt comfortable revealing my idea without worrying who she might tell.

She agreed that it was worth trying to plan on working together both in and out of the Citadel to prepare enough food for the winter especially because her people were anticipating this winter to be Balalthal which roughly translates to mountains of snow.

As she was warning me about the farmers' likelihood to be toilsome about giving their crops to the Citadel until they determined we would be paying them fairly, she opened up about her late husband’s, Balens father’s, family who were actually farmers.

She agreed to set up a meeting for me with them although I hadn’t told her that the plan wasn’t exactly approved yet. With that detail still waiting to be sorted out, I made it a point that I would go out of my way to meet them outside the Citadel so as to not occupy too much of their time.

I thanked her again for her help in the matter then Balen and I left together.

“She will be nervous for the Prince to visit our home, if only she knew you have already come by before” Balen disclosed to me as we walked down the hallways together.

“If this goes well then I will be getting out on official business more often” I replied insinuating that he might be spending more time with me without me having to sneak out. Balen never seemed to be annoyed by my tagging along on their nights out. It’s not like I wasn’t able to leave the Citadel whenever I wanted to, but I would be required to bring security guards with me when I did. When I went out with Balen and his other Denzi friends it was because I wanted to get away for a while without anyone following me and potentially reporting back my activities.

“How is Lord Harcourt?” Balen asked from what seemed to be out of nowhere.

“Lord Harcourt?” My voice seemed to turn up at that question in a suspicious way. “Oh I’m not sure. Why do you ask?” I tried to play it off as nothing.

He gave me a sideways look like he was offended I was keeping something from him, a friend. “Don’t worry I always keep your secrets” he began to try and keep me calm before he continued. “I saw you and him the other night, at the club before you left. You were kissing”.

My face reddened and our steps slowed as I glanced around to make sure there wasn’t anyone within earshot of us. “I see” my voice trailed off and we came to a stop in the middle of the corridor.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, but I wanted you to know that I saw it”.

“I’m not upset, I just thought maybe you didn’t” There was a part of me that always thought he had seen anyways so I honestly wasn’t that surprised. I did trust him otherwise I would have taken action on that suspicion sooner. “To be honest, I haven’t really seen him since that night”.

He looked back at me with a little worry on his face. I’m sure every concern I’ve had before about this crush was flowing through his head.

Will he feel the same way about me? How will we keep others from finding out? How will he handle having to be kept a secret? What if others knew, what would they think?

“You see he got in trouble for missing the import the other morning, he was in the team assigned to help, so he’s been on double duties to make up for it”. Actually it felt relieving to be explaining my frustrations to someone instead of keeping them piled up inside.

“Surely you will get the chance to see him sooner than later” he offered some solace before trying to get some more details from me. “What will you say when you do see him again?”

I had been thinking about that for a while. Despite how large the Citadel was there were plenty of times we crossed paths, just like earlier today, but not enough chances for us to be alone together. There had been a couple of times I felt like I couldn’t wait any longer and I hunted him down, determined to corner him somewhere. Every time I tried he was always really busy and I’d psych myself out, telling myself he will come find me when he has the chance. Despite knowing the situation he was in, the more days that went by, the wearier I grew.

“At first I thought he might be avoiding me,” it was a valid concern after the questionable mood swings he was having that last morning we snuck back in together “but when I get the chance, I just want to know how far he’s willing to go even if I’m not comfortable with others knowing about us”.

“How far he’s willing to go?” Balen raised his eyes in a suggestive way like he wanted to know if I meant we would be a couple, or if it had some sexual meaning.

“What I mean is!” I quickly clarified myself to keep him from trying to pry the physical details out of me. “I’m not just looking to mess around, I actually like him a lot”.

He shook his head to signal he understood “It seems like the two of you do need to talk about it more, but if he is worthy of your affection then I think you should enjoy yourself”.

Enjoying ourselves sounded like the easy part, it was finding the opportunities to be together that was the problem at the moment. On normal occasions after a meeting like I had today I would take a break and find out from Sir Lawrence where Lord Harcourt was stationed. I’d asked my advisor to keep tabs on a few of the guards to make it look like I took an interest in the organization of our guards, but in reality I just used the information as a means to pursue Lord Harcourt.

From the beginning Lord Harcourt had always been friendly with me, in fact he was friendly and well liked by almost everybody, especially the Ladies. There was a time when I thought I hated him for that. Being handsome and charismatic all while remaining professional and not getting caught up in the frivolous lifestyles of the Lords and Ladies like some other guards and commanders did. It wasn’t until after I spent some time with him that I accepted my feelings I had towards him weren’t exactly jealousy, they were attraction.

Our steps slowly started back up, I’d realized I expected Balen to be headed somewhere in the same direction as me and would break away on his own task soon. However, when he continued to stride alongside me I decided to ask what he was up to. “Do you think you could accompany me to see my father? I’d feel much better if you were there”.

“Of course!” He replied like he had already expected me to ask and that was why he was following me.

I felt like our conversation wasn’t quite over. Now that I’d revealed my true feelings to my friend I felt like a tap that had been left open, my emotions were dripping out and I wanted to spill it all out to him until I ran dry. Now, like many other things I was too impatient for, just wasn’t the time. As we nearly reached my father’s study I tried to push back my thoughts on Lord Harcourt and refocus on the mission at hand.

“My son! What can I do for you?” My father stood up from his desk and came across the room to meet me, he also nodded in Balen’s direction to acknowledge his presence too. “Come sit” he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and carried me back across the room until I reached a large chair positioned across the desk from his place. Balen stood behind me and I began to explain to him what our plan was.

He sat in silence and listened to me intently. He was always a great listener which was one reason why his subjects adored him so much. He had his hands clasped in front of his mouth, his elbows perched up on the desk, and his deep blue eyes watched me in a way that I knew he was taking me seriously. When I finished the proposal he unclasped his hands and sat back in his chair, changing his position to cross his legs while he took that moment to compile his thoughts.

“I’m glad you are taking this initiative,” he began, “I can see that you feel strongly towards ensuring this is captained by yourself. Which I agree if this is your wish then you should see it through”. His praise was reassuring, but I was a little concerned that he was turning this more into a lesson rather than believing it will work. “I suspect you know some might not be so accepting of changing the way we do things”.

“We don’t have to change a thing, but we do need to be prepared with more. The Denzi suspect this winter will be a rough one and even if that’s just a suspicion we should rather be over prepared than the opposite”. I left out the fact that it was Balen���s mother we got the predictive information on or that it was his family I’d be speaking with first.

“Don’t be naive” he stopped me for a moment to lecture me. It felt like a lecture only because he did this every time, he always went above and beyond to prepare me for taking over one day. “Lord Odel would much rather see we spend more money to order more supplies. The more goods we are importing the more money he’s making”. I was glad to see that my father came to the same conclusion about Lord Odel as I had. That was another remarkable thing about him, despite it being him that appointed these Lords to their positions, he still wasn’t blind to their intentions. “Nonetheless, I want to see how far you can take this”. He sat back up and motioned over for his secretary to come over. “Tell Captain Fletcher to prepare a small team to escort the Prince into the town”.

“If I may Your Majesty” Balen spoke up while my father was caught off guard speaking to his secretary. When he had his attention he continued “Might I suggest Captain Cassian get the team prepared? He did so well managing the last import, I’m sure the Prince will feel most comfortable with guards from his officers”.

My father turned back to his secretary to correct the request for Captain Cassian instead. I quickly glanced over at Balen in disbelief but also amazement by his cunningness.

We were excused along with the secretary and Balen encouraged me to sneak behind him as he went to the Captains’ office to speak with Captain Cassian.

We hid behind a corner as the secretary knocked on the door to the Captains’ Office and was let inside. Only a few moments passed before he came back out and continued along his way after successfully delivering his message.

“Wait right outside the door” Balen instructed me as he also approached the office. He casually entered like he had some business as well and I could hear through the door Captain Cassian complaining.

“I’ve got guards on nearly every post since they sent Captain Memmott and his officers away on some “classified” mission. Now they want me to spare some to walk around that pissant town with the Prince?”

I was appalled to hear the Captain so blatantly speaking ill about a request from the King, but then again from Lord Harcourt’s account his Captain often had an attitude. He often described him as ‘a man who felt the need to hear himself talk over others’ and now I could see the picture.

“The Prince has asked me to come along as well”. I heard Balen speaking now, “He says he has many errands to run, don’t you have any officers who deserve some extra work?” He questioned suggestively.

Captain Cassian laughed, somehow finding thinking about it that way to be amusing instead of complaining more. “When you put it that way I have just the people in mind”.

The Captains continued to talk amongst each other while Balen returned with a smile cracked on his face.

“How much do you want to bet your Lord Harcourt will be assigned some extra duties again?” He joked while we both hurried away. Balen loved playing with me this way. He was always “let’s make a bet” when it came to determining which of us knew how to work the system better. I had to admit that Balen was usually the winner but he only took joy in the bragging rights.

“Thank you for pulling that off for me” again I was finding myself glad that I had someone like him to call a friend.

“I’m just trying to look out for you” he shrugged his shoulders like it was just another day at work for him, which it was, but it always felt more personal than that. When it came time to assign me an advisor for court I knew Balen could handle the role. However, a Denzi hadn’t been assigned that high a role in court before. Although I appreciated all Sir Lawrence did for me, I could tell Balen was hiding his dejection behind a smile. Instead Balen was given a management position over the staff and he accepted that with pride.

“I will see you tomorrow then?” He waved to me as he finally carried on with the rest of his business, leaving me to my own thoughts again.

I wonder what Lord Harcourt will think when he’s given this assignment? Will he be excited to leave the Citadel with me again? I knew that this time would be very different than when we snuck out together. This time we would both be on official business and I would have to keep my proposal a priority, but I hoped this was the opportunity I was waiting for.

The rest of the night, like many nights before, my mind ran through possible scenarios and the conversation we needed to have. I tried to imagine every response Lord Harcourt might realistically or unrealistically give me to prepare myself. To try and ease my nerves I went over to my wardrobe and picked out an outfit for tomorrow. That managed to distract me for a while as I tried to put something together that said “Prince” but wasn’t too formal or show off.

When I decided enough was enough I forced myself to go to bed early, hoping that maybe I’d get lucky and have a good dream to hold myself over another night.

The next morning I was up all too early, anxiety filled my stomach faster than my breakfast could so I skipped that after just a few bites and got dressed in what I’d set out the night before.

I tried to take my time as I walked through the Citadel to where Balen and I had agreed we would meet, but I still arrived quite a while before he did.

I tried to not show my friend how nervous I was when we waited a moment longer after his appearance for the guards Captain Cassian picked to accompany us arrived as well.

Of course he still picked up on my energy and suggested I come and sit in a chair facing him that way when the guards arrived he would see who they were first.

“How’s the Queen?” He started small talk with me which he knew I hated but also knew I was too polite to ignore him.

“My mothers doing fine, thank you for asking” I replied with a little more sourness in my tone than I’d expected. When I heard it I gave myself a mental kick for acting childish and tried to remind myself what the real importance for this trip was. While I was doing so I also heard footsteps approaching from behind. My eyes quickly flew up to watch Balen’s expression.

“Your highness” one male’s voice began as soon as the footsteps stopped. My heart dropped a little because it wasn’t the familiar one I was looking for, but my friend smiled and nodded at our companions before glancing down at me and raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“Your highness” Lord Alessi Harcourt greeted me as well after I turned around to see exactly who was finally here to accompany us.

He was standing a few paces behind his fellow guard, whom you could tell wasn’t the most thrilled to be here. Lord Harcourt on the other hand had a smile on his face that suddenly sent a wave of calming emotions through me like a dose of sweet medicine.

“Well now that we’re all here we should get going, they are expecting the Prince” Balen spoke up while Lord Harcourt and I remained fixed on each other. I stood up from my chair and thanked them both for coming even if they didn’t exactly volunteer for the job. Surely they hadn’t been told what the meeting was about, so they didn’t know what to expect other than we were leaving the Citadel and that meant guards were required to ensure the protection of the royal family.

As we crossed the busy courtyard to the Gatehouse Balen had a vehicle waiting for us to take us. We drove through the town and to the far edge where his uncles, I presumed, had a large plot of land that they farmed and stored before taking their crops to sell in the town market.

When we arrived I first noticed there were three large warehouses all clustered together but each facing a different direction. Each of the three warehouses also faced a plot of land that had various crops growing on them. The one to the left was the largest with an attached silo and it faced what looked to be some sort of grain mixed with tall stalks for corn. The one on the right had the smallest piece of land but the most colorful mixture of leaves and produce, and the one in the middle was the smallest building but behind it was rows and rows of beautiful flowers.

“I didn’t know your family grew flowers as well!” I exclaimed, not realizing I’d just revealed the men we were meeting were in relation to Balen. The other guard didn’t seem to notice, or pay much attention to what we were saying when we met with Balen’s uncles and exchanged greetings. Lord Harcourt, however, did break character for a moment knowing the more personal relationship Balen and I had, and glanced over at him in surprise.

“This is Greg” my friend motioned to the uncle on the right, “and Matteo” the other man on the left. I noticed quickly that not only were they brothers, but twins. They both shook my hand and thanked us all for coming all the way out here.

After our formal meeting the men invited me into the smaller one of the warehouses where they said they kept most of their inventory logs and worked on managing their property and crops.

We got right down to business as they had already been briefed on the matter at hand. They showed me in their hand-bound logs where although they had produced at consistent levels, their demand levels depended entirely on what they were able to sell in the nearby town. As far as crop types went, grain was almost always overproduced, they went into some detail with me about farming processes and soil compatibility but to be honest it was a lot for me to take in all at once so I just tried to keep up where I could.

“If you’re telling me that your grains and corn is what you have an abundance in then I’d be happy to help increase your profit margins by purchasing some, however, the Citadel currently has plenty of nonperishables stored. What we were really looking to invest in was the preservation of the other perishable crops”. I explained for clarification.

“In the past we were able to store some fruits and vegetables in glass, but the problem now is we do not have enough plots to grow those crops and meet our demands. Sales have gone down now that the summer is nearing its end, but mid winter when people are tired of the winter crops we will have a surge in demand and if we don’t restrict our output then we will deplete our supply too quickly.” They showed me some paperwork from previous years where they sold during the winter, only allowing 10 jars of product to be sold at each market and it also looked like an up charge was placed on them compared to selling the fresh ones in the summer. I started to worry that demand between the Denzi and the Citadel could not be met by just Balen’s family's farm alone. I flipped through the pages and examined each season's production scales and when I went further and further back I noticed there was a steep decline from previous years to current.

“If you don’t mind me pointing this out,” I turned the book towards Balen to show him where I was asking about “here it says you overproduced and stored more than enough to last through the winter, there were hardly any caps in market release, but by the next two seasons a cap was instilled. What caused such a decrease?”

“Your Highness, it’s because a third of our plots were commissioned by the Citadel to grow those flowers.” When I heard this I looked over at Balen for assurance, he shook his head to notify me that it was true. “The Citadel used to import flowers, like it does most things, but the flowers were too delicate to withstand delayed shipping and don’t last as long after they’ve arrived. Instead the Lord Chamberlain of Household commissioned a third of the land be used to grow flowers for the Citadel”.

I was a little astonished that these men had already made an agreement before to grow crops for the Citadel and I was only just now being made aware of it, and flowers of all things. “You’re telling me that since you’ve started growing flowers for us then you’ve had to sell less produce?”

The two brothers looked over at each other like they were also shocked the prince was unaware of their business deal. They turned back to me and shook their heads yes. “The Citadel pays us upfront for the land, it’s still our land by title, but they own the right to control what we plant. We use the money to fund our upfront costs so we don’t have to overdraft between harvest and sale of our crops”.

I began to understand why they took the deal with the Lord Chamberlain, but I stopped to think how I could offer them a better deal instead. “Do you know any other farmers that will be willing to work with us as well?” I asked knowing whatever deal I made here with them would become a settling ground for any other deals to come.

Balen spoke up for them to reply to this question. “Our reputation precedes us with the community here. If they agree to work with you then others will follow”.

“Great, then I propose you take half of the land you’ve been growing flowers for the Citadel and start planting more produce. Will you have time to cultivate and plant before the growing season is over?”

One of the uncles folded his hands across his chest and turned towards the other, they discussed it for a minute then got back to me. “If we plant by the end of the month then we should be ok, but we will have to work double shifts to get it done in time”.

“The Citadel will pay you twice what they have in the past for your land and can bring in extra hands for help. As for the other farmers,” I turned towards Balen who had done so much to help me the past couple of days “I ask that you head a collaboration with them to see what their produce production looks like. The Citadel will pay them 10% now of what their crops sell for during the winter, up to a third of their production. Once it’s preserved and delivered to the pantry we will give them the rest”.

“Only up to a third?” He questioned the offer so he could be sure he understood my meaning behind it before he started to broker for me.

“I don’t want them trying to pre-sell everything they have to us. It’s like your uncles said earlier, the people here will want to buy as well. They can’t purchase their food upfront like we can and I won’t take away their market”.

Now that they understood where I was coming from they agreed. I was able to shake hands on their end of the deal and entrusted my friend to continue my will with the other farmers they knew.

“Let me know if there are any supplies you need in the meantime”. I let them know that although Balen would be seeing a great deal into the logistics of it all I still wanted to work closely with them as well.

“Now I understand you wanted to sample some of our produce,” Matteo commented when the deal was complete. I could see Balen standing behind him giving me a thumbs up, once again pulling strings for me.

“I’d love to” I replied and walked with him towards the entrance of the warehouse.

His other uncle Greg broke off from us then he and Balen approached the additional guard that was with us.

“Come!” Greg told the guard, “I will show you which plots we will start growing your produce on”.

The guard looked surprised and confused about being asked to go with him.

“Don’t worry the prince will still be guarded” Balen assured him and nodded his head towards Lord Harcourt following me out of the warehouse.

I glanced behind and watched as our groups split up, the three of them off to the field in front of us and the three of us to the warehouse on the right.

“In here is where we process the produce and prepare it to be taken for sale”.

I stepped inside and was amazed by the rows and rows of crates filled with all sorts of fruits and vegetables. Some I was used to seeing sold on the streets of the town, and some I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen before. He guided us towards a specific crate piled full of brightly colored berries. “These were Balen’s favorite as a child” he plucked a few and handed them to me to try.

I gladly received them and was pleasantly surprised by their tartness. I’d had Balen pegged as the kid who preferred sweet over bitter or sour, but the juiciness and consistency was unlike any berry I’d ever had before.

Just like the mere mention of his name had summoned him, Balen poked his head into the warehouse we were now occupying and waved his uncle over, speaking to him briefing before his uncle turned back to us.

“Taste whatever you like You Highness, I’ll be back in a short while seems they need some help” he chuckled at the notion that his brother and his nephew couldn’t handle a simple task as showing a guard around the fields, but even from this being our only meeting I could tell the dynamic between the two brothers running this farm was heavily reliant on each other which only made each other their strongest assets. I also had an inclination that Balen had his hand in calling his second uncle away now leaving Lord Harcourt and I alone together for the first time in days.

“You should try these, they're delicious” I extended my palm which was still full of berries to him. I had no idea how long we would have alone together, yet I couldn’t bring myself to spring my inner most troubled thoughts onto him all of a sudden. Instead I settled with awkward small talk to test the waters.

“I believe these are the pears you enjoy” he nodded over to another crate a few steps ahead of us and I turned to see I recognized the fruit. It was the same pears I’d bought from the street market the last morning he and I spent together.

I tried to hide my smile, but I was excited that he remembered such a minor detail. Maybe he had been thinking about that time just as much as I had. Maybe he also dreamed about that night as I did.

“You enjoy fresh produce?” I continued the little inconsequential questioning as I strolled through the warehouse examining all the rows of colorful eatery before me. I tried to recall the few times we had eaten together, but everytime I seemed to be more observant of his mannerisms and his features rather than what was on his plate.

“I do,” he replied, following me just close enough that I could feel his presence but far enough he could take a quick step back as soon as the others returned. “My favorite from home was peaches”.

“Peaches you say?” I repeated to notify him that I was listening to his responses, but in reality my mind was running around in circles with the mere thought of him brushing against me when he let himself get too close.

Finally I stopped in my tracks and he stepped right behind me. The only thing that could make it through the space between us was the slight breeze that also squeezed itself past the slats that covered the windows of the warehouse.

“I’ve missed you” he finally whispered. “I’ve been busy, are you mad at me?”

“You said you would be” I answered, puzzled about why he would possibly think I was mad at him.

“It’s just every time I did see you, it felt tense. I was worried you were mad at me for not giving you more attention. Or I thought you were having second thoughts” he elaborated.

“No!” I quickly denied his assumption with a little more vigor than was necessary. “I felt guilty for being the cause of your extra assignments. Every time I tried to find you to talk you were busy and I didn’t want to stress you out or make you think I was clingy”.

“Clingy?” he chuckled like it was an adjective he’d never use to describe how he thought of me. He lifted his arms and placed his hands on both of my shoulders, running them down the length of my arms against the thick fabric of my overcoat until he finally reached bare skin. He took my hands in his and I took a step back, sinking my body into his. I sighed with relief at the simple contact and with the hope his tender touch brought me.

“It seems like we’ve somehow misunderstood each other” he spoke again after we’d both taken our moment to enjoy our current closeness.

I suddenly had an urgent need to face him, so I swung around and wrapped my arms tightly around his waist, burying my face into the space between his jaw and shoulder.

“Let me go first” he matched my gesture by placing a hand on the small of my back and squeezing me closer to him. “I very much enjoyed the night we spent together, and I’d like to see you again if you will have me”.

“Yes!” Again with the overly excited responses. “I mean I want to see you again as well. I want to see you often” all the time I thought but kept that to myself “when we return will you come by my room?”

“Surely Captain Cassian will return me to post watch when we get back. When I get the chance I will come to you”. He accepted my invitation while assuring me his schedule would be back to normal soon.

I lifted my head from its resting position and peered past his shoulder to double check we were still alone before attempting to steal a kiss.

I only meant to seal our date with a peck, but when I tried to pull away he tightened his grip on my back and cupped the side of my face with his free hand keeping me locked in position just a moment longer to receive a proper kiss.

As he kissed me back my knees felt weak, the skin he touched burned red hot with flush, my heart thumped so hard in my chest I could hear it in my head clouding all thoughts of restraint and responsibly I knew I should possess in this moment. I’d never had this strong of a reaction to anyone before. It not only excited me but worried me wondering how long he would have this hold over my entire being. Prince Eliam Giri Olyvar of House Deumontèmeir belonged to his people as eldest heir to his fathers crown, but Olyvar, just Olyvar, belonged to Lord Harcourt.

When he loosened his grip and released me I finally came to my senses. I had to take a step back to balance myself and regain my guise knowing full well the others could return at any moment, and they did.

We heard Balen’s uncles booming in laughter as they neared us again. “Your Highness I hope you don’t mind” were the first words spoken on their arrival.

Yes I do mind my innermost selfish desires were still clawing their way forward. I pushed them back down and tried to focus on what they were saying now. I zoned back in on the middle of the conversation.

My guard was holding a bouquet of flowers picked fresh from the field. “For his girlfriend” they all snickered and Greg even slapped a hand onto his shoulder. It looked like although the point was to get them together and leave us alone, they still managed to have a good time.

“Shall we continue with today's plans?” Balen suggested but I knew he was also questioning if he’d given us enough time to have the talk he knew we needed.

“Yes please. Thank you” I replied, emphasizing those last words although only he and I knew the true meaning behind my sincerity.

The rest of the afternoon flew by with ease. We all enjoyed a meal at Balens house. His mother was indeed nervous to be hosting us all, but I could also tell she was extremely proud watching her son discuss business plans with me and his uncles. Lord Harcourt and the other guard were also enjoying themselves, deciding that this assignment was actually a lot easier than the others they had been subject to recently. I stopped for a brief moment to wonder what his fellow officer had done to place himself in the same position as Lord Harcourt. Knowing Captain Cassian as I did now, it could have been any number of things that put him on his shit list.

Lord Harcourt caught me staring at them, entangled up in my own thoughts. While everyone was busy talking and eating he approached me.

“Would you excuse the Prince, I have a message from the Citadel I need to discuss with him”.

“Probably the King checking in” I overhead Balen assuring his family as we quietly stepped away.

“What is it-” I attempted to ask him as soon as we were alone once again. He cut me off with his lips suddenly against mine. Without skipping a beat my hand shot up his chest, wrapping around the nape of his neck so my fingers could pull at the ends of his hair.

His kisses moved down from my lips to each cheek and all across my neck, he stopped between each kiss to whisper to me.

“You seem to know your way around here”, “Balen’s family feels very comfortable around you”, “Balen feels very comfortable around you”.

I moved my hands to his chest and pushed him back a few inches so I could see him. “Wait. Are you jealous?”

He avoided eye contact with me before trying to silence me with another kiss.

“No, seriously” I stopped him again, the little bit of joking tone I had a moment ago fading away. “Are you jealous of Balen?”

“I’m just noticing you two are very close”. He took a step back realizing his actions right now were a little inappropriate.

“He is my best friend” I sighed, reminding myself that I too had acted out of jealousy towards him before as well. I remembered how I felt at my birthday celebration when he was being a little too friendly with the service maid. I knew I didn’t have to explain myself to him, but I also wanted us to start whatever it was we were getting ourselves into on the right foot with no more misunderstandings. “He has been there for me when I needed him”. I debated on telling him this next bit, “he’s the one behind getting you assigned to guarding us today. My father wanted to send officers from another Captain’s unit but Balen changed his mind”.

“So if he is behind it, then he knows about us?” He put the two together. He didn’t sound upset that someone else knew which was relieving, but I still wanted to keep the two of us a secret from others I didn’t trust like I did my best friend.

“He saw us at the club that night”.

“I see, and he set us up today? In the warehouse earlier?” He continued to ensure he understood. I nodded my head yes. “That means he approves of me then?” He cracked a smile now that the air was cleared and the jealousy began to subside.

“I wouldn’t say he approves of you just yet” I smiled back but wanted to make sure he still felt he had something to prove, “I think he just wants to see me happy. Being with you, spending time with you makes me happy”.

He took my hand and his smile widened “I’m glad to hear it”.

“Come on let’s go back” I didn’t want them to come looking for us if we were gone too long so I knew we had to put a pin in this conversation. Still, I made a mental tab on it so we could wrap it up later.

He followed me back into the room with everyone else and I continued to visit with them before we left to go see the market. There I bought a variety of fruits and vegetables to take back with us. We walked up and down the streets and I greeted each of the shop owners we purchased from. It felt nice to be out in the town and not trying to disguise who I was but still enjoy myself.

Later that night I sat at the desk in my bedchamber going over once more the contract I’d made before I took it to show my father in the morning. While recalling the events of the day I played the moments with Lord Harcourt over and over again in my head.

I’ve missed you. I’d like to see you again

My heart thumped again at the sound of his words in my memory. Although today's meetings made me feel better about us being together, I was still impatient. I wanted to see him now but I knew it would be impossible, since he was away all day he had a lot to catch up on when we got back. Instead I planned the next time we would be together, calling for a room servant to come see me.

“Your Highness” the steward approached me when he got the call.

“I need a favor, get Sir Lawrence to request an order for me on our next import”.

“Of course, do you have a list?”.

“No, just tell him I want some peaches”.

Authors Notes

Ok so this took like forever to write since it’s mostly filler. I have a large chunk of the next part already written since I was excited to write it 😏 which meant I kept skipping over these parts and having to go back. I hope it’s not boring and all makes sense. Thank you for reading and if you have any comments or suggestions I’m always open. Likes are just as appreciated ❤️

Also 🍑🍑🍑

[brokebonewritings]

Romancing Under the Moon

Steven Grant x Reader

Warning/Tags: 18+, Fluff

Summary: Steven Grant calls and falls for the Diamond of the Season.

Word Count: 3.3K

Masterlist

A/n: I'm trying to come up with a playlist on Spotify so you have something to listen to during the Ball sequences. If you have any suggestions please don't hesitate to send them to my ask inbox!

Dearest Readers,

It has come to my attention that a flame has been set ablaze. Mister Steven Grant may have begun his courtship with our beloved diamond! How exhilarating this romance must seem, however to the other suitors this will be a very sad moment. It seems that this match, in which I predicted to be the very best, has been the gossip of almost every household in London. May we be seeing the bloom of a beautiful proposal, or the raging of a fire that will be sadly blown out by a storm? The answer, dear reader, may surprise you. My watchful eye has been and will always be trained to spot each rise and downfall. That being said, I will continue to watch this romance and update you with the latest thread.

Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers,

1 April, 1815

“Ugh, that woman makes me want to tear my hair out!” You hear your mother say as she sets the paper on the table in front of her.

“What do you mean, Mama?” You hear your older sister say. Looking up from your tea you see your mother waving the paper around.

“This Whistledown woman is exasperating! She either loves this match or she doesn’t! She must make up her mind.” Hearing this comment makes you stand up immediately. Doing so makes everyone in the room turn in your direction.

“I- I must be getting ready. I do believe Mr. Grant said he would call on me around noon.” You turn and leave the room. Once you turned the corner of the hall, you backed against the wall taking a deep breath.

You couldn’t believe that this was finally happening. All thanks to your brother officially introducing him to you. The butterflies you felt in your stomach were very much real. However, you could only hope that he would court you properly.

Making it to your room finally, your lady maid, Emma, helped you pick out a very pretty lavender dress. Your hair was done in curls and pinned up to the latest fashion. When you were fully ready, you had to do the hardest thing of all. Wait.

Not that you were an impatient girl, just that you were too excited for Mr. Grant to call on you. Dancing with him at the Masquerade had been a highlight for, and you didn’t want to dance with anyone else after.

You walked back down to the parlor room to show your mother the dress you and Emma had picked out for Steven’s call. She looked absolutely delighted when you did a full turn.

“Oh blessed, You truly are the Diamond of the Season.” She raved. “Look how beautiful you are.”

“I truly cannot wait another minute, mama.” You said.

“Patience, y/n, He shall be here soon.” She glanced at the clock on the fireplace mantel. “Your brother shall also be here any minute to chaperone you both.”

You blushed lightly, the rose dusting on your cheeks only enhanced this. This was actually about to happen. You really couldn’t believe it. Sitting down, you waited quietly until your brother came and gave you a talk of what was about to happen.

On the other side of town, Steven paced his office in nervousness. He had never courted a woman before, let alone talked to the most beautiful person he has seen in his life. 

Would you stop with the pacing for five minutes? It was Marc, and he sounded very annoyed.

“I just don’t think I can do this” He quivered. “Why did you get me into this mess?” 

Because you need to find a wife before we die alone. Marc spat. Or would you rather we never find love?

Steven shook his head. Of course he didn’t want to die alone, without any kids or family of his own.

“What if she doesn’t take the news of all of us well though?” Steven looked in the mirror. He could see Marc’s reflection looking back at him. It wasn’t his usual hard look. Steven could tell he was deep in thought.

He took a look at the golden plate sitting on the shelf and saw Jake staring back at him.

How about we take turns courting her, hermano? Jake stated. This made Steven perk up a bit. That could actually work, and Jake never really stepped in unless both he and Marc were having trouble with their thoughts.

Looking back at the plate, Steven saw Marc shrug and nod his head.

“Yeah alright, then, that sounds like it could actually work!” Steven said excitedly. “I could go first and Marc could give it a go, and Jake can if he really feels like it!”

Steven. The time. Marc got his attention.

Steven looked at his pocket watch and realized he needed to get going. He took a deep breath, and left his office. He alerted the staff that he was going out and he would be back later that evening.

As he approached the Bennette residence, he could feel the pit of his stomach be set ablaze by the pure excitement of finally courting y/n.

Once the carriage stopped, he stepped out into the crisp spring air, and made his way towards the door. Stopping to take a deep breath, he knocked three times and waited for the butler to answer. 

The door opened and there stood a stout older gentleman awaiting his arrival.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Grant. I believe Lady y/n and Lord Bennette have been expecting you.” The old man stepped aside to let Steven in.

Once inside, the older man led him to the entrance of the parlor where everyone had been waiting for his arrival.

“May I introduce, Mr. Steven Grant, here for Lady Y/n Bennette.” He announced to the room and left hurriedly.

Steven stepped into the door and bowed to everyone in the room.

“Good Morning, Lord and Lady Bennette.” He stutterd lightly. “Happy to make your acquaintance.”

Lord Bennette stood from his seat and walked over to Steven extending his hand. Steven took and shook his hand firmly.

“Very nice! Very nice handshake, young man!” The gray haired man said. “I admire that about another man, a nice firm handshake shows promise!”

Then Lady Bennette stood and walked over to Steven. She smiled at him as he bowed to her and gently grabbed her hand.

“What a gentleman indeed, Mr. Grant.” She quipped. “You must tell me where you learned such excellent manners.”

“My Governess was one of a kind, my lady.” He chuckled. 

Great charm, Steven. Keep it up. Steven could hear Marc say. This really began to boost his confidence. 

“Let me go fetch y/n, she has been waiting all morning for you.” She laughed.

As she left the room, Howard entered and his face brightened at the sight of Steven.

“Grant! Good to see you this morning!” He said then turned to his father. “Father, Steven Grant and I were schoolmates in Brighton!”

“Is that so? Tell me, young man, What did you study and What do you do?” Lord Bennette inquired.

“I studied Archaeology, My Lord. I find it absolutely fascinating discovering ancient relics and cities.” He said truthfully. “I am currently a curator at the British Museum in London, sir”

Lord Bennette seemed pleased by his answer. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all. They all continued to talk while they awaited the young lady to arrive.

Once she had entered the room, Steven noticed her immediately. He turned fully to face and bowed to her. She curtsied back to him as he made his way towards her. She extended her hand to him and he happily took it and kissed her knuckles.

“Good Afternoon, Miss Bennette.” Steven said awfully quiet. He was just taken aback by her beauty.

“Good Afternoon, Mr. Grant.” She replied, a light blush spreading across her face.

After a brief moment of staring at each other. Howard stepped in and cleared his throat.

“We should probably get a move on if we want to catch the Hot Air Balloons taking off.” He stated.

“Ah yes, we probably shall then.” Steven agreed and turned to Lord Bennette once more. “It was an honor to meet you sir.”

“Please, this was a pleasure! I shall see you soon, my boy!” He chuckled happily.

Steven held his hand out to y/n, which she happily took, and then they were off. He helped her into the carriage following after her brother. This was turning out to be an excellent call. Something he never thought once would happen.

The carriage pulled up to the air filled and once Steven had exited the car, he helped you out onto the grassy area. It wasn’t too hot outside, but you definitely feel the sun blazing your skin. Though seeing all the large balloons getting ready to fly took your mind off of the heat.

Your brother and Steven chatted for a bit, and then Howard left to chat with another one of his friends leaving both you and Steven alone for a brief moment.

“Miss. Bennette, if I may ask, were you excited for this visit today?” Steven asked bluntly. You were honestly a little surprised by the question.

“Yes, very. I did rather fancy being able to see you again after the last ball.” You blushed. You could see him smile at your comment. 

“I was eager to see you again, but not knowing your name put me in a very hard predicament.” He replied. What an idiot you were. Of course you forgot to tell this man your name. However, no sense of dwelling on that now.

“Now let me ask you something, Mr. Grant.” You started. “What are things you like to do for fun?”

Now it was finally your turn to learn about him and his background. This excited you truly. Learning how he was an archaeologist, and how he talked about the ancient Egyptians and Egyptian gods. He was very fascinating.

Once he was done, he asked about you in return. You told him of your hobbies, how many languages you spoke, and how you had always wanted to travel. When the conversation seemed to falter, you saw the gleam in his eyes changed slightly.

“Do you speak any other languages?” You ask out of curiosity.

He nodded and cleared his throat.

“I know Spanish, French, and Arabic. It is something I am passionate about.” He said, though you noticed his accent had changed just a bit. It wasn’t enough to concern you though. 

You both talked more about his travels and education. You even learned that he had been to Africa on an expedition to find an ancient temple. How exciting.

“Would you ever take me on an expedition, Mr. Grant?” You asked him and grabbed onto his arm. Once again, his eyes changed at a moment's notice.

“If it is not too dangerous, we can discuss the option too.” He stared and smiled slightly at you.

This was exhilarating to talk about. The potential to travel the world with someone who could very much fall in love with and marry. You glance over and notice that he is staring at you intensely. When he notices you looking back, he smiles and holds out his arm.

You both begin to walk around the field, speaking to the pilots of the Hot Air Balloons. This was the highlight of your day. After a few hours, you both head back to the viewing area to watch them lift off. Howard is there waiting for the both of you, with a big smile spread across his face.

He and Steven spoke about the mechanics on the Balloons and you stood and listened to their conversation. All you could feel at the moment was absolute joy. When it was finally time to go you all headed back to the carriage and went on your way.

You all made it back to your residence, and you began to realize this was the end of your visit. It made you sad to think about. When you all had exited the carriage car, It was time to say goodbye. Steven chatted with your brother a bit before turning to you.

“Miss Bennette, If I may ask, would you accompany me to the ball in 2 days?” He asked. “If that is  acceptable with your older brother?”

Howard smiled brightly.

“Indeed it is! Y/n? What do you say to Mr. Grant’s request?” Your brother turned to you questioningly.

“It would be an absolute pleasure, Mr. Grant.” You say as you smile at him. He smiles warmly back at you. And with a tip of his hat, he was gone. It was sad watching him leave, however, now you were truly excited for the ball coming in two days time. 

Once you and your brother got back inside, he began to question how the visit went while he was away.

“So! Tell me! You like him, do you not?” He asked playfully.

“Howard! Shh!” You giggled. “It is true. I do have quite a fondness for him.”

“Then it is settled. I will not allow any other man to come between the two of you.” He stated. “I will go speak with him tomorrow about it.”

“Whatever you say Howard,” You smile.”And what of mama and papa?”

“I believe that they already approve of this match.” He said matter of factly.

“Is that so?” You wondered.

You walk back to the parlor, daydreaming of your future with Mr. Steven Grant.

Two days flew by in the blink of an eye. Before he knew it Steven was standing in a crowded room of people he had barely met, waiting for her to arrive. To say that he was excited was very much an understatement.

Everything was going smoothly. He had spoken to a few of his colleagues and dodged hopeless mamas in search of any man to hand their daughters off to.

Then she finally arrived. Her brother was the one who found you first. Giving Steven a firm pat on the back.

“Good to see you again, Old Friend!” He shouted happily. “How are you feeling tonight?”

“A bit nervous, but I am excited to see where tonight takes us.” Steven replied. “I’m glad we spoke the other day.”

Howard bowed his head. Steven knew that his old friend wanted nothing but the best for them. His sister finally joined them as they were speaking in hushed voices.

“Mr. Grant, lovely to see you again.” She curtsied at him and he bowed back in response.

“Miss Bennette, you look absolutely beautiful.” He said in awe, earning a blush that was slowly creeping onto the apples of her cheeks.

“Would it be a bother to ask you for a dance?” She asked, and that made him blush as well.

“Changing the roles are we now, Miss Bennette?” He joked. “Of course I would love to accompany you for a dance.”

The music started to play softly as Steven took her to the dance floor. In a moment, Marc took over since he was the more coordinating dancer of the lot. He tried to keep their expression soft to mimic Stevens. He concentrated on y/n as they waltzed around the dance floor with the other patrons of the ball.

He was indeed having fun with her. For the first time, in a very long time, he genuinely smiled. This sparked a flame within Marc as such as the first time she danced with Steven. Now there were two of them falling deeply in love with the woman in front of them.

Once the song ended, they both bowed to each other and smiled. There was definitely a connection between the two people. Marc extended his hand and took y/n to the balcony. It was quiet and there were barely any people around. She rested her head against his shoulder as they stared at the stars together.

Are you ready for this, mate?  Marc heard Steven ask. He took a deep breath and nodded slightly before letting Steven take back over.

Don’t fuck this up.  Marc said before Steven began to talk.

“Y/n?” Steven asked before pulling away from her. “There is something I need to discuss with you.”

She turned to look at him, a bit confused. 

“You can tell me anything, Mr. Grant.” She smiled.

“Well, the truth is, I came out here with you to propose.” He stated. He saw her face light up instantly. “But I do need to tell you the truth about something rather serious.”

He could tell she was confused by the way her eyebrows knitted together. Marc did the same thing when he was confused.

“It’s not the easiest thing to speak of, but I have been going through this ever since I was a child.”

“Steven.” She said softly. This made him look up at her. “Please tell me, everything.”

So that’s where he began. He told her about his brother, and his mother. The trauma that he had experienced as a child. And now the moment of truth.

“Oh Steven, that sounds awful, I am so sorry.” She rubbed his arm.

“I just, there is one more thing about it all.” He took a deep breath. “I have two other separate personalities inside of me.”

Now she definitely looked confused.

“I do not understand, what do you mean by that?” She asked.

“I mean, There are two other people inside of this one mind.” He explained softly. “There are technically three of us.”

“You must be jesting with me at the moment.” She giggled.

“y/n, I am being quite serious.” It was Marc who took over. She saw the gleam change in his eyes and then she finally understood.

“Wait, wait so then if there are three of you in one mind, then are they all called Steven Grant?” She asked quite seriously. She was trying to understand the whole situation, which they understood completely. 

“No, Steven Grant is just the main one.” Marc spoke, turning towards her. “My name is Marc, Marc Spector. We just danced in the ballroom together.”

Her mouth was gaped open. She really couldn’t believe what she was witnessing.

“I knew there was something off about your dancing.” She stated. “It didn’t seem like Steven at all.”

“You would be correct about that statement, mi corazón.” The sudden change of voice made y/k jump.

“And now are you the third one?” She looked at him puzzled.

“Si, the third and final one. Jake Lockely, at your service, princesa.” He bowed at her.

This was all so much for her to take in. Was she disturbed by it? Just a bit. She didn’t know what to think of it all. She looked back up at the man she thought she knew.

“Can I.. Can I speak to Steven?” She questioned. He nodded and then in a flash she saw Steven’s eyes brighten back into himself.

She looked like she was about to cry. Without thinking he brought a hand up to her cheek, trying to calm her.

“Hey there, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, but you needed to know.” He soothed her. “I didn’t want you to say yes and it be hidden for our entire lives.”

Y/n sniffled as he explained that to her. It did make a lot more sense to her. She appreciated that he even decided to discuss it with her rather than hide it.

“I accept then.” She announces.

“Sorry?” Steven looks into her eyes confused.

“I accept your proposal.” She says a little more clearly.

“You do?” He asks and she nods. “You do! Oh blessed!”

She giggles as he spins her arounds. He was excited to say the least.

“On one condition.” She says.

“Anything.” He agrees.

“This must be kept between the two of us, and you must announce who is speaking until I figure out you lot.” She confidently states.

“We all agree.”

Last Part Next Part

taglist: @dev-angeline @ahookedheroespureheart

If you want to be added to the taglist please send me a DM or comment and I will happily do it on the next update!

[jimilter]

cyanide on my bedsheets (m) | k.nj.

pairing:  kim namjoon x reader

rating:  m (18+)

genre:  smut | angst | fwb!au 

summary:  You didn’t voluntarily choose to have feelings for your best friend of over a decade. But you did voluntarily choose to fall in bed with him, knowing he didn’t feel the same. And now, every encounter with him is just another push at the knife he has permanently lodged in your heart.

warnings:  swearing + unrequited love + dom!joon + sub!reader + explicit sexual situations (unprotected penetrative sex, dirty talk, f&m oral, spanking, orgasm denial, overstimulation, slight manhandling, creampie) + careless aftercare + unhappy ending

word count:  8 k

submission for the July Games hosted by House Taeros.

❂ “To The Lighthouse”           ⁂ Hosted by: Professor Bee @inkedtae through @bangtansorciere 

⤐  AU Type: Ships in the Night - Unrequited Love ⤐  Themes: Secret Relationship | Slice of Life ⤐  Kinks: Clit Biting, Spanking, Face Fucking, Pain Kink, Size Kink, Dirty Talk, Overstimulation, Degradation.

note:  my first submission for the network!!! this was supposed to be a drabble and then the word count ran away from me, smh, but what’s new? this is an ANGSTY baby, y’all! 😩 — firstly, a HUGE THANKS to @getmemyfries noor bby for being my constant hype girl, listening to me rant about the angst and yell about joon’s sexiness and helping me with every darn thing she could possibly help me with. 🥺💕 — another big AF thank to @hisunshiine vanessa for giving me such amazing clues and pointers for the name of the fic! 😭❤ — and finally, the biggest one yet - @bangtanhome​ MOON, MY LOVE!!! thank you so so SO much for reading this through and boosting my limping confidence! you’re really so freakin’ precious for looking it over so quickly and so expertly and helping me brush it up! 🥺😭💕 also, the title’s a play on lyrics from frank ocean’s “bad religion” that nessa recommended me to look into!

spotify playlist here ❤

— masterlist

— feedback is always appreciated!

You are pushed against the wall the second you step into the house.

“Namjoon, for fuck’s sake—”

“You’re insane for thinking you still get to talk to me like this after all that show.”

The ‘all that show’ happens to be you laughing a bit too loud at Namjoon’s cousin when he made his lame jokes at the party you two are just returning from.

Ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine at his warning, you narrow your eyes at him. He’s insane for thinking you’d just bend over for him after all the knowledge you’ve acquired tonight.

“Must I remind you it was your parents that introduced me to him,” you snap, letting your true feelings show. “Something tells me you could’ve stopped them, Joon.”

After nearly a year of you rolling in bed with him, Namjoon’s parents still had zero clue of the status you held in his life. Now, you didn’t expect him to profess his undying love and ask his parents to fix your wedding or something, but cluing them in even a little bit would have been appreciated. You’d at least told your mom that you slept with your best friend, if not the ensuing emotional turmoil you were subjected to. She was very worried about your dynamics initially, but when the two of you acted seemingly normal around each other when you two went to your hometown for Christmas, she got off your case.

But Namjoon’s mom and dad were still under the impression that his son had a sister-like best friend in the form of you. Talk about feeling humiliated.

And tonight, his mom proposed her sister’s son, Seok-something, as a prospective partner to you because you’ve been single for a long time. All the while, Namjoon stood there, in between his mom and his cousin, and didn’t utter a single word of protest as she basically forced you into Seok-something’s arms. Namjoon didn’t even look at you, not once.

It hurt like a bitch.

Looking at the whole picture, now, you should be the angry one. And you were. You blew some steam off by interacting a bit too much with Seok-something, and relishing the covert death glares you spotted Namjoon throwing your way over his cousin’s shoulder.

Eventually, though, you were too tired on your pencil heels and too emotionally drained to socialise anymore, and decided to leave the party. Namjoon had followed you to your car, not saying a single word as he slid into the passenger’s seat. He kept shut the entire way to your duplex, too, head turned away to look out the window. 

You thought he was probably pissed and tired like you and needed to get out of the party, even if it was his own grandparents’ fiftieth anniversary gala. You two were childhood best friends before anything else, after all.

But now, looking at him, you realise he is more than pissed. He’s furious. And for some reason, he doesn’t look all that tired, either.

“And unhand me, I need to take off these death traps.” 

You push at him and he grudgingly steps away, jaw set as he turns away to lock the door. 

You walk into your coat closet and sit on your haunches to take off your heels. It’s slightly difficult with the form fitted slip dress you wear, but you manage.

You haven’t missed how he hasn't responded to your jab about him being able to stop his parents. You believe it is because he doesn’t actually have anything to say to it — he hasn’t told his parents because there isn’t anything worth telling them about. And even if you put aside the fact the feeling is most certainly not mutual on this front, it still stings for multiple other reasons, too.

Isn’t this behavior disrespectful to the friendship you two have shared for all these years? You told your mother because you felt so. The same cannot be said for Namjoon, apparently.

You walk out of the coat closet, sighing in relief when your bare feet flatten against the cold marble floor. Namjoon is leaning against the kitchen counter, suit jacket and tie off, the top button of his navy shirt undone and the rest straining against his buff chest. His hands are tucked in his grey slacks as he crosses one foot over the other. His short hair is dyed a gorgeous shade of grey and a few strands brush the top of his brow when he looks away from his feet to focus his eyes on you.

He looks too fucking hot to handle, and you feel weakness seep into your knees. 

Trying to put on a brave face, you ignore the heat of his gaze and walk into the kitchen. His shoulders look even bigger from behind — bulkier, rounder and broader than you’ve seen them last.

“Want something to drink?” you ask in a mumble, opening the fridge to get yourself a drink of water.

He doesn’t say anything, just very quietly turns in his place to face you. You hold his stare for a few seconds as you shut the fridge. But then it gets too intense and you have to look down at the bottle in your hands.

“Joon, I—”

“My parents want Seokjin hyung to court you.” 

Ah, so that was his name — Seokjin. “I figured as much.”

Namjoon looks at the kitchen counter between the two of you. “They think you two would be a good match.”

He looks dejected and you are irritated by the audacity. You felt like shit the whole night because Namjoon hid the gritty details of your dynamics with him from his parents, making you feel like he’s ashamed of you. He is in the wrong, here. Why does he get to sulk, too?

You shrug your shoulders. “Maybe we would be, who knows.”

You don’t mean much by the comment, tossing it mostly off-handedly to prompt Namjoon to keep talking. But Namjoon doesn't take it so off-handedly.

His eyes flash with a warning, jaw tightening.

In all honesty, it should turn you off, make you walk away from whatever this toxicity between the two of you is. But you’ve always been a weak bitch when it comes to him.

“He won’t last one night with you.” His words rumble low in his throat, absolute certainty spilling off each syllable.

Shit. You squeeze your thighs together.

“He wouldn’t know what to do with himself, much less you. He’d be shredded to pieces before you’re even wet, babygirl. You know that.”

You look away from the challenging glint in his eyes, nerve endings tingling at the pet name. You know it to your bones that he is right in his claims. And not just in the context of Seokjin, either. The way Namjoon takes command of you in bed has ruined you for all the men in the world.

But the brat in you doesn’t want to accept that reality.

You walk up to the kitchen counter and brace your hands on it. Leaning in, you raise a taunting brow at Namjoon. “What if I enjoy it? What if I like shredding him to pieces for me?”

It’s all bullshit, but the surprise that washes over Namjoon’s face satisfies you beyond explanation. 

He scoffs at you, the next second. “You happen to be the biggest sub in the whole world, babygirl. Are you really going to stand there, lying to my face?”

Your breath hitches. Did you take this too far?

Namjoon’s lips curve in a sardonic smile. A hand moves towards you and plucks the water bottle from your hands. 

“Joon…”

At his sharp glare, you bite your tongue.

His hand closes over your wrist, squeezing hard.

“Is that what you are supposed to call me?” 

“I — I…” You mean to scold him for pulling his dom voice on you when you’re trying to be mad at him, but words fail you.

You don’t know what is suddenly wrong with you. You hate it when your mind gets like this. Namjoon doesn’t seem to appreciate it much either, but for a wholly different reason.

Fury seeps into his gaze and he snaps his hand sideways, pulling you around the counter like a ragdoll.

“Have you forgotten how to properly use this slutty, little mouth of yours?” he hisses, empty hand coming up to clutch at your face, thumb and fingers digging into both sides of your jaw.

You gasp in pain, jaw dropping open. Namjoon grits his teeth, pressing harder until you groan in pain.

“Or is it only good enough to stuff my dick into?”

You shiver, knees buckling, ready to meet the floor and do exactly what Namjoon just mocked you about.

“No!” he snaps, tugging your arm upwards to straighten your folding knees. “Desperate, spoilt little girls don’t get to suck me.”

Your eyes swim up to his. He doesn’t look mad this time. No, his gaze has taken upon a calm severance which actually scares you more than the anger. Or excites you, if the wetness collecting between your thighs is anything to go by.

“This, off,” he commands, leaving your face and twisting a finger in the strap of your dress. "On the couch with you. Face down, ass up. You know the drill.”

Your breathing is stuttering out of you in little gasps. Just as you move to follow his command, eyes trained at your feet, Namjoon grasps your chin to tilt your face up to meet his eyes. You blink, slightly unnerved by his blank stare.

“What’s your safe word?”

You swallow. “Ruby,” you husk out.

 “Louder!” he snaps, and you jump.

“R–ruby.”

“Again, without stuttering.”

“Ruby.”

“Good. And what do you call me?”

You swallow again. “Sir.”

"Good. Now move along.”

You’re out of your dress in record time, scampering to bend over the couch with your knees pressed to the seat and forehead resting over its back, under a minute.

“No bra?” Namjoon taunts, clicking his tongue. 

You feel the heat of his body before you hear his breathing over your back. He presses a kiss at the base of your neck, taking you by surprise. He laughs at your little gasp.

“You’re wearing my favorite thong,” he clarifies.

His palm smoothes over your ass, fingers digging into your flesh. You try to regulate your breathing. No reason to get so worked up, so early in the night.

“Did you really plan to fuck him?”

Your eyes snap open at the undercurrent of vulnerability in his voice. But you quickly stomp out the sudden bloom of hope in your heart. This has happened far too many times for it to mean anything, you tell yourself.

Or, at least, you try to. 

“No, sir,” you respond honestly.

He breathes out in what sounds an awful lot like relief. But again, it might be a figment of your wishful thinking.

“Are you lying?”

“No, sir. I would never lie to you.”

You hold your breath when he doesn’t respond. And then he gives a loud, sardonic chuckle. 

“Now that is a lie in itself, babygirl. Or have you forgotten about your silly, little claim from minutes ago?”

You want to defend yourself, but you don't really have much of a defence to present. You said that to make Namjoon jealous, plain and simple. And it most definitely worked, given the position you two are in, right now. But telling him any of that is asking for a punishment worse than the one he is about to deliver, right now.

“I—I’m sorry, sir.”

“So, you admit you lied?” he hums.

His hand comes down to land across your ass in a loud thwack. A yelp stumbles out of your mouth, body lurching forward, ass stinging. Your cheeks heat up in humiliation the way they always do in such situations.

You breathe out.

And then a different kind of heat takes over. Your pulse kicks up and blood thrums pleasantly in your veins, You stuff your face further into the couch cushion, biting down on your lip.

"Look at you trembling." Namjoon scoffs. "What an absolute slut. Can't even punish her properly because she enjoys it."

You clench your teeth against his words, but he isn't actually wrong, is he?

Another slap lands on your other buttcheek. You are pushed into the couch, knees chafe a bit from the abrasion from the rough fabric of the seat cover.

But your body is singing with pleasure. 

"The way you were pushing this pretty, little ass into him." Namjoon's words are muffled by his gritted teeth. "Wanted to do this right there, in front of him."

A high pitched keen leaves you on the next slap.

"Wonder what he'd say if he could see you now, huh. Pretty ass all red and in the air for me. Only me."

He suddenly grabs your ass in his large palms, squeezing your smarting skin, causing more hurt than comfort. But you believe that that is his purpose.

He pulls one hand off to bring it back down with another resounding smack. And then alternates between both hands, delivering loud, hard slaps onto your buttcheeks and then massaging your stinging skin harshly enough for it to hurt more.

"Who does this ass belong to, babygirl?"

You're nearly sobbing, already lost count of the spanks he's delivered you. You're grateful he didn't make you count, or you'd be screwed.

"Y–you, sir," you breathily stammer. "Ju–just you."

"That's right. And so does this pussy."

Your thong is pulled to a side, cool air hitting your wet pussy before warm air replaces it. Your breath hitches.

Is he…?

Namjoon's lips meet your heated center in a loud slurp, tongue slipping into you. You shriek a garbled curse, half in surprise and half from the sudden onslaught of sensations.

But then he is gone.

"Wha…?" 

You deliriously try to look over your shoulder.

And then you freeze. 

You are not supposed to look at him when he's punishing you. His instructions have always been clear. But in your confused, horny state, you promptly forgot.

Namjoon is looking straight at you, and his eyebrow ticks up when your eyes meet. His lips form a smirk.

"You really fucking love getting your ass spanked don't you, my little slut?"

You do, without a single doubt. But you didn't intentionally try to riot, this one time. You quietly bring your face back in to press against the cushion.

"I'm sorry, sir," you mumble into it.

"You will be, baby."

And then Namjoon's hand delivers a slap directly between your thighs.

You scream, head craning back and back arching as the sting travels through your pussy to spread like hot molten pleasure all over your body.

"Fuck, look at that," Namjoon growls, two fingers moving to press against your clit. "You're creaming my hand, baby. You loved that, didn't you?"

You can only whimper in response, arching your ass towards him for increased friction.

"So fucking filthy. And you thought that prissy, uptight, son of a bitch could handle you?"

You never did. Not for a single second.

You suddenly decide to come clean.

"No."

Namjoon's stills. "What?"

"I never thought that," you speak into the cushion, your voice slightly hoarse but still perfectly coherent. "Just – just said that to rile you up." You pause. Exhale. And then add, "sir."

Namjoon's intake of breath is crisp between the two of you.

"We'll, consider me riled the fuck up, baby."

A thick arm wraps around your waist to lift you up and toss you on the couch on your back. You blink up at the huge man crowding over you, skin heating up at the sight of his broad torso over your tiny one.

Namjoon could snap you in half with bare minimum effort. The thought probably shouldn't tighten your core with arousal the way it does.

"You really are something else, aren't you?" he mumbles before leaning over you to press his lips onto yours.

You kiss him back with equal fervor, hands tangling up into his hair and legs wrapping around his waist. His length digs into your thigh. Your mouth waters with the need to have him on your tongue.

You pull away from his kiss. "Please," you breathe, eyes travelling down his body to land on his crotch. "I'll be good, sir. Please."

"You think I haven't heard that one before?" Namjoon sneers at you. "You promise me right about anything like a cock hungry slut. But then you go back on your word."

You're too far gone to feel humiliated at his words, especially given the fact that they ring with absolute truth. 

"Prove to me that you really can be good at keeping promises and following instructions. Then maybe…" He pauses, squinting at you. "Maybe I'll fuck your face."

You nod, eyes journeying to and fro between his intimidating stare and the bulge in his pants. "Ye–yes, sir."

"Good."

With that, Namjoon stands up straight and starts to unbutton his shirt. Every deft movement of his fingers uncovers more of his chest, pectoral muscles firm and swollen. You could probably fit both your hands on one. His abdomen is tight, cut and looks so solid. The shirt is pushed past his shoulders, and your gaze clings to his arms.

You breathe through your mouth, teeth mashing together with the effort of keeping yourself from panting like a bitch in heat. 

He seems to keep growing bigger and bulkier everytime you see him. You couldn’t wrap both your hands around his biceps and make them touch. Not to even get started on his hefty shoulders that make him nearly twice as broad as you. He's a lot massive and it gets you a lot wet.

You’re still gawking when he grabs your thighs and pushes them back towards your chest.

“Hold them here. And do not,” he warns, kneeling on the floor between your legs, “move.”

You shakily nod, gathering your wits and voice. “Yes, sir.”

His arms are nearly as thick as your thighs when he braces them on the seat of the couch. You pull your lip into your mouth to bite back a moan at the sight. 

“You do not come unless I tell you you can. I do not want to beat your gorgeous little pussy up, but if you really prompt me…” His jaw locks. “I will.”

Heat rushes through your body, eyes practically rolling to the back of your head with the memory of the slap he’d just delivered there. Your insides contract in anticipation.

“Do you understand?”

Words fail you for a few seconds, the thought of getting your pussy slapped by his large, shapely hands filling your head with endless images. A small moan is torn out of your throat.

Namjoon clicks his tongue, and the heavy disappointment in that little sound snaps your attention back to him.

“I — I understand, sir. S–sorry, sir.”

“Losing your mind over getting your pussy slapped?” He gives a rumbling chuckle. “My little slut.”

Your underwear having already been tugged aside, Namjoon dives right in without preamble.

A loud shriek escapes you when he encases your clit in his mouth with the first lick. His tongue laves all over your slit, drawing circles at your entrance without actually penetrating you, and you tremble in want. Before you can collect your bearings, his tongue reaches up to draw similar circles over your clit and you cry out.

The sensations build on too strong too quickly, and heat pools dangerously in the pit of your stomach. You really want to twist yourself away from his face because your orgasm is closing in on you and you have strict instructions to not come. But you also wanna thrash against his face to get there quicker, because the punishment Namjoon has declared is sounding a lot like a reward.

You end up doing neither when you recall how he also instructed you to not move.

“S—sir,” you brokenly whisper, fingers digging into the undersides of your knees to keep yourself open and spread.

He grunts into you, delivering a slap onto your ass. You gulp, clenching your eyes as tight as you have your teeth. His tongue leaves your clit, traversing back towards your entrance to dip into you in small, kitten licks.

“Ah—fuck, oh my God,” you sob, twisting your head to press it against the back of the couch.

You want to be a menace and come all over his mouth, just to relish the look of anger on his face when he delivers you your pleasurable punishment. But you also really want to please him by being just as obedient as he wants you to be.

The brat in you admits that the attitude you gave him tonight was too harsh of a rebuttal for him keeping things from his parents. He probably didn’t deem it too deep, because afterall, who talks to one’s parents about fuck buddies? It’s on you that you haven’t told him how deep this shit runs on your end.

Your spiralling thoughts are pushed to the back of your mind when Namjoon hums against your cunt, sending a fresh layer of electricity through your body.

You control your breathing, inhaling through the nose and exhaling through your mouth. You can do this — you just need to detach yourself from these thrums of arousal pulsing through you, every single one originating from your core. You try to take your mind off the feeling, try to think of anything other than the coil tightening in your stomach, Namjoon’s head of silver hair moving between your legs, his broad, broad bare back rippling with muscles with each movement, his enormous arms’ ability to fold you in half and—

“Holy fuck!” you screech, your unhelpful train of thoughts cut off.

He has closed his teeth over your clit and is massaging the nub with the flat of his blunt, front teeth. Your hips nearly buck before you dig your nails firmly into your legs and hold them back.

The pressure isn’t harsh enough to hurt, but it sure as hell is strong enough to bypass pleasurable stimulation. 

Entire body quivering, you lift your head up to peek down at him, gasping with your whole chest when you find his gaze trained on you. You try to maintain eye contact, but all your senses are failing you because you’re trying your damnedest hard to just not fucking explode. 

Through your fluttering eyes, you spot him raising a mocking eyebrow up at you. 

Oh, God, what the fuck is he so hot for?

You resolutely shut your eyes tighter, whining at your slipping control. 

“Sir, please,” you whimper. “I — I can’t…”

Namjoon releases your clit with a pop.

“What the—ah!” 

Blood supply abruptly restored, your clit is suddenly even more sensitive than before. If Namjoon so much as breathed over it, you’ll come. All your hardwork about to go to waste, you struggle to orient your brain. 

Namjoon retracts his tongue from you, though, and you’re left stunned when he hums satisfactorily.

You blink up at him with delirious eyes, tentatively loosening your grip on your legs. He smiles at you so big, his dimples flash.

And it’s ridiculous, how your heart brims with affection at the sight of him. He’s all sweaty with hair matted to his forehead, chin glistening with your arousal, lips darkened by working you up — and then there’s that cute freaking smile of his which should be terribly out of place in all of this, but actually isn’t.

But then, maybe it isn’t ridiculous at all.

“What a good girl,” he whispers in his raspy voice, his smile unwavering. “You did so well, babygirl. Time for reward.”

Your chest swells with pride and happiness — and that one emotion that you’d very much rather not feel at all but cannot help — and you grin at him in all your dishevelled state. He licks at his lower lip, giving you a small nod, smile melting into a smouldering look when he brings his large hands to yours and unlocks them from beneath your knees.

“Come on, baby.” 

He sits you up on the couch, and you belatedly realise how you’re not even mad he didn’t let you come because of how much you’ve pleased him by being a good girl for him. Because you know he will grant you all the sweetest of releases if you do as he says. He always has.

What the hell were you thinking, challenging him like that earlier? You could never even imagine any other way you would attain the kind of completion you do with Namjoon.

You kneel on the soft cushion of the sofa, sitting back on your calves. Your eyes dart up to his, seeking unspoken permission.

He looks at you from under hooded eyes and nods once.

You reach forth with your eager hands, unbuckling his belt, before unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. Your insides have been coiling ever since he grabbed your wrist in the kitchen, you do not have enough patience to properly undress him. You push his pants down, scrunching them over his burly thighs before tugging at the waistband of his boxers and pulling the cotton fabric down the same way.

He is fully hard and leaking, almost beckoning you closer with the drop of precum over his slit. 

You open your mouth, tongue hanging out as far as you can extend it. Then you entwine your fingers and put them in your lap, and look up at him with big, wide eyes. Like always.

Namjoon looks so fucking tantalising, standing tall, broad and manly over you, ready to ruin you with his thick cock that hangs inches from your tongue. He really really could snap you in half if he wanted to. Your pussy clenches at the thought, the denied orgasm finally raising its head again.

A hand moves to grip at your chin. “Use your hands.”

You blink at his grumble. 

Did you hear him correctly? He never lets you use your hands, always choosing to fuck your mouth. What— 

“I want those hands all over my cock,” he grits out when you give him a confused look. “I want them smelling like me when you try to touch another guy again, reminding you of why you shouldn’t.”

You swallow, arousal coating your core at his words. You’ll never understand how his filthiest of demands and proclamations never manage to gross you out. You know the why, of course, but you do not get the how. Emotions work in inexplicable ways.

Licking your suddenly dry lips, you reach one shaky hand to wrap around him.

Namjoon scoffs. “What is all this shaking? If I wanted a blushing virgin to slobber on my dick, I wouldn't be here.”

You mash your teeth at his gibe.

Never a good idea to bring in tender emotions between the two of you.

Squaring your shoulders, you thrust your naked breasts out, nipples brushing the rough fabric of his pants when you grip his length firmly and tug him closer. Before Namjoon has properly regained his footing, you wrap your lips around his tip and suck hard.

“Oh fuck, baby—yes,” he hisses, a hand gripping your hair, the other resting on the wall next to him. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

You open your mouth, using his precum as lube to take in as much of him as you can. Which you cannot do a lot of, because you have your hand still wrapped around his base when his tip reaches the back of your mouth. You remove the hand, moving it lower to cup his balls, and slide your mouth further down. Just as your nose is about to brush the base of his cock, he hits the back of your throat. Despite the months of practice you have, your throat closes up in a gag.

Namjoon releases a loud groan, breaking into a litany of curses.

“Baby, baby, baby — fuck, babygirl! That feels so fucking good, yes.”

You blink your tears away, easing your throat a bit as you are used to. The addition of your hands is really helpful, though, when you use one to pump him and the other to massage his balls. Your tongue licks at his head, lips pressing slurpy kisses, causing him to give you small groans. You make a detour to lick at his balls, relishing the soft gasps you receive. You roll one into your mouth, softly sucking on it and his hips dart forward with a muffled curse falling from his mouth.

Sufficiently relaxed, you plunge your mouth over his cock, again, this time letting him hit the base of your throat with far more ease. 

“Shit, babe—”

He breaks off into a guttural whine, grip tightening on your hair. His hips drive into your mouth at a slow pace, and you welcome him with your jaw lowered and throat relaxed, humming around him.

“Don’t — don’t do that, fuck—”

You would smirk if you didn’t currently have your mouth full of cock. You flutter your lashes to make do, looking up at him with as much innocence as you can muster. 

Sweat rolls down the planes of his body, his buff chest and rounded shoulders glistening with a sheen. Your pussy clenches, throbbing with the need to be filled the way your mouth is. 

You shut your eyes, resting a hand on one of his rock hard thighs, the other one climbing up to spread over his taut abdomen.

“This mouth really is meant for me, huh? Look at how well you take me, fuck. Tiny little mouth, but opens big enough to swallow this fat cock. My pretty, little cock slut.”

You preen from his praise, fingers splaying over his slippery, sweat coated skin for support as you try to rock your head back and forth to get in even more friction.

“Fuck!” Namjoon suddenly cries out, grabbing your hair and pulling you off himself in the blink of an eye.

Your mouth’s still gaping wide when you open your eyes, confused and more than a little dazed. Your pussy clenches at the sight of his fully erect length, wet from your mouth. You drag your gaze up to his face with difficulty, sweeping the back of your hand over your mouth.

His eyes are screwed shut, jaw clenched and teeth barred.

“Wh—”

He cuts you off with a snarl, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing you against his chest, forehead resting against yours. When his eyes open, they are wild and really, really dark.

“No one,” he says very quietly, voice gruff, “else gets to have you like this.”

He swallows your surprised gasp, taking your lips in a searing kiss. You moan into his mouth when his chest moves against your pebbled nipples, all your senses going haywire.

The kiss is cut short far sooner than you would have liked it to, Namjoon’s lips moving down to drop kisses on your jaw, over your neck, down to the curves of your breasts. He takes a nipple into his mouth, rolling his tongue over it. You cling onto him with both your hands holding onto his shoulders, desperate whines pulled from you. 

His kisses are littered all the way down to your stomach, and then all the way up to the back of your ears.

“Hands and knees,” his gravelly voice snaps into the nape of your neck, and you spring into action.

Your arousal has definitely ruined the couch, but you couldn’t care less. You quickly press your forehead into its back the way you had when he spanked you, and arch your body to extend your ass as far back and up as you can.

“God, what a filthy fucking slut,” he moans, gripping your hips with both his hands and bringing them down to massage your still singing ass. “Always so willing and ready for me.”

You nod, cheek rubbing against coarse fabric. “Yes, sir. Always. Only for you.”

Namjoon swears under his breath, grip tightening at your hip. “That’s right, baby, only for me. And it better stay that way.”

If it were up to you, it’d stay that way forever. In a more intimate setting than this, too. You wonder how he doesn’t realise that.

“It will, sir,” you sigh. 

Satisfied by your response, Namjoon hums in appreciation and moves two fingers to your core. “Ah, soaking for me, as always.”

Despite yourself, your lips curl up in a smile at the fondness in his tone. “Always.”

He lines himself up, tip nudging at your center. “I fuck you raw you, babygirl. Always fuck you raw. How could you ever even think—” 

His head enters you, and you mewl. 

“—about letting another man—”

“Ah!” Your walls flutter around him as he slides in further. 

“—even touch what I’ve—”

He bottoms out and you gasp. “Sir! Fuck fuck fuck, you’re so fucking big, oh God!”

“—claimed as mine?” he finishes in a growl, enormous torso covering yours and mouth pressing into your throat. “So,” he enunciates with a shallow thrust, “many,” another thrust, “times.”

Your jaw has been dropped in a silent scream which verbalises at his final thrust. You hear him chuckling at your shout of pleasure, and your cheeks heat up.

“You didn’t answer me, baby,” he somehow manages to intelligibly murmur between hammering into your.

All thoughts leave you, your mind singling out the feeling of Namjoon expertly hitting that one spot inside of you that always sends you over the edge in a handful of strokes.

You jolt with every push of his cock, small gasps leaving you. He’d eaten you out to the point of causing pain, and still hadn’t let you come. Your cunt has been convulsing by itself ever since. It won’t take you long to—

“Are you even listening?”

A resounding thwack lands on your ass, forcing you to stop thinking about your impending orgasm.

And then it registers.

With a small gasp, you launch into explanations. “S–s–sir, I didn’t—I won’t ever, ever. Think of an–another man. Touching what’s — what’s yours. Never,” your last word comes out as more of a wail when he grinds his hips into your ass.

Namjoon grunts in response. “Good. That’s — ah — good. Now be a good little slut and take what I give you.”

Your jaw unhinges with a loud moan, back arching further. Namjoon fucks into you at an unforgivable pace, lewd noises of skin slapping on skin mingled with the harmonies of your moans and his muted groans fill up the space around you. 

Your orgasm looms quicker than you expected. 

“S–sir, I’m close!”

“Oh?” he pants, amusement lining his voice. “Already?”

You duck your head, short of breath as you try to speak. “You — you, ah… you fuck me… fuck me s–so well, sir…”

Namjoon hums. “Who fucks you so well?”

Your entire body thrums. “You do, sir.”

“And who am I?” He lowers his head to nip at your shoulder blade and you falter.

“Sir—”

“What’s my name, my little slut?”

Your eyes snap open. He wants you to say his name? You’ve never done that before.

His hips roll into you at a slower pace while you try to arrange your tongue around the two syllables.

“Namjoon,” you whisper, barely even audible to yourself.

He scoops you up to press your back against his front, moving his lips to your earlobe. “Louder.”

“Namjoon,” you say a bit louder this time.

He growls. “Fucking scream it.”

One of his hands clamps over one of your breasts, mauling the flesh, while the other moves to your center, expert fingers locating your clit and flicking it between them. 

“Namjoon!” you yelp, not even close to a scream, and he swears behind you.

He pushes you back into your previous position and grips your ass firmly.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to give me a scream,” Namjoon mumbles with determination spilling off his words. “I’ll pull one out of you.”

You feel yourself getting wetter at his words, just as he pushes at your ass, pulling himself almost fully out of you before he pulls your ass back and hits all the right spots within you. And then he picks up speed, fingers digging into your ass to roll your hips over his.

You thrash wildly in his arms, hands flailing every which way to find purchase until you grip onto the back of the couch. Sweat breaks out on your skin, breathing all over the place with exertion as your hips are dragged back and forth. The coil beneath your navel is wound tighter and tighter with every stroke.

“I — I’m so close, please—”

“Come for me, baby,” Namjoon prompts you. “Come all over my cock, fuck, get those juices all on me. Want it so bad. Give it to me, babygirl.”

He fucks you hard and fast and messy, and you are shot off careening into your climax.

“Oh—oh oh oh, fuck — yes yes yes, fuck! Namjoon!” you scream, walls spasming around his length as you explode, drawn under by the huge wave of blinding, white pleasure crashing into you. 

Your vision blurs with tears, breathing momentarily ceased. Your body shudders with the force of your orgarm, hips undulating against Namjoon.

“That’s right, baby,” Namjoon coos, rocking into you at a slower pace. “Namjoon. Not my cousin, not any other guy. Only Namjoon.”

He is still thrusting into you when you float back down from your high, but his breathing has picked up and you can tell it’s just a matter of time before—

“Fuck!” Namjoon grouses, stiffening behind you for a second and then exploding in you with a shout of your name. His hips grind into your ass a couple of times before coming to a halt.

You are a lump of bones, crashing on the couch immediately once Namjoon takes his arms off you. But you’ve barely laid there for a couple of seconds when you are scooped up in his embrace.

Your bleary eyes open to find him staring down at you with a very delicate expression on his face. That very familiar feeling of hope tries to make its way to the forefront of your brain, but you push it down.

This isn’t anything special.

Sure, a lot was different tonight than your usual nights with Namjoon. But different doesn’t necessarily mean special. In this context, it doesn’t at all mean special.

Namjoon acted the way he did because he was jealous. That is all there is to it.

When Namjoon deposits you on the edge of your bed, a soft look in his eyes as he kneels before you, every repressed feeling in your heart decides to climb up your chest and asphyxiate you.

You cough, placing a hand on your sternum to physically fight it off. 

But then Namjoon grins, and you nearly sob in pain.

You hasten to put up all your walls. You’ve been in this position far too many times to not know better than expecting softness and comfort from this man after sex. That isn’t to say he leaves you unattended and uncared for, no. He tends to your every single need, asking a myriad of questions about your well being and only leaves your house when he’s ascertained you’re good to be left on your own. But the entire process is so clinical, that it could very well be a nurse doing all those things with you because you cannot tell the difference.

You look away from his blindingly beautiful smile.

“All this because you don’t want me to let Seokhyun court me?” you say, trying to sound as humorous as you can.

Namjoon’s expressions shatter. He pulls his lips into a straight line, his eyes suddenly losing their lustre.

Now this — this confuses you. What reason does he have to look so stricken? He’s the one who doesn’t give two fucks. He’s the one who never saw you past fucking you. He’s the one who sometimes forgets you two are supposed to be best friends as well.

He’s the one who decided to hide you from his parents. Probably because he was too ashamed of his association with you in this way.

He’s the one who most definitely doesn’t have any feelings for you beyond the customary platonic worry of a friend.

Shouldn’t he be overjoyed that you didn’t make a big deal out of his jealous claiming of you? 

“Seokjin,” he corrects you and you bite your tongue.

Way to make a statement and the guy’s name wrong. Now he’d know how little that guy — or any other guy in the world — means to you next to him. Or, would he? Nah, this is still too much to expect of his oblivious self.

“If that is how you see it,” Namjoon speaks so low, you have to strain your ears to catch it all, “fine. Did I convince you to not let Seokjin court you?”

Uh, most definitely too much to expect. Your shoulders slumping, you blindly reach behind you for the comforter.

“As I said, Joon,” you tell him, honestly, “I wasn’t actually gonna do it. Was just trying to placate your mom, tonight.”

Namjoon looks relieved. You hate it so much. You hate how he gets to walk away from this without a single scare every time, while every shield you put up in front of your heart seems to just crumble at the end of your nights with him.

“Because,” you spitefully and unnecessarily continue, wrapping the comforter around your naked body and avoiding his eyes, “it would be all too inconvenient if I tried to date your cousin while we’re doing this.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You look up at him with your face carefully wiped off any expressions. “It means that we’ll obviously have to stop this if I try to get with your cousin, Joon.”

“But you just said—”

“I said if,” you interrupt, feeling satisfied at the dent between his brows.

He raises to his feet, naked torso just as inviting as ever but face completely shuttered. His eyes have a far off look in them and try as you might, you cannot decipher the knots in his eyebrows. 

Why is he so jealous of you hypothetically dating his cousin if your thing with him means so little to him? He has always made it painfully obvious to you, with words and actions, that this just happens because it's convenient for him.

You give a small sigh when he just stands there without moving. 

“I’ll be okay, Joon. You can leave if you need to.”

His gaze snaps to yours in what feels like surprise, but he has steeled his face in such a way that his stare looks completely flat, now. You raise your shoulders in a tiny shrug when he keeps staring. 

“Does anything hurt?” he finally speaks, voice coming out just as flat as his whole demeanour.

Exactly how a nurse would ask about your well being.

You shake your head. “A bit sore, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“Are you sure? I can make you some tea?”

You’d kill for a piping hot cup of chamomile right now. But asking him would kill you. You just need him out of your house as soon as he can be.

“No, I’m good,” you quietly lie.

Your eyes dart towards the clock on your nightstand. It is close to midnight, now, telling you it’s been nearly two hours since you two left the party. 

“Maybe you should head home. It’s pretty late and your whole family’s in town. They’ll start wondering where you disappeared off to.”

Namjoon looks away from you and gives a stiff nod. “Maybe.”

He leaves your bedroom without a word, grabbing his clothes from the living room. You follow him on timid steps to find him turned to the other side, buttoning his shirt.

Your eyes scan the couch and sure enough, there’s a huge, damp spot at the edge of the seat where you knelt when you sucked Namjoon off. You pull your lips in, exhaling. 

Namjoon is still silent even as he gathers his discarded suit jacket and tie, and suddenly, a pang of guilt hits you out of nowhere.

You’re not being too harsh, are you? Basically kicking him out after sex?

But this has always been your norm. He always, always leaves after sex, never ever staying the night no matter how late it is.

But you still shouldn’t have been so dismissive about it, right?

You don’t get to dwell much on it when Namjoon stalks past you with his eyes looking straight ahead. He has his tie stuffed into a pocket of his trousers, and his suit jacket hangs off one of his shoulders. 

It suddenly hits you when he’s at the door.

“Oh, my God—Joon! You didn’t bring your car!”

He looks at you over his shoulder as he unlocks the door with a roll of his eyes. “Glad you remembered,” he sneers. “No issues, though. I called an uber, it’s almost here.”

Heaviness falls to the pit of your stomach. Why is this whole situation suddenly so caustic? It’s supposed to be routine, right?

Then why does it feel wrong to send him off like this?

“Um, Joon?” you call out, unable to stop yourself.

He’s already descending the stairs of the porch and doesn’t pause. It hurts you more than it probably should.

“It’s fine, my uber’s round the corner,” he says over his shoulder, not even turning his head fully to look at you.

You bite down on your lower lip, hand gripping onto the doorjamb. Why were you so hasty in kicking him out? Maybe you should’ve discussed his jealousy. Maybe it would’ve yielded some explanations. Maybe it would’ve changed things—

No.

You’re not going down that dominos of a line of thoughts. If things were gonna change, they would’ve changed already. Nothing is going to change between the two of you. And it should neither surprise nor bother you, because you chose for things to be this way when you started sleeping with him.

You tug the comforter tighter around yourself, pulling your gaze off Namjoon’s retreating back, and step inside your house.

You breathe out as you lock the door, feeling ten times more tired than you did seconds ago.

You’ve done nothing wrong, you remind yourself. You just chose to prioritize yourself over him, this once. And though you don't usually do this, you are more than allowed to change that.

You are entitled to making harsh decisions to take care of your heart, because evidently, no one else is going to do that for you.

But despite all of this, when you move about the kitchen and start to fill the kettle to make yourself a cup of tea, your heart feels hollow and your eyes keep stinging.

You hate being too weak to protect your heart even when you desperately want to.

You hate the toxicity you two have brewed up, leaving nothing of the sweet friendship you once had.

You hate the day you agreed to Namjoon’s proposal of sleeping together.

You hate that you fell in love.

You hate that he didn’t.

You hate—

No. You wish you could hate him the same way.

You wish. 

You hopelessly wish.

taglist: @shrimpmsg​ @codeinebelle​

© jimilter | 2021

[kunikame]

a short fic about blasting songs in miyukis room (which later becomes the cafeteria) with the seidou boys written for my linked playlist bc i felt i needed to write this. hope you enjoy <3

i only wrote the things i imagined! feel free to imagine any other scenarios for other characters with the songs! if you do, let me know in the comments! id be happy to read them <3

warnings: i betaread this while listening to enstars songs. fem pronouns. lowercase. probably nothing more but lmk :)

ㅡ！tags: @toges-wife / fill form/pm/ask/comment to be added! (if you’re in bold i can’t tag you)

after the boys secured a spot at nationals you figured it called for a celebration or something, so you grabbed kuramochi and eijun - who in turn grabbed furuya and haruichi - and raided miyukis room. he really didn't want to let you guys in, koushuu disagreed aswell, but too bad because majority wins. kuramochi set up the speaker and the playlist you now and the previous 3rd years threw together started playing.

the others were of course alarmed by this because, loud upbeat music? from miyuki and koushuus' room? seto takuma has never run so fast in his life. everyone sprinted over in worry, only to see the blame lay on you - which made way more sense.

they also wanted to join the celebration but the room was too small to hold all of you, so eijun proposed the - for once - brilliant idea to move to the cafeteria, which you did, after a moment of stunned silence. the previous 3rd years who were still hanging out there with some of the 2nd and 1st years also joined the party, as they should.

the song that started through shuffle was where them girls at. thanks to it you found out the kominato twins listen to nicki minaj - as they should. you and the pink haired twins along with seto, kawakami and yui were screaming the nicki songs at the top of your lungs.

the guys really got into cruisin for a bruisin, it was their favorite song from when you all watched teen beach movie together! the whole reason you added it to the playlist. surprisingly, shirasu and aso took the spotlight for this one!

jalebi baby and shut up and dance were entirely yours and kuramochis songs. he asked you to dance with him for both, how could you refuse? neither of you would be caught alive admitting to be flustered with the other so close to you, though. You could swear you saw ryousuke recording and snickering, but it might've just been your imagination.

big time rush didn't even a need a voting, everyone knew who the big 4 were for that one. koushuu (unwillingly), miyuki (unwillingly but he got really into it), eijun (willingly, got too into it) and furuya (he had fun?). it was a precious sight. you all had a great laugh over their perfomance, but it was great. their voices meshed together unexpectedly well.

the greatest show started playing exactly when coach kataoka came to check what the commotion was. miyuki and yuuki, as the captains, took the lyrics for this one. they switched each line, and it worked really well. all the background vocals were done by the rest of you. it was a sight to see. you all working together. almost like during matches. rei placed a camera in the cafeteria to record and commemorate the whole thing. her and kataoka chose to stay with you, while ochiai decided he'd rather not. thank heavens.

after the boys had their moments, you figured it was the girls time to shine, and the playlist seemed to agree with you. the moment you heard the intro to girlfriend you ran to get whatever you could use as a microphone and got ready to sing your heart out, fellow manager and close friend takako joined you soon after. the guys clapped after your perfomance, enjoying it to the fullest just as you enjoyed theirs.

this is what you adored about the seido baseball club. you were like family. a huge family with its ups and downs that always came back together. everyone supported everyone, but there was still friendly competition.

die young. "i hear you heart beat to the beat of the drums" *everyone bangs a fist on the nearest surface* "oh what a shame that you came here with someone-"

dj got us fallin' in love. jun shone with this one. his voice cracked while screaming "CAUSE BABY TONIIIIiiiiGHT". continued like nothing happened. professional

of course, some songs passed without any screaming as you get tired and so do your vocal cords, but the music never stopped. volume lowers and people sit down to drink and talk a bit, then when another screamable song comes up the volume goes back to max and it's like you never stopped. you were peacefully laughing with seto when kuramochi called out to you, pushing the volume higher on the speaker. immediately recognizing the intro you grabbed your bottle and it's like you were waiting for this moment your entire life, except everyone else was confused. ryousuke didn't remember this song being in the playlist.

"once upon a time, a few mistakes ago-"

ryousuke walked up to kuramochi after you got into your singing. "dude, what's this about?" kuramochi while never once breaking his fond gaze off you simply shrugged, "reminds her of her past crush on narumiya- or was it sanada? i dunno, some guy she met through us.. always played this song when she realized who the guy was, so she added it here i guess." ryousuke just hummed in understanding then moved his gaze over to you, surprised to see you now standing on a table with the guys around you sweatdropping but cheering you on nonetheless.

when memories by conan gray came on, someone moved to lower the volume only to stop at the death glare they received from you and miyuki kazuya himself. For someone who was so against this, he sure got mad over that song, huh. It became a heartfelt duet, but noone understood why a duet with you 2. It was a secret.

"so there's no good reason in make-believing that we could ever exist again. I can't be your friend, can't be your lover, can't be reason we hold back eachother from falling in love, with somebody other than me."

after that, the night continued in this spirit. everyone was enjoying themselves, everyone got a chance to sing their song be it alone or with someone, even coach and rei! as the playlist was slowly running out of songs to play, the one song you put on 'hide in playlist' begged to be played. you, of course, granted it's wish, as it was a song you left for last on purpose. you called out to your co-organizer, kuramochi, who looked at you and based off your sparkling eyes instantly knew. a loud "hey!" came out of his throat, and the idle chatters volume slowly went down.

"everyone, if you would please look over here," you said waiting for them to switch their gazes over to you, "yeah, thank you. so, uh, first of all congratulations on todays win! i never for a second thought we wouldn't make nationals. i knew if anyone, you guys would do it. with the 3rd years there to support you, with the field players and us in the dugout, with coach kataoka, the pitchers, all of you. i knew you'd make it, and i'm so endlessly proud of you! of your hard work, will to fight, endurance.. i can't wait to see how far you - we - can go. let's aim for the top. now, if you would all please rise for the 2010-2014 seido baseball club anthem!"

coach kataoka and rei nodded along with your speech, as they felt the same way - proud of how far the boys have come - and though confused, stood up along with everyone else. most people stood in silence and slight confusion, looking toward kuramochi for answers, only to be left disappointed when the man wouldn't give any. he simply continued staring at you with a very warm and fond look in his eye.

the nights - avicii

Once upon a younger year

When all our shadows disappeared

The animals inside came out to play

Went face to face with all our fears

Learned our lessons through the tears

Made memories we knew would never fade

everyone instantly recognized the intro, smiles and grins lighting up their faces. the joyous screaming resumed, only this time it was everyone, not just a couple people. You ran over to kuramochi and miyuki, grabbing each hand, motioning to them to keep the chain going. soon, everyone was holding hands and jumping around together, screaming at the top of their lungs.

One day, my father, he told me

"Son, don't let it slip away"

He took me in his arms, I heard him say

"When you get older

Your wild heart will live for younger days

Think of me if ever you're afraid"

He said, "One day, you'll leave this world behind

So live a life you will remember"

My father told me when I was just a child

"These are the nights that never die"

My father told me

each time a "Hey" was yelled in the song, it was also yelled by the group (jun was having the time of his life). eijun encouraged everyone to jump along for emphasis, an idea many supported.

though miyuki and koushuu were originally against this, you think this might be the first time you've seen kazuya genuinely happy, and koushuu coming out of his shell. your party was probably heard all the way to the other dorm buildings but you didn't care. that was a problem for tomorrow, for now you decided you'll just live in the moment.