#like I wasn't planning on DOING anything with it (and for the near future I still won't) so it was more of a cool what-if in broad strokes

[pjmmania]

If Snow Decides to Fall

3. "I hear you now."

Chapter Warnings: Pregnancy, mentions of abortion, explicit language, profanity

Tag List: @marihoneywk

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Nine weeks. You’d known about the pregnancy for a full month, and neither of you had told a soul. That is, until last night, two weeks after the ultrasound. You revealed it to your parents via phone call when you got home from work, and they were furious. You couldn’t stop stewing over their words:

"What do you mean you're pregnant?!"

"Park Jimin?! And how does he plan on supporting you?"

"Won't this cost you your job? How could you be so irresponsible?"

"We raised you better than this, young lady."

You tried to explain to them that you were, in fact, in a relationship with him. You tried to tell them how you met him a year ago, not in some sexually charged environment, but at work. And this wasn't just a one-night stand gone awry. You were committed to one another and to having this baby, but it was as if their ears were totally closed to hearing anything outside of what they decided was the truth.

You could have cried that morning, but you were also mightily relieved that it was over. Now they knew, they could digest it on their own, and you could move on with your business.

Getting dressed for work, you dealt with the same fatigue and sickness that had become routine. You had figured out that bananas and plain rice helped soothe your stomach, and you could keep it down, so that’s what you ate for breakfast.

As you consumed your food slowly, you stared at the sonogram photos, which you had magnetized to the refrigerator. It took a few conversations to get there, but you and Jimin were finally able to work out a date and time for the next ultrasound. It would be at the twenty-week mark in August at his place. You smiled to yourself as you daydreamed about it, but there was something else to be excited for in the very near future.

You glanced back into your living room, where there was a gift on the sofa. It was wrapped in neutral light green paper and a simple white bow. You’d gotten a little surprise for Jimin, and planned on giving it to him whenever you were at his apartment next.

Jimin was working out intensely at the studio’s fitness center early that morning, partially because it was necessary to keep up with his job, but also to push out nervous energy.

He knew you told your parents the night before, and he also knew how they reacted. You were reluctant to share it for the sake of sparing his feelings, but he insisted on it. Now that he was fully aware of how your parents felt about him, it stirred him up inside. He wanted the grandparents of his child to at least like him.

Even worse, today was the day he promised he’d tell his own parents. Unsettled and keyed up, he was running on the treadmill much harder than normal. The more he overthought about what his parents would say, the harder he ran. It was beginning to draw attention from Taehyung, Jungkook, and Namjoon, who were all working out at the same time.

Taehyung finished his set on one of the leg machines and got off so he could switch places with the leader, gesturing to Jimin with the quick tilt of his head, "What is he doing? We have a dance practice today. He's going to burn himself out."

Namjoon furrowed his brows, agreeing that this was most unlike him to do something like this. If they had dance practice on a given day, then he made sure he kept his gym activities lighter, more like a warm-up. Right now, it looked like he was training for a marathon. Something had still been a little off about Jimin over the past few weeks. This was just the latest example, and he was becoming more worried by the day.

Jungkook finished a set of pull-ups, "I'll go check on him."

The youngest wiped his dark brown, sweat-clung hair off his forehead and then dabbed off his face with his t-shirt. He made his way over to his panting friend, trying to get his attention.

Jimin took out an earbud when he thought he heard someone calling him. He turned his head to find a humored Jungkook standing there, "What's up?"

"You need to slow the fuck down," Jungkook said, "Don't kill those legs before practice."

"I'm fine," he puffed, "This is light."

"You've been at it for almost thirty minutes. That's double what you typically do before dancing. Come on, Jimin. You'll get all the cardio you desire in a few hours."

He had a point, so he hit the button for the machine to come to a halt. It was only when he became sedentary again that he realized how hard he had pushed his body. It felt like his chest was going to implode. He clutched his shirt over his chest, taking the other earbud out.

Jungkook stepped a bit closer and lowered his voice, "You okay, hyung?"

Jimin said nothing, too desperate to catch his breath. All he could do was nod, but it did little to convince.

The weight was coming down on him. Abruptly, he got off the treadmill and walked out into the hallway, not even stopping to take a drink of water. His heart and mind were both racing. He couldn't take it anymore - he might as well just give them a call now. Rip the bandaid off.

He took the elevator up to the eighth floor, where the private studio rooms were. Yoongi, Jin, and Hoseok might have been in theirs, so he opted for the one that was open for general use. He thanked his lucky stars that this was taking place before work hours, so there was no outside party there to see him looking this distraught. All he had to do was avoid the eyes of the managers, who were likely already in their offices.

He pressed the access code into the pad on the wall with a hasty index finger. Once inside the four soundproof walls, the door locked automatically behind him.

There was a desk set up against the wall with a couple of monitors and a swivel chair. He sank into the chair and took a pause, staring his mother’s contact on the phone. Breathing finally slowing down, he cleared his throat and forced himself to push the button against his own wishes.

He put the phone to his ear and listened to it ring four times, before his mother’s sweet voice.

“Jimin?”

He gulped, “Hey, Mom. How are you?”

“What’s wrong?” she asked him immediately. A mother knew her child, and she certainly could detect the nervousness in his voice, no matter how hard he was trying to sound normal.

There was no point in lying to her, “Nothing’s wrong, per se. But I do need to tell you and Dad something really important. Is he around?”

“Sure, honey. One second.” she said before calling his father’s name in the background.

Jimin’s knee was bouncing up and down as he tapped his foot. The time was fast approaching.

“Hey,” his father’s voice joined in, “How are you, son?”

“I’m alright Dad. I need to tell you guys something and I don’t necessarily know how to do it,” he smiled anxiously, “Um…Yeah, I really have no idea how to do this.”

His mother used a soft, caring tone, “You can tell us. You said it was nothing bad, right?”

“Well, that’s the thing,” Jimin sighed, reclining back in the chair, “To me it’s not, at least not anymore. But it’s probably going to upset you.”

“That’s most unlike you. You know you can tell us anything.” His father said.

He nodded, starting to work up the courage he needed, “I know, I know…Okay, I just have to do it. Do you both remember me telling you about the girl I’ve been seeing, Y/N?”

“Yes,” his father said wearily, “I think I know where this is going. Son, please tell us you didn’t propose to this girl without introducing her to your mother and me first.”

“What? No, it’s not that. But we’ve been seeing each other for a year now and things have gotten pretty serious…really serious actually,” Jimin coerced the words out of his mouth, “She’s pregnant.”

The air went dead. On the other end of the line, his parents were utterly stunned. Their silence was making him writhe. He went from leaning back in the chair to bending forward, doubled over with his elbows on his knees.

He pushed his free hand back into his hair, “I know this comes as a shock. I’m sorry. It just sort of…happened.”

His mother came back instantly with a voice full of worry and sternness, “Babies don’t just happen, Jimin. You weren’t being careful.”

“How long have you known about this? And are you certain it's yours?” his father inquired. Jimin could tell he was fuming.

“About a month,” he admitted, “She’s nine weeks along, and yes, it's mine. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys sooner. We wanted to wait until the first ultrasound to make sure things were okay, plus it’s just been a lot to deal with.”

The concerned and aggravated woman laughed out of bewilderment, “Of course it’s a lot, honey. It’s a baby. I hope you have gotten a plan together by now. Are you going to be able to co-parent with her? How will this all work?”

He wanted to shrink into oblivion, “I honestly have no idea, Mom. And I know that’s not what you want to hear, but Y/N and I will figure it out.”

His father’s tone was the slightest bit gentler, “At the very least, can you tell us you are committed mother of your child?”

He answered quickly, wanting to appease them with something they’d actually want to hear, “We are deeply committed to each other and to being good parents together. I love her. This is the first relationship I’ve had that has grown slowly over time and I think that makes it different. She really knows me, all of me. And I know her.”

His mother sighed, “I’m glad you’ve developed strong relationship and that she makes you happy, but love alone doesn’t make for good parenting. You need a plan, Jimin, especially with your career. Stability is everything for a child.”

Finally, a chance for him to vent, “I know, that’s been the hard part. I feel like I’m failing them both every time I pretend that we aren’t together. No one even knows we’re seeing each other, and if they did, she’d get fired. How can I offer them stability if the options are to either keep it all a secret or to expose it and upheave our whole lives with a scandal?”

“Your life has already been upheaved, son,” his father said, “Becoming a father is the biggest change you will ever undergo, whether you are an idol or not. And it disappoints me to hear you call this a 'scandal'. Your son or daughter is not a scandal. Now I’m not thrilled with this news, but if you are going to make this work, you need to stop that kind of thinking.”

“He’s right,” his mother said, “Both of you must accept the repercussions of this, even though a lot of it will sting. Anything less would be putting yourselves over this child."

As embarrassing as this conversation was, their guidance was something he had been starving for. They had a way of giving clarity amid the disarray.

Deep down, he knew this would have to come to light someday - you'd both acknowledged that multiple times already. But now he had a different perspective:

The inevitable reveal didn't have to be scary if it was seen as a necessity for this baby's wellbeing. It was something that had to be done for the sake of raising a child with as much normalcy and steadiness as possible. Otherwise, his or her life would be nothing but secrecy and isolation. The thought of his child feeling like a burden that needed to be hidden away sent shivers down Jimin's spine. If the way to prevent that turmoil was to face the fire, then he would do it.

"Yeah," he nodded, "I needed to hear that. Thank you, even though I know this news isn't a talk you ever wanted to have with me. I'm sorry this disappoints you."

"We wish you'd been more careful," his mother sighed, "But your father and I love you and we will always do what we can to support you. It seems like you have hard months ahead of you, but being a parent comes with unimaginable sacrifices. If you can face them, it will be worth it."

The middle-aged man concurred before adding to the sentiment, "And we have no doubt that you have it in you to be a wonderful father, Jimin."

Unexpectedly, emotion consumed him. To hear that from his own dad meant more than he could have anticipated. He'd been torn up in a never-ending pendulum swing ever since finding out, going back and forth between excitement and fear. Such assurance from an outside party had been a missing piece.

Choked up but not quite crying, Jimin bit the inside of his cheek and then grunted, "Thanks, Dad. Thank you both. I love you guys and I want you to meet Y/N sometime soon. You'll adore her."

He couldn't see it, but his mother was starting to smile, "You really love her, don't you?"

"She's something else," he cleared the inner corners of his eyes with his thumb and index finger, "You'll see it after a only minute of talking to her...I did."

“And you said there’s already been an ultrasound,” she said, “Is everything going okay so far?”

He found himself unable to hold back a small grin, “Yeah, it’s going well. Y/N's been pretty under the weather lately, but she was told it's all normal."

"We will look forward to meeting her," his father said, "We will work out a day to come by. In the meantime, just bear what we've said in mind and take time to plan the next steps."

"I will.”

Both parties then said their goodbyes and hung up. Jimin set his phone on the desk and put his arms behind his head, inhaling and exhaling deeply. It was over with. He’d made it over that hurdle, and it went better than he thought.

He walked out of that studio room in much better spirits than when he went in. Even though he was due at practice in a couple hours, he went back down to the floor on which he started this morning. There were showers available for use, and he felt like he needed a rinse, feeling cold from the drying sweat.

On his way to the showers, he grabbed his bag, which contained a change of clothes for practice. It was waiting for him along the wall in the workout room. Thankfully, the other members were gone when he re-entered the gym, having finished their warm-ups.

It only took him a few minutes to rinse off, refreshing his mood. He washed his body while leaving his hair dry. When he came out, he changed into cargo sweatpants and a black t-shirt. He felt most comfortable rehearsing in baggy garments, allowing his body the maximum range of motion.

He folded his dirty workout gear and packed it away in the bag, then slipping into some sneakers and heading back upstairs to get something to eat. That’s where he figured he’d find the others, eating one of the private common areas.

On the way back up, he noticed some employees making their way into their respective offices. The workday was beginning. It made him think of you and how you might have been feeling that morning, not just physically, but emotionally in the aftermath of calling your parents. He decided to send you a quick text, asking how you were. He knew he would be seeing you after their rehearsal - you and Chaeyoung were coming in to take the guys' initial measurements for the tour concept.

Right as he hit send and rounded a corner, someone bumped into him. His grip on his phone slipped and it was knocked to the floor screen-down. Luckily, it turned out to be Jungkook.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Jimin sighed, "Wasn't looking."

Jungkook chuckled, rubbing his shoulder, "All good. I was just coming to look for you. You don't have to tell me what you're stressing about, but I know there's something and I'm going to make sure you at least eat, so come on."

He appreciated the concern, and it was valid, though he would hate to admit it. Jimin could forget to eat sometimes when experiencing strife.

Then Jungkook's eyes went to the floor, noticing that he'd accidentally caused it to fall. He crouched down to retrieve it, making the older internally panic and rush to get to it first. Unfortunately, his friend beat him to it. Innocently wanting to make sure the screen hadn't cracked, Jungkook turned it over.

The screen hadn't yet locked. He could see the text thread between Jimin and his new girlfriend and it made him smirk as he stood up, prepared to unleash some good-natured teasing.

Jimin’s stomach felt like it could have fallen out of his body. He tried to snatch it back, but it only made matters worse. It only confirmed that there was something to hide. With alarmed eyes, he surveyed their surroundings to make sure no one was seeing this.

Jungkook’s brows became furrowed as he scrolled a bit. It was nosy, sure, but he had to know what his brother was hiding. It was painfully clear that something wasn’t right. What he read made no sense to him, but then he saw a black and white photo.

The millisecond he realized, his eyes looked like they were going to pop out of their sockets. Jimin went rigid. He could feel his pulse in his throat.

It was nothing less than a blessing that Namjoon suddenly appeared, startling the youngest member into locking the phone and handing it back to its owner.

The two remained stuck in some form of telepathic eye contact. With a baffled gaze, Jungkook’s face was screaming out the question. Jimin had his lips pressed together and jaw tight, eyes begging him not to say anything.

The leader looked back and forth between them, “Hello? Everyone good?”

Jungkook realized his hands were tied. He couldn’t simply obliterate this giant beast of a secret out in this public hallway. He nodded his head, “Y-Yeah, all good.”

The panicking member was caught red handed. He shoved his phone back into his pocket, faking an unperturbed smile, “We’re fine. He just came to see if I was coming to eat.”

Namjoon wasn’t buying it. This was the last straw. Jimin wasn’t okay. There was something he wasn’t being open about. Even so, this wasn’t the time or place, “Yeah, come eat with us. You had a long run.”

As a threesome, they headed into the room that held the other members, all snacking on energy-packed foods to fuel them later on. Jimin joined them, but had no appetite whatsoever. His mind was too preoccupied with trepidation to send hunger signals. Jungkook knew the biggest secret he'd ever kept from any of them. He needed to do whatever he could to ensure he wouldn't divulge.

During the dance practice, he wasn't nearly as focused. He and Jungkook kept making eye contact in the mirror, breaking one another's concentration repeatedly. It made the rehearsal drone on, as they kept messing up the choreography. One wanted a code of silence, while the other felt like he needed to shout.

The physical labor ended after a couple of hours. When it was done, the members had a quick breather to cool off. After about fifteen minutes, you and Chaeyoung entered the room with your measuring tapes draped from your necks. Whenever you and Jimin were in the same room at work, you both made conscious efforts not to pay special attention to each other. The other members took stock of how good the two of you were at hiding your feelings.

However, when Jimin noticed you walking over to Jungkook to take his measurements, he couldn’t stop himself from looking.

You smiled at the man, who looked somewhat perplexed by you, “Hey, Jungkook. How are you?”

His eyes darted from Jimin and then back to you, “Uh, great, Y/N…How are you feeling? I mean, how are you?”

Unbeknownst to you, your boyfriend’s stern gaze shot upon him for that slip of the tongue.

You took the tape measure off your neck and began to wrap it around his torso, “Not too bad. Busy these days. I hardly have time for anything else.”

“I’m sure you are,” he said, well aware that Jimin was listening, “But even if you’re busy, it’s important to still make time for other things in life, like friends. Friends are so important, you know? I bet they’d be able to help you cope with whatever you’re struggling with, but only if you reach out. If you don’t, then what’s the point of even having them?”

It wasn’t a message directed toward you. The intended recipient, however, got the message loud and clear, and it vexed him. What did he think he was doing, using you to prove a point like that?

While making note of his measurements, you looked at him, lost, “Um, yeah. I guess that’s true.”

It was awkward, but there wasn’t much time to ponder about it. You and Chaeyoung had to get this information down quickly, before the guys had to run off somewhere else. She was busy taking Yoongi’s.

When you were done with Jungkook, you moved on to Jimin, only because you had to move quickly and Chaeyoung looked like she was going to do Taehyung’s next. He was the closest to you, so he was the natural next in line.

You grinned at him, “Hi.”

As was routine, he lifted his arms a bit so you could measure his midsection. You were already paying close attention to the tiny numbers on your tape when he greeted you back, shooting Jungkook a glare, “Hey.”

He thought about whispering a warning to you about the current situation, but decided not to. It would only freak you out.

Instead, he asked as you removed the tape from his torso and wrapped it around his biceps, “Did you get my text?”

Even though he kept his voice low, you hesitated to answer, “Yeah. I’m alright, just a little…bummed.”

The look on your face told him you were far more than bummed, “I called mine earlier.”

Your stomach did a flip, but you played it off as if you were having a casual conversation, using a muted voice, “How did that go?”

Jimin shrugged, smiling softly, “Honestly, not bad. I’ll tell you about it later.”

You nodded, recording his updated measurements on your notepad. In light of his parents' wisdom, your unwillingness to indicate that you were involved with him upset him. He wasn't frustrated with you personally, but with the situation itself. It crashed into him like never before - his love, the mother of his child, had to pretend she hardly knew him. And although he knew the reasons, it truly disturbed his conscience for the first time.

When you and Chaeyoung had collected all that you needed, you left. Yoongi and Namjoon went up to their studios to write, Hoseok following suit to record a demo. Taehyung and Jin went to a vocal lesson.

Jimin and Jungkook remained in the room together, much to the dismay of both. The former was firmly planted in one spot with no idea what to say or do. He wanted to rebuke the younger for speaking so candidly and thoughtlessly with you - that was far too hazardous for his comfort. Yet, he was at a loss. How could he be one to talk, when it had just been revealed that he'd been keeping something so enormous from them all?

Jungkook looked around the room, hands on his hips. The quick survey assured him that no one would hear them. He shook his head, tone surprisingly calm, "Hyung, I'm begging you to be honest now. I swear, if you try to squirm your way out of this I will kill you."

The older accepted his fate, but this place was nowhere near secure enough to have this discussion.

"Is Y/N-"

"No," Jimin stopped him, frazzled and alarmed, "Don't finish that question yet. I'll tell you everything, just not here. Please."

His eyes were so desperate that they bent the will of the other man. Jungkook pursed his lips together, annoyed to hell and back but still understanding, "Fine. Your place, then. Now."

Both men tossed their bags by the door once they got into Jimin's apartment, one out of aggravation, and the other with dread.

Not a word was spoken as they naturally gravitated toward the living room. Jimin waited to see where Jungkook was going to sit, so that he could sit opposite of him.

Both men got settled into a seat, wondering how this conversation was going to go. They were silent for a brief moment, collecting themselves so they could speak like adults.

Jungkook leaned forward, letting his forearms rest on his thighs. He was biting his tongue, giving it his all to approach this matter calmly, even though he was irate. He wanted to believe it wasn't true. There was no way Jimin could have done something like this, nevermind keep it from all of them. If this was what had been going on with him all that time, then he had to have known for a while. It would have been weeks of dishonesty - all those times he told them nothing was the matter.

The younger inhaled through his nose, "I feel like I don't even need to ask it now. We both know the topic at hand. Just tell me."

Jimin nodded for a moment without saying anything, looking anywhere but in his friend's eyes, "She's pregnant."

It was one thing to have seen the sonogram, but it was quite another to actually hear it come from his mouth. Jungkook pinched the bridge of his nose, "How far along is she?"

"Nine weeks," he replied, "I found out the night before we went to Jin's."

"So you have known for a while," Jungkook's suspicion was confirmed, "Why didn't you tell us sooner, hyung? God, this is...this is fucking huge."

The older huffed, throwing his hands up in irritation, "I don't know, maybe because this has been a crazy time for me and Y/N. I mean, put yourself in my shoes. Would your first priority be telling everyone? We have been literally just trying to make it through each day."

Jungkook took a deep breath, collecting his emotions. If the situation was reversed, Jimin would be nothing but supportive. He had to be smart about how he reacted to this news.

"Look," he said with a softening tone, "I didn't mean it that to come off like a judgment. I'm sorry. It's just, as your friend, I wish you'd have come to us sooner. We've been watching you struggle for the past weeks, wondering what was wrong with you. You had us convinced for a few days after telling us that you and Y/N were official, but then your strange behavior didn't go away. And to learn that this is the reason...it's a lot to take in."

Jimin dropped the defensiveness, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms over his stomach in some sort of self-embrace, "Believe me, I know."

"How are you doing with it?"

He shook his head a bit and let a minuscule smile break onto his face, "That's the thing I can't figure out. I don't think there's a general feeling. There have just been moments. When I'm with Y/N, I'm mostly happy about it. I feel like I wouldn't want to have a kid with anyone else. The fear creeps in when I think about everything else - our careers as BTS, the fact that she will probably get fired over this. The thought of becoming a dad doesn't scare me nearly as much as the consequences that will come from this."

For the second time that day, he became emotional. He tried to keep it concealed, but the crack of his choked voice gave it away, "I'm terrified that she will lose it all because of this. I hate that having my baby might ruin her career. I hate that for now, I have to convince the world that I'm not in love with the woman who is carrying my child. I-I can't be there for her like a real partner. I had to miss the ultrasound, and I didn't get to hear my kid's heartbeat, because I had to be at work. And I hate that when this all eventually comes to light, there will be a media frenzy on her, on me, and probably on all of you too."

A few tears started to roll down his cheeks and he buried his face in his hands, sniffling. Jungkook reflexively stood up and went over to him. He sat on the very corner of the chair and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, "Let it out. It's okay."

Jimin broke, "Everything negative in this situation has to do with me! It all traces back to the career I worked so hard to have! They always say there's a cost to fame, and we've all experienced that, but I don't know. I just never thought about this cost."

Jungkook rubbed his back, "I agree that it's your career, but don't equate that to you personally."

"How? I'm the one that chose it."

"But you just said it yourself - you never thought about this cost. That's no reason to beat yourself up," He said, "No one ever fully grasps the downsides to fame until they have it."

Jimin was settling down now, removing his hands from his wet face and drying it with his t-shirt, "It's hurting Y/N. She's been trying so hard to tell me that she's accepted the reality, but I can see it behind her eyes, Jungkook. She'll grieve the loss of her job, and I don't even want to think about her enduring all the scrutiny she will have to face."

"She has you," Jungkook offered a reassuring grin, "Now, I don't know about her family, but I know yours. They will support both of you wholeheartedly. And you'll have all of us too. You just need to tell the rest of the members."

Jimin nodded, "I know, you're right. Both of our families know now. There's no reason not to tell them. Just give me a few days to work it out with Y/N. I can't break the news without letting her know."

The younger man concurred, "That's understandable, but for your own good, consider doing it soon. I think it will take a lot of the pressure off your back, and I think you'll be pleasantly surprised by the support."

"Really?"

"Yeah, you're our brother. We will help you make it work. And you're going to be a dad. That makes us uncles, doesn't it?" Jungkook chuckled, "There's a cause for excitement in all of this."

Jimin broke into a small laugh, "I didn't think about you all being uncles. Don't know whether it's heartwarming or concerning."

"Only time will tell," Jungkook smirked, "So when's this little Park coming?"

There was a flutter in his chest at the nickname, "The doctor said January eighth."

"And everything's looking healthy so far?"

He hummed, "Yeah. Apparently, the heartbeat was unusually strong for his or her age. That made me oddly proud."

Jungkook nudged him playfully, "I mean, it only makes sense, considering how fit you are. Your sperm's probably the healthiest known to man."

He laughed harder this time, turning to give him a jestful smack on the arm. Jimin felt better now. Not great, but better. When the laughter died down, he breathed in deeply and let it out, “God, I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. When I said our parents know, I meant we’ve only just told them. Mine found out this morning.”

“Shit,” the other patted him twice on the back, “How did they take it?”

“You know my mom and dad - they weren’t leaping for joy, but it wasn’t awful. It ended on a good note,” he shrugged, “I just feel like this day is giving me whiplash.”

You got into the elevator in your apartment complex, letting your head rest against the back wall as it carried you up to your floor. You had a headache and had used up the last of your over the counter painkillers. Jimin likely had some, so you figured you’d eat dinner and then go to his place.

You felt like a towel that had been wrung out, twisted and squeezed of all energy and substance. You were desperately spent. The only thing keeping you fully present, ironically, were your mood swings.

If something didn’t go according to plan at work, you felt like you wanted to punch a hole in the wall, or cry, or both. Those were the lows. On the other end of the spectrum were short bursts of sexual urges. You prayed that you’d hidden it well enough while you were measuring Jimin earlier. Getting to touch him and examine his body like that didn’t do you your raging hormones any favors.

You put your key into the lock of your door and turned it, hearing the latch open up. Then you got inside and immediately wanted to vomit, not as a side effect, but out of shock.

The lights were on, and there were two faces sitting in your living room that you hadn’t seen in a while.

Speechless for a moment, you dropped your bag and froze in your tracks, “M-Mom? Dad?”

They got up from the couch while you remained rooted in place. Your mother was the first to give you a hug, but you barely embraced her back, far too confused.

“Hi, sweetie,” she sighed, “How are you feeling today?”

Your father hugged you next, “It’s been forever since we’ve seen you.”

You were shocked. Not even twenty four hours prior, these people were scolding you and telling you how disappointed they were in you. You stared at them, totally discombobulated. Your head was pounding so hard that you felt it in the back of your eyeballs.

“What are you both doing here?” You asked, brushing past them both and going into your quaint little living room. You needed to sit.

Your parents turned around and followed you back to their original places on your sofa. You were tucked into an armchair that was perpendicular to it.

Your mother leaned on the arm of the sofa towards you, eyes full of a lukewarm concern, “We came to have a much calmer discussion about this.”

Bringing your knees up to your chest, you asked, “You came all the way here just for that? How did you even get in?”

“You gave us a copy of your key when you moved in, remember?” your father replied, “Anyway, we aren’t happy with how we reacted to the news yesterday. We’re sorry we resorted to anger.”

Your mother sighed, “We love you, Y/N. And we realize that you are a grown woman now who can make her own choices. But as your parents, we ask that you please listen to what we have to say.”

You nodded hesitantly, “O-Okay…”

She continued, “We are worried that you aren’t considering the enormity of this, and the risk you are taking by placing so much trust in this man.”

You felt a twinge of exasperation, having had a sneaking suspicion that it was going down this route.

It must have shown on your face, because your father looked a little indignant, “Your mother is right. It appears as though you aren’t thinking this through. We don’t want to see you get hurt. Park Jimin is one of the most famous men in the world. He took advantage of you, as his type often does.”

You felt like you could have spat, “He did not take advantage of me in any way. Neither of you know him well enough to assume that about him. Jimin is a good man.”

“You are a stylist at his agency,” your mother scowled, “He knew that your position would make it impossible to disclose your relationship without putting your career on the line. He used you for his own pleasures, knowing you’d never say anything to anyone.”

Your father cleared his throat and looked down, unable to imagine his daughter fornicating with anyone, let alone a member of a global sensation like BTS. A man who had women practically falling at his feet wherever he went.

Your hormones made your reaction sharper. They were talking about the man you loved, the father of your child - denigrating him to the level of a scumbag and a womanizer, "You're both so wrong about him...I don't even know what to say. I told you already, we've been together for a year. If he'd had enough of me at any point, it would have been easy for him to toss me aside, but he hasn't. I know it's not what anyone would have envisioned, but he...he loves me. And I love him."

"We aren't here to argue over whether he loves you, Y/N," he said, "Our point is that he knows damn well how his job works. He's been perfectly willing to hide you away like some impropriety all this time. What makes you so sure he won't do the same thing with you and this baby?"

"Because he-"

You paused and closed your eyes, not wanting to finish your sentence for the sake of not sounding naive. They had you cornered and you hated it.

"Because he what?" your mother looked at you with sympathy, like you were some poor foolish girl, "Because he told you so? What good are words without action?"

You were so upset and exhausted that you felt tears prick your eyes. You looked down, "It's not that simple, Mom. In this case, action will cost me my job and who knows what else. We haven't figured much out yet, but I think we both deserve some credit for being committed to this anyway. We could have easily decided not to go through with this, but we did because we are dedicated to each other."

Your father put his hands on his knees, "And even if that is true, how will he ever be able to be there for you? I won't have my little girl stuck raising a baby alone while he galivants around the world and across every red carpet that would have him."

An angry tear rolled down your cheek, "He's not like that. I don't know how else I can convince you guys. Jimin understands the importance of being present."

"He missed the ultrasound." he said.

You shook your head, eyes closed, "Only because it was right after we found out and it was too late to change plans."

"Then will he plan on being at the next one?" your mother asked, crossing her arms.

You hugged your knees to your chest, "Yes, he will. We have a date scheduled in August."

She raised her brows, "You're telling us he will show up to a public doctor's office and risk exposing this?"

"W-Well, no. It's going to be at his apartment."

Your father scoffed, "You see? He's going to keep you and this baby a secret."

You were seething, "You know what? Yes, we are going to keep this a secret for as long as we can, because neither of us needs the media storming us while we're still trying to figure out our lives. Who would want to put themselves through that? But we've already agreed that it can't last forever - we just haven't worked out when we will take the step to tell the company and make an announcement."

Your mother reached out and put her hand on your knee, "Sweetie, we're trying to look after you, and our grandchild. We want you both to have a stable home environment."

"Well then what do you suggest we do?!" you shook out of her touch by standing up out of the chair, "It's clear that you guys won't be satisfied either way. We could keep it a secret forever or we could go public today - you'll continue to believe that he won't be there for me and that this is all a bad idea. So what? Would you rather me get an abortion or something?"

They were silent, looking at each other. You were a horrible mix of furious and embarrassed. It wasn't your intention to get so heated. You stubbornly defended your relationship, but you couldn't deny that their concerns were valid. You thought about the child in your belly. If you were standing in your parents' shoes, you'd probably have reservations too.

Then your mother looked back at you. She stood up and placed her hands on your upper arms, tone subdued, "We want you to move back home."

You were wiping tears from your eyes as you drove. It was dark outside now. Your parents got back on the road, and you followed suit. As you passed under every traffic light, you kept telling yourself to hold out just a little longer. You'd be there soon.

After pulling into the lot and parking your car, you glanced to your left, where the green-wrapped present sat in the passenger seat. Sniffling, you dried your eyes one last time and grabbed it, taking it with you into the building. You were walking with a quick gait, anguished and itching for some comfort. Fortunately, the gift in the box had the potential to bring you the solace you needed.

You took the same elevator as normal. When you reached the door, you fumbled in your pocket for the key, balancing the gift box on your thigh momentarily.

The door opened, and you heard something in the kitchen. He typically ate dinner around this time. When you appeared, he seemed delighted, but then he noticed the slight puffiness of your eyes. It was a confusing sight - you standing there upset while holding a gift.

"Hey," he put his wooden spatula down and turned down the heat on the stove so that his fried rice wouldn't burn, "What happened, sweetheart?"

He gave you a kiss on the cheek and searched the features of your face as you sighed, "Hi. I just had the longest, weirdest day."

You placed the gift down on a nearby stool and finally let yourself melt into his arms. Jimin kissed the top of your head repeatedly, "I did too."

You pulled your head off of his chest so you could look at his eyes. He was giving you an assured smile, but you still wanted to know what went on, "How come?"

His lips found your forehead before he brought you into his loving hold again, "Well, as you know, I told my parents about the baby, and then Jungkook found out by accident."

This time, you drew away from the hug completely, "Wait, say that again?”

Jimin scratched the back of his neck, “Yeah. I dropped my phone and he saw the sonogram photo.”

He saw how worried you looked and smiled, taking your hands loosely, “Don’t worry, he’s not going to tell the others. But this probably means we need to come clean soon.

You nodded, “Yeah, we should. I know it’s been hard for you keep it from them.”

“It has, but that’s a conversation for later. Tell me what’s wrong. You’ve been crying.” His eyes were plagued with distress.

“I…” you didn’t know how to start, “I got home from work and my parents were there.”

He dropped your hands, “What?”

You put you hand to your forehead, “Ugh, my head is killing me. Yeah, I walked in the door and they were just sitting waiting for me.”

Without you having to ask, Jimin turned around and headed to one of the cabinets, where he kept any medicines. As he prepared a glass of water for you to take the pills, he felt a pit in his stomach. This didn’t sound good.

“Were they that upset about yesterday?” he asked.

You took the glass of water when he offered it to you, holding out your hand to receive the capsules, “Not exactly. They came to have a better discussion about it…Only it didn’t really go that way.”

“Ah,” the hurt on his face was clear, “They still think it’s a bad idea, huh?”

There was no way you were going to elaborate on all that they said. You didn’t want to damage his feelings any further. You merely nodded, “I’m afraid so, but it’s more than that. They want me to move back home.”

He had only just started to stir his dinner on the stove again when he ceased any movement. The pit in his stomach deepened into an abyss, eyes leaking with dread as he looked at you, “But they live on the other side of the country, right?”

He couldn’t lose you. If you left, you’d be taking his child with you. And then what? How would you be able to stay together as a couple with that amount of distance? Everything you’d built over the past twelve months could crumble.

You saw how alarmed he was by the prospect and put him to ease immediately, “Yes, but I’m not going of course.”

He put his hand over his heart and exhaled, shaking his head a little, “God, please open with that next time instead of letting me think the worst.”

“Sorry,” you smiled softly before recounting their reasoning, “They say it would be best for me and the baby. I’d quit my job and live with them for a while. They think it’s the only way to guarantee a secure home environment.”

His expression could have broken your heart, and it was only scratching the surface of what your parents had said to you. Jimin kept stirring the rice, turning the heat back up a little bit. You knew him well enough to see that his avoidance of eye contact was due to a wound.

You took off your shoes and tossed them back by the door before coming to wrap your arms around him. Your cheek made its home on his sturdy back, "I'm sorry. They just don't know you yet. They haven't seen what this really is."

He sighed, his shoulders slouching. "I know. That's why I want to meet them and you to meet mine. I understand why your parents feel the way they do. And I know you're leaving a lot out to spare my feelings. That doesn't make it fun to hear, but I get it."

You held him tighter, "Then we'll find a time to meet each other's. Maybe even at the same time."

Jimin let out a subtle chuckle at the notion, and then went back to serious, "And you? Do you still believe that I can provide a secure home environment?"

You stopped hugging him, instead joining him at his side, leaning against the counter so that you could look him in his eyes, "I've had a little while to think about it. I think that the environment this baby enters will never be a normal one. You could quit BTS right now and the fame will always follow you. That automatically makes for an abnormal upbringing. But that doesn't mean we can't do things to mitigate that, and that doesn't mean we can't raise a healthy, happy child. Above all, it doesn't mean he or she will lack security. Jimin, you're one of the most loving people I've ever known."

A hint of a grin began to form on his lips. You put your hand on your still flat tummy, "Whoever is in here will feel your love and support every day. Because that's just who you are."

His smile became a little bigger, "'Who I am' feels more complete whenever you're around. Thank you."

You pushed yourself from the counter and craned your neck upward so you could kiss him, "You're welcome. Now did you make any extra for me? I haven't eaten yet."

He smirked and pecked your lips once more, "Yes, there will be enough. Grab a couple bowls, it's about done."

He dished out the meal for two and you ate in the living room, sitting on the floor and using the coffee table as the surface. It tasted like heaven to you, but you were mindful to eat it slowly for the good of your gut.

"Mm," Jimin's eyes went wide suddenly, "I didn't tell you about my parents."

You swallowed, "Oh, right. How was that?"

"Like I said earlier, not bad. They were shocked and I got chided a little bit, but I hung up feeling a deeper sense of purpose," he explained, "And I want to share it with you if it's alright."

You were intrigued by the uptick in his mood, "Yeah, please."

"They made me realize that I, and possibly the two of us together, have been so terrified to tell the company because of the consequences to ourselves. But those consequences are necessary if we want what's best for our child, so we don't have to see it as some horrible doom coming our way," he studied your face to see if it was making sense, "All I'm trying to say is that we shouldn't see it as this awful storm cloud hanging over our heads. That doesn't mean it won't be hard or painful for us, but we can at least take comfort in that we'll be doing right by our little one."

You smiled, "I like that way of thinking. You know, after seeing the ultrasound, I felt something of a bond form. I'd do anything if it meant he or she was saved from hurt, and I know we both agree that the secrecy would hurt."

Jimin nodded, "Exactly. You're such an incredible mother already, baby. I can't wait to have Doctor Yoon come here for the next scan. I hope I feel the same thing you did."

That reminded you - the gift.

"Oh!" you stood up, "One second."

He was puzzled for a moment, but then you re-entered the living room with the green present in your arms and an eager look on your face. When you first got here, he'd been so caught up trying to figure out what was wrong that he'd totally forgotten about this.

He grinned curiously, "Oh yeah, what's this for?"

You sat beside him on the floor and put it between the two of you, "For you."

He laughed, "But why?"

You shrugged, "You'll see when you open it."

He took one last bite of fried rice and then set his bowl aside. He removed the white bow first and then began to rip the paper off the box. His brows knit together as the item inside gradually became visible. You were pressing your lips together in anticipation.

When the wrapping was fully removed, Jimin read the outside of the box. Shortly, he was looking at you again, eyes spilling over with exuberance. You couldn't hold back the same expression.

You giggled at his speechlessness, "A fetal doppler, so you can hear the heartbeat."

"Y/N," he was beaming down at the box, "I don't even know what to say. Thank you."

You nodded, "I know you felt like you were missing out. With this, you can listen whenever you want. No need to wait for a doctor's appointment."

"Can we try it now?"

You grinned, "That's what I was hoping you'd say."

He shot up, taking the box and your hand with him. You laughed as you were tugged along into his bedroom. You both sat on the bed and he flipped his nightstand lamp on, giving the space adequate yet dim lighting.

You worked together to free the small machine from its encasing, discarding any extra wrappings. It came with a small monitor that would show the heart rate and had a button panel for volume control. It was attached to a cord with a wand at the other end. Separately was a tube of gel, similar to what Doctor Yoon used at your appointment.

It came with the right batteries inside, so all you had to do was turn it on and go for it.

You laid back on the bed, adjusting your pants so the wand could access the right location. You smiled and pointed at the tube of gel, "Okay, take a little bit of the gel and put it right here."

Jimin couldn't believe he was doing this, but he couldn't be more excited. He carefully squirted a good amount of the substance on your skin, "Now what?"

You giggled, "Just turn it on and use the wand to spread it around."

He found the power button on the side of the monitor and pushed it, making the small screen light up. Before placing the wand on your belly, he made sure the volume was turned up. Then he laid on his side next you you, head propped up resting in his palm.

When the wand first made contact with your skin, there was hardly any sound. Thankfully, it only took a few seconds of spreading the gel around to start to hear something.

Jimin's features were fully alert instantly. He found the right spot and held it there, enthralled by the pulsing sound. His lips parted slightly as he stayed in a state of motionless elation. When it finally began to register, he broke into a joyous smile, "Oh my God, there it is!"

You laughed, basking in his happiness, "It sounds just as strong as it was before."

The immense weight of the day was lifted from him. He leaned closer to your belly, keeping the wand in place, "H-Hi, baby. It's Daddy. I hear you now."

You were overflowing with adoration for this man. Once you saw his brown eyes glisten with gleeful tears, you began to get choked up as well. He couldn't help it. In fact, he didn't even realize it was happening until one streak came down his face. All that you'd both been through in the past month, and all that you would go through in the months to come - it would all be unimaginably rewarded when the owner of this precious heartbeat came into the world.

Jimin wiped the tear from his cheek and sniffled, turning his focus to you now, "Thank you, sweetheart. Thank you so much. This is…it means everything to me.”

You grinned contentedly, “It does for me too.”

The two of you listened some more. The thumping was persistent and even. You daydreamed in your own minds, alleviating yourselves of any stress, even if it was just for this one moment.

He laughed, “I can’t believe we made this little heart together. You might come to regret giving me this.”

“You love it that much, huh?” you giggled.

“I wont be able to get enough of it.”

“That’s okay,” you said, “It gives me an excuse to come over more often.”

He hummed at the idea, still intently focused on the sight of your exposed abdomen and the sound coming through the monitor. You then watched as his blissful smile faded, and his eyes fell into a contemplative state.

His voice sounded distant as the gears were turning in his mind, “Baby?”

“Yeah?”

“When is the lease on your apartment up?”

[ravenwolfie97]

raaaaughh i want to do voice actingggggg i wanna be an actor in the world aaaaaaaa

[musical-chick-13]

To whomever asked me specifics about theoretical Death-Note-but-mostly-women, I am Thinking™ about your question and very keen on answering it, and I appreciate your questions more than words can say, I just need (probably lots of) time to fully consider how everything would play out character-wise and exactly what would change.

[goldfades]

HAUNTED BY YOU──FATHER MAYHEW (part 2)

part one!!!!

─ summary | father charlie grapples with his intense attraction during the church event. they shared a passionate kiss that reignites their forbidden connection, despite the undeniable chemistry, charlie wrestles with guilt and the reality of their situation, ultimately pulling away as the risk of being caught looms over them. the tension between desire and moral obligation leaves them both longing for more, even if they face the consequences of their actions

─ pairing | father charlie mayhew x fem!reader

─ warnings | nsfw under the cut! mdni! oral (f!receiving), p in v, pretty rough but not as nasty as part one, praise (?), pretty soft/vanilla in comparison to part 1

─ ev's notes | my requests are open if you wanna send anything in! (please do btw i'm obsessed w nicholas LMAO). also i feel like there should be a part 3 but i'm not sure where it would go sooo

ok love u bye!!! pls send me requests!!!!!!

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my masterlist!

After your encounter with Father Charlie, your world had turned completely upside down.

You no longer wanted to attend seminary, not like you wanted to begin with. It had always been someone else’s dream for you, a path laid out by your parents, by the expectations of the community, by the life you thought you were supposed to live. But now, every time you stepped into the church, all you could think about was him. The way his hands had felt on your skin, the way he had murmured your name with a mixture of reverence and desire. It was as if the weight of everything you had ever known had shifted beneath your feet, leaving you standing on uncertain ground.

It wasn’t just the guilt, though that was there, gnawing at the edges of your thoughts. It was the confusion—the way you felt torn between the life you had always been told you should want and the inexplicable pull that had drawn you to him that night. You hadn’t planned for it to happen, hadn’t even fully understood what was happening as it unfolded, but now there was no denying it: something had changed inside of you.

You would be lying if you said that you weren't teasing the poor man, but you never expected it to go that far. His mean words, his rough touch... it was unexpected but welcome.

However, you avoided Charlie in the days that followed. But that didn’t stop the memories from replaying in your mind, unbidden and relentless. The rough sound of his voice, the way his breath had hitched when he looked at you, the feel of his lips against your skin—it haunted you, drawing you back to that night over and over again.

And yet, for all the confusion and turmoil, there was something else, too. A part of you that felt more alive than you ever had before. You couldn’t ignore the thrill of it, the way your heart raced when you thought about him, the way your body responded to even the thought of being near him again.

But what did that mean for your future? Could you go on pretending to follow a path that no longer felt like your own? Could you return to the person you had been before all of this?

You didn’t know.

All you knew was that something had been set in motion, something that couldn’t be undone. And as much as you tried to push it aside, to tell yourself it was just a fleeting moment of weakness, the truth lingered, heavy and undeniable: your encounter with Father Charlie had changed everything.

──

"I've just been worried about her." Your mother sniffled as she glanced up at Father Charlie. Her eyes were watery as your father nodded along, his eyebrows furrowed in worry.

Charlie did his best not to roll his eyes─he assured them that their daughter missing a few days of Church was nothing to worry about, she was simply exploring and that she'd come back if her heart was in the right place.

He wasn't sure if that was true though, he knew the true reason for your sudden absence—it wasn't that you were losing your faith. It was that you were avoiding him. And in a way, he couldn't blame you. After what had happened between the two of you, things could never be the same.

Charlie shifted uncomfortably in his chair, feeling the weight of your parents' anxious gazes on him. He offered them a reassuring smile, the same gentle, composed expression he had worn so many times before. But beneath the surface, a storm raged inside him.

"I appreciate your concern," he said softly, clasping his hands together. "But give her time. Sometimes a little distance can be healthy. She’ll find her way back, if it’s meant to be."

Your mother dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, her worry evident. "But Father, she's never missed church like this before. She's always been so devoted. I just… I don’t understand what’s changed."

Charlie swallowed, the words catching in his throat as he forced himself to maintain his calm demeanor. He could feel guilt clawing at the edges of his composure, the weight of the secret the two of you now shared hanging over him like a heavy cloud. He had tried to rationalize it, tried to convince himself that it was a moment of weakness, a lapse in judgment that would pass. But the truth was, every time he closed his eyes, he saw you.

"I understand your concern," Charlie continued, his voice softer now, more reflective. "But maybe she just needs some space to reflect on things. Sometimes, when we're too close to something, we can't see it clearly."

Your father sighed, rubbing his temples. "She's been so distant lately. I just don’t know what’s going on in her head anymore."

Charlie nodded sympathetically, though inside, he felt the sting of his own hypocrisy. He had been the one to create that distance. He had crossed a line he never should have, and now both of you were suffering the consequences. The temptation had been too great, the connection too deep to ignore, and now he was left trying to navigate the fallout, unsure of how to reconcile his role as a spiritual leader with the undeniable pull he felt toward you.

"Just give her some time," Charlie said again, though he wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince—your parents, or himself. "She’s strong. She’ll come around."

Your mother smiled weakly, though her worry remained evident. "I hope so, Father. I really do."

As they stood to leave, Charlie felt a familiar sense of dread settle in his chest. He bid them goodbye, offering them one last reassurance before they stepped out of the church. But as the door closed behind them, the air in the sanctuary seemed to grow heavier.

Charlie exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair as the silence pressed in around him. He had tried to distance himself from you, convinced himself that what had happened was a mistake. But no matter how hard he tried to push it away, the memory of you lingered, seeping into every corner of his mind.

And now, standing alone in the empty church, he found himself wondering if there was any way to make things right again—if there was any way to undo the damage that had been done.

But deep down, he knew the answer.

There was no going back. Not for either of you.

Later that night, Charlie found himself thinking about you once again. Particularly, how you looked that night. On your knees, so eager to please and your doe eyes gazing up at him. He couldn't get that sight out of his mind, no matter how hard he prayed. He clasped his hands together, leaning over the edge of his bed, his head bowed as if in prayer.

But the words weren’t coming—no matter how hard he tried to focus, the familiar rhythm of his nightly prayers refused to take shape. His mind was somewhere else, tangled up in thoughts that shouldn’t be there, lingering on images that made him feel as though he were coming apart at the seams.

He cursed under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut tighter as if that would somehow banish the memory. But the more he fought it, the more vivid it became—your wide, innocent eyes gazing up at him, filled with a mix of longing and devotion that made his chest tighten. The feel of your skin, soft and warm beneath his fingertips, the sound of your voice, so eager to please… it haunted him. The way you had knelt before him, lips parted in anticipation, had driven him to the edge of his restraint.

He should have stopped it. He should have turned away, sent you home, reminded you of your faith, of his vows. But he hadn’t. Instead, he had given in, swept up in the heat of the moment, in the way your body responded to his touch, in the softness of your breath against his skin. And now, no matter how much he tried to pray, no matter how often he begged for forgiveness, the memory of that night refused to leave him.

Charlie’s breath came shallow as he stood, pacing the small room in frustration. His fists clenched at his sides, the fabric of his robes suddenly feeling too tight, too constricting. He could feel the familiar ache building in his chest, spreading lower, and no matter how much he tried to deny it, the pull was too strong to resist.

He glanced toward the small crucifix hanging on the wall, a wave of guilt washing over him. He was a man of God—he wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He wasn’t supposed to let his thoughts linger on sinful desires, especially not desires for you.

But the truth was, no matter how much he tried to tell himself otherwise, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Your name echoed in his mind, and the memory of your touch seemed to burn hotter with every passing moment.

But when he closed his eyes again, all he could see was you—on your knees, so willing, so eager. The memory of your lips sent a shiver down his spine, and the guilt that followed only fueled the fire inside him.

And he knew, in that moment—the worst part wasn't the fact that he did those sinful actions—it was that he wasn't sorry, not one bit. Not even a sliver of remorse.

A chill ran through him at the thought, his stomach twisting with a blend of shame and something else, something that made him feel even more unsettled. It wasn’t regret that filled him when he remembered that night—it was a strange, unwelcome satisfaction. A hunger that hadn’t been sated, not entirely.

He had broken his vows, crossed a line he swore he never would. But now, in the stillness of the night, with only his thoughts to keep him company, he couldn’t help but acknowledge the truth. He wasn’t sorry. Not for the way you had looked at him, not for the way his body had responded to yours, and certainly not for the way his hands had roamed over your skin, desperate to claim you as his.

The worst part, the part that filled him with guilt and dread, was that he would do it again. Given the chance, he would fall just as easily. There was no penitence in his heart, only desire. And that terrified him more than anything else.

He had spent years dedicating himself to his faith, to his congregation, to being a beacon of moral strength and guidance. But now, the very foundation of everything he believed in was crumbling beneath him. How could he stand in front of his parish, look your parents in the eye, and preach about virtue when he knew what lay inside his own heart? How could he ask for forgiveness when, deep down, he wasn’t ready to give up the sinful thoughts that had taken root in his mind?

Charlie stood abruptly, crossing the room to the small mirror hanging on the wall. He stared at his reflection, searching his own eyes for the man he once was. But all he saw was the shadow of someone who had allowed himself to be consumed by temptation. He touched the collar around his neck, feeling its weight like a noose tightening with each passing second.

The worst part wasn’t the act itself—it was the knowledge that he would do it again. He would welcome it, crave it. You had awoken something in him, something dark and uncontrollable, and no amount of prayer or penance could change that now.

A soft knock at the door startled him from his thoughts. For a moment, his heart leapt into his throat, fearing that it might be you. That somehow, you had sensed his weakness, his need, and had come to him again. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as he crossed the room and opened the door.

It wasn’t you. It was another member of the congregation, a kindly older woman who often helped with the church's charitable efforts. She smiled at him warmly, oblivious to the turmoil raging inside him.

"Father Charlie," she said, her voice gentle. "I wanted to thank you for your sermon earlier. It was so uplifting. We’re blessed to have you."

Charlie forced a smile, nodding as he thanked her for her kind words. But as she turned to leave, he felt a hollowness settle in his chest.

He didn’t feel like a blessing. He felt like a man on the edge of a precipice, teetering dangerously close to a fall he might never recover from.

And the worst part? He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be saved.

──

Father Charlie stood at the pulpit, his voice steady as he delivered the sermon to the congregation. The stained glass windows bathed the church in a soft, multicolored light, the hum of his words blending with the occasional creak of wooden pews. His hands gripped the edges of the podium, knuckles pale, though his calm expression gave nothing away.

"And though we may walk through the valley of shadows," he said, his voice resonating through the high ceilings, "we must remember that God’s light will guide us, if only we choose to follow it."

His eyes swept over the familiar faces before him—devout, attentive, hanging on his every word. For a brief moment, he felt the usual sense of peace that came with leading his flock, of being their shepherd through life’s trials. But then, in the midst of that calm, the heavy oak doors at the back of the church creaked open.

You stepped inside, late.

Charlie’s heart faltered.

You moved quietly down the aisle, slipping into a pew near the back, trying to draw as little attention as possible. But he noticed you. Of course he noticed you. His breath hitched in his chest, and for a moment, the words on his tongue stumbled.

You didn’t look at him right away, your eyes scanning the prayer book in front of you as you settled in, but he could feel the electricity of your presence, like a whisper of something forbidden trailing through the air. His mouth went dry as he remembered, vividly and all too easily, the feel of your skin under his hands, the heat between you, the way your lips had parted in that fleeting moment of sinful indulgence.

His mind, usually sharp and disciplined during sermons, began to unravel, his thoughts wandering to places they never should have. His gaze lingered on you as you sat there, your expression neutral, but there was something in the way you held yourself that made it impossible for him to tear his eyes away. He noticed the way your hair caught the light, the soft curve of your neck as you bowed your head slightly. His pulse quickened against his will.

Charlie cleared his throat, trying to refocus on the words he had prepared, but they felt distant now, hollow in his mouth. He was no longer preaching to his congregation; he was struggling to hold onto his composure, his resolve crumbling with each passing second.

"Temptation," he began again, though his voice was softer now, as if the word itself held a deeper, more personal meaning. "It is something we all must face. It whispers to us when we are weak, it pulls at us when we are vulnerable. But we must find the strength to turn away, to resist the allure of sin."

His eyes found you again, and this time, you looked up. Your gaze met his, and in that single glance, he felt everything crash into him at once. The air between you seemed to thicken, heavy with the weight of what had passed between you. His breath caught in his throat, and he forced himself to tear his gaze away before anyone could notice the tension that hummed just beneath the surface.

But you didn’t stop looking at him. He could feel your eyes on him, a silent challenge, a reminder of the line that had already been crossed. He fought to keep his voice steady, but the sermon felt like it was slipping away from him, the careful words he had crafted now little more than a veil over the chaos inside his mind.

"We must… stand firm in our faith," he continued, though the conviction had drained from his voice. "For in times of darkness, it is only through faith that we find salvation."

Salvation. The word felt bitter on his tongue. Could he even claim to believe it anymore, after everything that had happened? After what he had allowed to happen?

The sermon dragged on, each word a labor, each moment a battle to maintain control. And all the while, you sat there, your presence like a burning flame in the cold of the church, drawing him in, tempting him with a kind of heat he knew he could never touch again.

When he finally reached the end of his sermon, the relief was almost palpable. He offered the closing prayer, his voice quiet, barely able to focus on the familiar verses. As the congregation murmured their amens and began to file out of the pews, Charlie stayed rooted at the pulpit, his eyes lingering on the spot where you sat.

But you didn’t leave with the others. You stayed behind, waiting until the church was nearly empty, until the last whispers of conversation faded away into the stillness. And then, slowly, you stood and made your way toward him, your footsteps soft against the stone floor.

Charlie’s heart pounded in his chest, the air between you charged with unspoken tension as you approached. The church was quiet now, the last of the congregation having departed, leaving only the echo of their footsteps behind. The light filtering through the stained glass seemed softer, casting shadows that flickered across the empty pews. But there was nothing soft about the way his pulse thundered in his ears, about the tightening in his chest as you closed the distance between you.

He should have walked away. He should have left immediately, before anything more could be said, before the unspoken words between you could turn into something neither of you could take back. But instead, he stood there, frozen in place, rooted to the spot by the weight of your gaze.

“Father Charlie,” you said softly, your voice low and sweet, like a secret meant only for him. The sound of your voice sent a shiver through him, and he fought to keep his expression neutral, though he could feel the cracks in his composure growing deeper with every passing second.

“Yes?” His voice came out rougher than he intended, strained.

You took a step closer, and the scent of your perfume reached him—something soft, floral, intoxicating. “Your sermon…” you began, but the words trailed off as your eyes met his again, and in that moment, he could see the truth in them. The same hunger that gnawed at him was reflected in your gaze, the same forbidden desire simmering just beneath the surface.

He swallowed hard, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. He couldn’t allow this to happen. Not again. Not here, in the house of God, where his entire purpose was to be a guide for the people, to resist temptation, to be the moral compass for those who sought him out. But standing this close to you, feeling the warmth of your body, seeing the way your lips parted slightly as you looked at him—it was as though the air itself was charged with electricity, pulling him in.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” you continued, your voice softer now, almost a whisper. “About temptation… about resisting it.”

His throat tightened. He knew where this was going, knew he needed to stop it before it went any further. “You should,” he managed to say, though his voice was strained. “We all must resist.”

Your eyes flickered with something—amusement, perhaps, or maybe defiance. “Is that what you’re doing right now, Father?” you asked, stepping even closer, so close that he could feel the warmth radiating from your skin.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper now. “Not like this.”

“And yet,” you replied, your voice teasing, “here I am.”

He clenched his jaw, every muscle in his body taut with restraint. He couldn’t do this again. He couldn’t give in to the desire that gnawed at him, no matter how strong the pull. But as you reached out, your fingers brushing lightly against his arm, the warmth of your touch sent a jolt through him that made it nearly impossible to think clearly.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” you whispered, your voice low and sultry. “Tell me you haven’t been thinking about it, too.”

He closed his eyes, struggling to find his breath. Of course, he had been thinking about it. He hadn’t been able to think of anything else since that night, no matter how much he tried to push it away. But acknowledging that would only make it worse, would only open the door to something darker, something he wasn’t sure he could come back from.

“I can’t…” he started, but the words stuck in his throat.

You stepped even closer, your body now just inches from his, and he could feel the heat radiating from you, could smell the faint sweetness of your perfume. “You don’t have to resist,” you whispered, your lips so close to his ear now that he could feel the warmth of your breath against his skin.

Charlie’s hands trembled at his sides, his heart pounding in his chest. He was standing on the edge of a precipice, knowing that one more step would send him over, would plunge him into something he couldn’t take back. He opened his eyes, his gaze locking with yours, and in that moment, he knew.

The worst part wasn’t the temptation. The worst part was that he didn’t want to resist anymore.

"Sweetheart?"

You both immediately jumped, putting some space between you two. You looked back to see your mother standing, looking between you two with suspicion. Charlie’s heart nearly stopped in his chest as your mother’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. His breath hitched, and he took a hurried step back from you, creating what little distance he could in the small space between you both. The panic coursing through his veins was almost palpable, his mind scrambling for an excuse, an explanation—anything to justify the intimate moment your mother had just interrupted.

You spun around, your cheeks flushed, eyes wide as you faced her. “Mom…” you started, your voice shaky, barely able to form the words.

Your mother stood just a few feet away, her eyes narrowing as they flicked between you and Father Charlie. Suspicion danced across her face, her arms crossing over her chest in a way that made it clear she didn’t believe for a second that what she had just walked in on was innocent.

“What’s going on here?” she asked, her voice tight with concern, but laced with an edge of disbelief. “Why are you here alone with Father Charlie?”

Charlie swallowed hard, doing his best to regain some semblance of composure. He stepped forward, trying to project the calm and collected demeanor he was known for.

His hands fidgeted behind his back, where no one could see the way they trembled. “Mrs. L/N,” he said, forcing a small smile, “I was just… offering some spiritual guidance. Your daughter has been struggling with her faith lately, and I wanted to make sure she was alright.”

Your mother raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. She glanced at you again, her suspicion deepening. “Spiritual guidance?” she repeated slowly, her tone skeptical. “That’s all?”

You nodded quickly, your face burning with embarrassment, desperate to put her at ease. “Yes, Mom. That’s all. I’ve just… I’ve had a lot on my mind, and Father Charlie was helping me work through some things.”

Your mother didn’t look satisfied, but she didn’t push any further either. Instead, she sighed, her eyes softening just a little as she looked at you. “Sweetheart, I’ve been worried about you. You’ve been distant lately, and I just want to make sure you’re okay. I’m your mother—I know when something’s not right.”

Charlie took a deep breath, seizing the opportunity to steer the conversation away from the dangerous ground it had been treading. “You have every right to be concerned,” he said gently. “But I assure you, your daughter is fine. She’s just been searching for some clarity, and sometimes, that means taking a step back to reflect. It’s a normal part of spiritual growth.”

Your mother seemed to hesitate for a moment, her eyes lingering on him as if weighing his words. Finally, she nodded, though the unease still lingered in her expression. “Alright,” she said quietly. “But… next time, sweetheart, maybe talk to me too. I’m always here for you.”

You smiled weakly, giving a small nod. “I will, Mom.”

Your mother’s gaze softened further, and she gave you a gentle smile before turning back toward the door. “Me and dad are waiting outside,” she said over her shoulder. “Don’t take too long.”

As soon as she was gone, the tension in the air shifted, leaving behind an uncomfortable silence. Charlie let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his shoulders sagging with the weight of what had almost just happened.

“That was too close,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you turned back to him.

Charlie nodded, running a hand through his hair, his thoughts still racing. “We can’t keep doing this,” he said quietly, though even as he said it, part of him knew it was a lie.

You stood there, staring at him, your breath unsteady as the reality of what had just happened sunk in. Your mother had almost caught you, and the danger of the situation wasn’t lost on either of you. And yet, there was still that undeniable pull, the heat between you two simmering just beneath the surface, refusing to die down despite the risk.

Charlie’s words hung in the air, a weak protest against what both of you knew was inevitable. He had said it before—he couldn’t keep doing this—but neither of you had stopped, even after that night. Even after everything that had followed.

You took a small step closer to him, your heart pounding as you fought against the voice in your head that told you to walk away. “You don’t mean that,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He closed his eyes, his jaw tight, clearly trying to hold on to whatever shred of self-control he had left. “I should mean it,” he muttered, his voice strained, but he didn’t move away from you. If anything, he seemed to lean in closer, despite his own protest. “This is wrong. We both know that.”

You reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles as he wrestled with himself. “Maybe it is,” you admitted, your eyes meeting his again, “but that doesn’t mean I regret it. Do you?”

Charlie looked at you, the conflict plain in his eyes, but the more he stared, the more that tension seemed to fade. “I don’t regret it,” he finally admitted, his voice low and hoarse. “But I should.”

You shook your head slowly, stepping even closer to him, the space between you almost non-existent now. “Then why don’t you?”

Charlie’s breath hitched, his gaze flickering over your face as if searching for an answer. The heat between you two was almost unbearable now, every inch of space crackling with tension, and you could see the exact moment his resolve began to crack.

He exhaled sharply, his voice nothing more than a hoarse whisper. “Because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a rush of warmth spreading through you. You moved closer, your hand sliding down his arm, feeling the way his skin shivered beneath your touch. “Then don’t stop,” you whispered back, your lips dangerously close to his now.

For a moment, the world outside seemed to disappear. It was just the two of you, standing there in the quiet, the tension and the desire between you growing stronger with every passing second. Charlie’s breath quickened, his eyes dark with longing as he stared at you.

But then, just as quickly, his expression shifted, a look of torment crossing his features. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this,” he whispered, his voice trembling with both desire and guilt. “You deserve better than this.”

You swallowed hard, your heart clenching at his words. But you shook your head, refusing to let him pull away now. “What I deserve,” you said softly, “is you. And I don’t care what anyone else thinks.”

Charlie’s eyes flashed with something—a mix of longing and torment—and for a moment, he looked like he might resist again. But then, something inside him snapped. He reached out, his hands grabbing your waist, pulling you closer in one swift motion.

Your breath caught in your throat as his lips crashed into yours, and for a second, all of that guilt, that tension, melted away in the heat of the kiss. His hands gripped your waist tightly, holding you against him as if afraid you might slip away. And in that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the church, not your parents waiting outside, not the fact that what you were doing was forbidden.

All that mattered was the way his lips felt against yours, the way his touch set your skin on fire, the way everything else seemed to fade into the background when you were with him.

The kiss deepened, an electric jolt shooting through you as Father Charlie held you close. His lips moved against yours with an urgency that made your heart race faster than you thought possible. You felt the heat of his body against yours, his grip possessive yet gentle, like he was trying to hold on but afraid he might break you. It was a contradiction, just like him—full of restraint, but also full of passion.

You let out a soft gasp as his hand slid up your side, brushing against your ribs, and the sensation made your knees weak. You had to remind yourself that this was real, that this was actually happening again, despite all the reasons it shouldn’t. Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to stop it any more than he could.

Charlie broke the kiss first, his breath ragged, his forehead pressed against yours. His eyes were squeezed shut as if he were fighting an internal battle—one that he was quickly losing. “This can’t happen again,” he whispered, though the way his hands still held you told a different story. His resolve was crumbling, just like it always did around you.

You nodded, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath, but you couldn’t bring yourself to agree out loud. The tension between you two was still thick, and the temptation was too strong, too intoxicating to resist.

You could feel his heart pounding against your chest, mirroring your own, and it was enough to make you lean in again, brushing your lips against his one more time.

“Then stop,” you whispered against his lips, daring him, challenging him to push you away.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he kissed you again, harder this time, as if the very act of pulling you closer was the only thing grounding him. His hands gripped your waist tighter, fingers digging into your hips, and you could feel the desperation in his touch. There was no hesitation now, no pretending that this wasn’t what he wanted.

You melted into him, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath his clerical shirt, the smooth fabric bunched under your fingers. It was almost surreal, the way everything else disappeared around you, the church silent except for the sound of your breathing and the faint echo of your heartbeats.

But then, reality began creeping back in, like a shadow over the two of you.

The weight of what you were doing came crashing down again, as it always did, leaving you both tangled in a mess of desire and guilt. Charlie broke away once more, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling with the effort to steady himself. His eyes were wild with conflict as he looked at you, his voice hoarse. “We can’t… Not here. Not like this.”

You could feel the hesitation returning, his conscience pulling at him once again. But before he could say anything more, you pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him.

“I know,” you whispered, nodding. “But don’t regret this, Charlie. Please.”

His gaze softened for a moment, and for just a second, it seemed like the weight of his guilt was lifting, replaced by something softer, something more real. He gently took your hand in his, pulling it away from his lips, and brought it to his chest, holding it there as if to let you feel the way his heart raced beneath your fingertips.

“I don’t,” he said quietly, his voice firm despite the uncertainty lingering in his eyes.

But before either of you could speak again, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway outside the small room. You both tensed immediately, pulling apart in a rush as if the entire world had just come crashing back down on you.

Your mother’s voice rang out, calling your name from somewhere outside, and the reality of your situation hit like a cold shock to your system. You glanced at Charlie, your pulse still racing, your thoughts a jumbled mess.

You sighed, stepping back, your heart still pounding as you adjusted your clothes, trying to make yourself presentable before stepping out of the room.

As you left the small space where everything had happened, Charlie watched you go, his chest tightening with the weight of his own choices. He knew there would be consequences to all of this—there always were. But as he watched you disappear into the hallway, a small part of him couldn’t help but want more.

And that terrified him most of all.

──

Father Charlie’s lips crashed against yours with a fervor that left you breathless, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you into the small, dimly lit room at the side of the church. The door clicked shut behind you, the quiet sound echoing through the silence as though sealing you both away from the world outside.

Your back hit the wall gently, the cool stone pressing against you, but all you could focus on was the heat radiating from him—the way his body seemed to burn with a need that matched your own. His kiss was desperate, almost frantic, as though he had been holding back for too long and could no longer control the desire that had been eating away at him.

“God, I’ve tried,” he muttered against your lips, his breath hot and ragged as he pressed his forehead against yours for just a moment, as though trying to regain some semblance of control.

But even as he said it, his hands roamed over your body, fingers trembling slightly as they traced the curve of your hips. “I’ve tried to stay away… but I can’t.”

His confession sent a shiver through you, both of guilt and desire. You knew this was wrong—both of you did—but the pull between you was too strong to resist. There was something magnetic in the way you fit together, something undeniable in the way his touch made your pulse race.

You gasped softly as his hands slid higher, brushing just beneath the hem of your shirt, the warmth of his touch sending jolts of electricity through your skin.

“Charlie…” you breathed, barely able to find the words as your heart pounded in your chest. His name left your lips like a prayer, one filled with both need and hesitation.

His response was a low growl of frustration, his hands tightening on your waist as if trying to ground himself, but his lips returned to yours with renewed urgency. The kiss deepened, becoming hungrier, more reckless, as though the two of you had crossed a threshold you could no longer retreat from. His fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt, pulling you even closer to him, your bodies pressed together in a way that left no room for anything but the heat of your desire.

“We can’t…” he whispered again, though the words seemed hollow now, an afterthought that barely registered in the heat of the moment. His lips found the sensitive skin of your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against it, and you couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped your lips. “But I don’t want to stop.”

His words mirrored the conflict that raged inside of you—this was a line that should never have been crossed, but now that you were here, it felt impossible to turn back. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, your body arching into his as his hands explored your skin. The soft rasp of his breath against your neck, the heat of his body pressed so close to yours—it was overwhelming, intoxicating, and it left you dizzy with need.

For a brief moment, he pulled back, his chest heaving as he stared at you with dark, conflicted eyes. “We’re going to hell for this,” he muttered, his voice hoarse with desire, but there was no regret in his tone—only raw, unrestrained longing.

You shook your head, your fingers still gripping his shirt as you looked up at him, breathless. “Then take me with you.”

That was all it took for him to lose whatever remained of his restraint. With a groan, he captured your lips again, his hands moving faster now, more urgently, as though afraid that if he stopped for even a moment, the weight of what you were doing might crush him. You didn’t care anymore, not about the consequences, not about what anyone might say. In that moment, there was only him, only the way he made you feel—alive, reckless, consumed.

His hands slipped beneath your shirt, fingers splaying across the bare skin of your waist as though claiming you entirely. The cold stone wall at your back contrasted sharply with the heat of his body pressed against yours, grounding you even as everything around you spun out of control.

There was no space between you now, your bodies moving together in perfect rhythm, each touch, each kiss driving you further into the dark, forbidden territory you both had sworn to avoid. But neither of you had the strength to resist anymore. His breath was ragged against your neck, your own heart pounding in time with his as the intensity of the moment wrapped around you like a vice.

"Gonna make you cum so many times," he mumbled into your neck as he pushed you harder on the wall.

You let out a small giggle at his words, your head falling back against the wall with a small thud. "Is that a promise?"

Charlie hummed against your neck. "Mhm, you won't be able to walk outta here."

You tangled your fingers into his hair as he spoke, pulling him closer, urging him on. You needed this as much as he did. Needed to feel alive, to feel something that burned beyond the lines of right and wrong. It wasn't just lust—it was a dangerous craving for connection, something that both frightened and exhilarated you.

"Please," you pleaded, breath hitching as his hands roamed higher. His fingers trembled slightly, betraying the struggle within him, but his resolve broke the moment you gave him permission.

With a low groan, his hands slid beneath your shirt completely, the sensation of his touch sending fire through your veins. Every nerve in your body was alight, the tension between you mounting to an unbearable high as his lips claimed every inch of skin they could reach. His breath was hot against your neck, the pressure of his body overwhelming, yet intoxicating.

Charlie’s mouth found your ear, his breath warm and labored. “I don’t know how to be anything else around you... it’s like you’re inside my head.”

You gasped as he pressed himself harder against you, your lips brushing the curve of his jawline in response. His words cut through you, filled with the same struggle and longing that burned in your chest. It was reckless, dangerous even, but it was real.

Without warning, his arms around your middle and picked you up. You let out a surprised sound as you wrapped his hips, before he dropped you right on the desk. The sensation of being completely in his control, suspended in the air for a fleeting moment, sent a thrill through you.

Before you could even process what was happening, he dropped you onto the desk behind you. The cool wood pressed against the back of your thighs as your hands flew to grip the edge, steadying yourself. The roughness of the gesture, the way his eyes burned into yours, left you breathless.

There was no hesitation in his movements anymore, no room for doubt or second thoughts. The desk creaked slightly beneath the weight of the moment, but neither of you cared.

Charlie stepped between your legs, his hands immediately finding your waist, fingers pressing into your skin like he was anchoring himself to you. His gaze roamed over your face, dark and full of hunger, before his lips crashed back onto yours with renewed intensity. His kiss was deeper now, more demanding, as though he was trying to erase every single barrier between you.

"Charlie," you moaned as you blinked up at him, your whole body feeling like it was on fire.

Your fingers tangled in his shirt, pulling him closer, needing more of him, craving the feeling of his body against yours. His hands slid up your sides, trailing heat in their wake as they pushed your shirt higher, exposing more skin to the cool air. You shivered, but it had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the way his touch set your nerves on fire.

“God, I’ve wanted this,” he growled against your lips, his voice low and filled with raw need. He leaned forward, his body pressing yours back against the desk, the weight of him intoxicating. You could feel the intensity of his desire, the way he held nothing back now, his control slipping with every passing second.

Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers exploring the firmness of his body beneath the fabric of his clothes. Every muscle tensed beneath your touch, responding to you in ways that made your pulse race even faster. You pushed his shirt up, wanting to feel the heat of his skin against yours, to close the distance between you even more.

His lips left yours for a moment, trailing down your neck, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. You tilted your head back, giving him more access, feeling the way his teeth grazed your collarbone, his hands gripping your hips with almost bruising force.

You could feel him hard against you, his desire unmistakable. The tension between you, the build-up of everything unsaid, was too much to bear anymore. You arched against him, needing more, wanting to lose yourself in the overwhelming heat between you both.

He then spread your legs further before practically ripping your skirt off, throwing it somewhere else in the room. He leaned down to press a sloppy kiss on your stomach before he slowly descended down where you needed him most.

Charlie placed two fingers on top of your clothed wet pussy, letting out a broken groan. "So ready for me, huh?"

All you could do was moan in response as your head fell back, your eyes screwing shut. The feeling of his fingers so close to where you ached, made you wanna scream in desperation. You just wanted him to fill you up and fuck you senseless.

“Charlie…” you breathed, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you felt in that moment. His name on your lips only seemed to spur him on, his fingers pushing deeper into your needy cunt.

Finally, he moved your panties to the side before slowly dipping a finger inside your sloppy pussy. Your back arched to his touch, letting out a pornographic moan.

Charlie shivered at the beautiful sound, his pants becoming impossibly tight. He felt his cock get harder every second, he wasn't sure how long he could wait—but he needed to taste you.

Keeping his finger inside your wet pussy, he leaned down and pressed his lips against it. With the added sensation, you were sure you were gonna pass out. Charlie slipped out his tongue, tasting your sweet juices as he hummed.

"Taste so fucking sweet, baby." He moaned as he opened his mouth to taste more of you. The taste was heavenly, he shut his eyes and began devouring you, his finger slipping in and out.

You were practically sobbing with pleasure at that point, your hand on his head as he ate you out like a starved man. Your pussy clenched around his finger, but you needed more. You needed his cock, desperately. He began rubbing himself against the wooden desk, desperate for any friction as he continued his assault on your puffy cunt.

You felt that familiar tightening in your lower stomach begin to form and you knew that it wouldn't take a lot more to make you cum. You began breathing heavily, your head falling back as you nodded desperately.

"Please, please make me cum," you babbled as you fisted his hair. "Oh, fuck!"

One last push of his finger and you were cumming around him, and Charlie wasted no time—he kept licking your juices until he felt he was completely satisfied. You were breathless from your high, but Charlie was far from done.

As you regained some sense of consciousness, you heard his belt buckle hit the wooden floor with a familiar thump. Then, Charlie’s lips crashed back onto yours with renewed urgency, fueled by your whispered permission. You could taste yourself on his tongue, humming at the salty taste.

His hands roamed over your body, no longer holding back, exploring every inch of exposed skin. You could feel the heat between you intensifying, the air growing thick with anticipation.

His free hand gripped your waist, pulling your body flush against his, and you could feel just how much he wanted you. The desk beneath you creaked again, but the noise was drowned out by the sound of your ragged breathing, the thud of your heartbeat in your ears, and the steady rhythm of his movements against you.

Charlie’s mouth continued to explore your neck, leaving kisses that sent shivers down your spine. He pulled back for a moment, his eyes locking with yours, dark and full of something primal. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he muttered, his voice husky, sending a thrill through you.

Your lips parted, words forming on the tip of your tongue, but they were lost as he lifted you slightly, shifting you further onto the desk. The sudden movement made you cling to him, your legs tightening around his waist, the closeness between you now unbearable in the best way.

Charlie then reached for his cock, you glanced down to see his redden tip leaking with pre-cum. He led his tip to your entrance, and he slowly began pushing himself into your warmth. Charlie let out a sigh of relief as his head fell back; he had missed the feeling of your tight cunt.

You were still sensitive from the previous orgasm, you were shaking at the burning and overwhelming sensation. "Please, Charlie," you didn't know what you were pleading for at this point.

Charlie let you adjust to his size before he began drilling in and out of you, the wooden desk creaking underneath you. You felt so full, you swore you felt him all the way up to your throat. Your hands found his broad shoulders, holding on as his thrusts began more erratic and desperate.

"This fuckin' pussy was made for me," he gasped as he began fucking you into the desk, the power of his thrusts making you cry out. "God made this pussy all for me, like a little present."

All his ramblings were going in one ear and out the other, you were absolutely drunk on his cock. You just moaned in response, unsure of what he was even saying at this point—Charlie wasn't sure either.

Charlie was snapping his hips against yours, he wasn't even thinking straight; he felt like a fucking dog in heat. All he could think of was cumming inside of your tight pussy again and again, until either of you could take it anymore.

"Oh, fuck!" you cried out as you felt yourself drawing closer and closer to your orgasm. Your pussy tightened around him, your eyes rolling back in pure and unadulterated pleasure.

You came again, your whole body shaking as you felt your legs give out. You were practically limp as Charlie kept slamming into you, chasing his own high.

After a few more rough snaps of his hips, Charlie was spilling his seed into you. He rode out his high as he sighed heavily, his forehead falling against yours. You were both breathless, but nonetheless satisfied. His breath was warm against your skin as he rested his forehead against yours, the remnants of shared intensity still lingering in the air.

Both of you were quiet for a few moments, still trying to catch your breath, hearts beating in sync. The room, once filled with hurried movements and ragged breaths, had now fallen into a peaceful stillness.

Charlie’s hand slowly trailed down your back, a soft, gentle touch replacing the urgency from earlier. His fingers danced over your skin, and despite the exhaustion that hung between you, there was a tenderness in the way he touched you now, as if he was savoring every second of this quiet moment.

His eyes, still dark with satisfaction, locked with yours, and a small, almost shy smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "You’re incredible," he murmured softly, his voice hoarse from everything that had passed between you.

You smiled back, your fingers brushing through his hair, still trying to make sense of the rush of emotions coursing through you. "Finally made me cum," you teased lightly, though your voice was soft and tired.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he pulled you closer, the warmth of his body a welcome comfort against yours. For a moment, neither of you said anything, just reveling in the intimacy of the aftermath, the unspoken connection that had deepened between you.

After a while, Charlie sighed again, this time more contented. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips soft and reassuring. “We should probably…get out of here before someone finds us,” he whispered, though there was no rush in his voice.

You laughed softly, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. You were still perched on the edge of the desk, clothes haphazardly discarded, with no sign of the wild passion that had just transpired except for the disheveled state of the room and the lingering heat between you.

But for a moment longer, neither of you moved. There was something comforting in the stillness, the quiet intimacy that followed the storm. Eventually, though, Charlie slipped out of you, shifting slightly and helped you down from the desk with a gentle hand on your waist. You both began to gather your clothes, the silence between you now comfortable.

With one last lingering kiss, you both finally slipped out of the room, the world outside waiting. But something had shifted between you—something that felt like the beginning of something more.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[akutasoda]

hold my hand, lean on me

synopsis - jiaoqiu adjusting to domestic life with you

includes - jiaoqiu

warnings - gn!reader, spoilers for 2.5, angst w/ some comfort, fluff, maybe ooc, wc - 1.3k

a/n: i actually cannot get this darn foxian out my mind :( shouts to @thelightofmylife for some vv helpful pointers and information ^^ tbh i feel like this is just 1.3k words of word vomit HAHA

the healers finished informing you of the situation, thanking them you then closed the door to the shared abode. a sigh you didn't know you were holding back escaped alongside a glance down to the papers the healer's handed over. you could read them later, the news followed by the details of it wasn't exactly a pleasant thought, if anything it might be a final push for the tears to start falling.

your thoughts were distracted by the sound of hesitant, shuffling footsteps. turning around, you were met with the sight of jiaoqiu standing idly not too far from you - almost as if he was taking in the surroundings, although now it was more him trying to piece together the memories of what it looked like.

jiaoqiu had arrived back at the yaoqing not too long ago, admittedly rather late, but the luofu's alchemy commission had kept him for a while. he'd been forced immediately to the yaoqing’s alchemy commission as they were now the ones responsible for his treatment plan for the future. a short talk with them had then led to him being escorted back home. to you.

upon arrival, some of the alchemy commission healers explained to you about the entire situation. they kept it short but soon handed you a full document containing everything from “patient’s injuries” to “doctor’s post-charge advice” - each and every sentence pained you more and more, you refused to acknowledge what would've happened if moze hadn't found him, you would have to thank him later.

the healers had asked you to take upon the responsibility of looking after him at home, and in most day to day life scenarios - at least until he adjusted properly. they asked you to keep strict to the “post-charge advice” as otherwise it probably would cause more harm to him, making his healing process longer and maybe even worsening it beyond healing.

“jiao-ge” you called out, to let him know that you were still near. it pained to see the somber look on his face. the last thing jiaoqiu saw wasn't anyone, anywhere or anything he loved. no. it was something he hated, someone he loathed in unfamiliar territory surrounded by no-one he knew.

now he stood in familiar territory, with the person he loved the most. but he couldn't bask in the sights or even see you. all he had was memories to cast images in his mind, to help pretend that nothing was wrong and that he could see what he remembered.

you knew that he wouldn't want you doting on him. jiaoqiu needed to adjust, to learn how to go about his life as usual and you overly fussing over him would only probably annoy him and prolong that.

it had been a long day, any proper conversations could be held tomorrow. to no surprise, jiaoqiu insisted he could get ready and do everything by himself. you granted him that independence. eventually, admittedly with some help, you two were ready for sleep. and even though you were right there beside him, jiaoqiu never felt further from you.

---✩

the process was slow. nobody would've said that it was going to be anything other than that. jiaoqiu very clearly wanted independence. he didn't want to seen as a burden, he chose to do this, and knowing that people were constantly doting on him instead of continuing with their lives made him feel awful.

one of the first things you did was help make your shared abode more compatible with his needs. an easy step was making sure that everywhere was clean and free of obstruction, normally moze always

showed up and helped with cleaning as well. another step was helping jiaoqiu become able to navigate the home on his own, mainly he acted on memory but you needed to make sure that where he frequented was always obstruction free.

occasionally you could hear a bump or hurried shuffling from the room over, each and every time you dropped what you were doing and checked up on him. it was never anything major and if anything it always resulted in jiaoqiu silently cursing at the piece of furniture he walked into.

you two always adopted a verbal calling system at home. should you need to leave the room he was in, you would tell him exactly where you were going and what you were doing - that way he knew where you were. jiaoqiu would also inform you of where he planned on going just in case something happened or he got lost.

although, admittedly, for the first couple of weeks jiaoqiu stuck to you like glue. to him, it was a way to quickly adjust and therefore he wouldn't have to be a burden for long. however jiaoqiu subsequently had developed a rather interesting habit, one neither of you addressed - you because you thought it was sweet and didn't want to embarrass him, him because he didn't want to admit it.

and that was him using his tail as a guidance. at home, it was either curled around your waist, wrist or leg. in public, it lingered around your wrist, so much so that it constantly tickled you. it was a way of him making sure you were there with him, you hadn't left him and he was okay.

although most admittedly it was worse at night. he would hold you close, an ironclad grip that usually you would ask for him to let up but you knew he needed this. tail curled around your waist, preventing you from escaping. in his opinion, you helped him sleep easier, much easier than any fragrances he was prescribed.

however, this always came with a risk. due to residual lupitoxin still in his body, jiaoqiu became frequently prone to nightmares which plagued him constantly. everytime his mind was tricked into believing that the borisin were waiting, patiently looking for an opening to get revenge.

he wakes up because of them, drenched in fear and swear, and because he's so fearful the lupitoxin can take hold easier. suddenly he's tricked into believing that the borisin have found him. unbeknownst to the fact that it's you. so you sometimes take the liberty of sleeping away from him, but then he wakes up to an empty bead but he can hear someone in the room over and when he finds out it was you, sleeping away from him, he becomes consumed with guilt.

a major change for him was his inability to cook anymore. jiaoqiu was determined to do so with his impairment but he needed to learn. nowadays you cook with him. instead of being hushed out of the kitchen, you stood closely beside him, handing him the tools he needed, telling him where you put them so he could find them again on his own.

gently reminding him to lay off the spices when he requested more, he was to avoid spicy foods at all costs for the time being. a hard change, one that he absolutely despised but he knew better than to go against a doctor's order. helping him go out and buy ingredients, listening to what he told you and carrying out the tasks diligently.

---✩

and that was a shortlist of changes. you were very happy to accommodate anything for him, so long as he felt comfortable and loved. it wasn't uncommon for jiaoqiu to experience major lows, it was only natural and you needed to be there for him.

to listen to him, to show him that the support he needed was always a simple ask away - you didn't want to push to dote on him for many reasons. but that was different to showing genuine care and love to him when he started seeing himself as a useless, dependent person.

life would be different. for a while or maybe even forever, perhaps feixiao would strike lucky in her search for a healer that knew how to help. but for now, you two would have to learn how to adjust. to be there for eachother.

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn

[apomaro-mellow]

some time travel shenanigans

Eddie thought the hardest part about time travel would be convincing everyone of that fact. Turned out he didn't need to do much convincing. Perhaps that was due in part to the fact that he was only from a few years ahead and thus didn't look too different from the version of himself lying comatose in the hospital.

His hair was just a bit longer and he had a beard now. But everything else was about the same.

No, the real struggle was holding back certain truths of the future. Of course, many of them had questions and the more logical ones reasoned that they shouldn't know anything unless absolutely necessary. So thankfully Eddie was spared from a constant barrage of questions. But even that wasn't the hard part.

The biggest challenge, the most difficult part of being here, was having to pretend that he wasn't head over heels in love with Steve.

To have to watch him from across the room and not be able to kiss, him, to embrace him, not even being able to hold his hand. And it cut him every time their gazes met. There was a question in Steve's eyes that he longed to answer.

The first night he spent in the past, Eddie could only think of his Stevie. How easily he'd been allowed to touch him in his own time. But he couldn't now. He had to wait. In a few days his younger self would wake up and the near-death experience would give him the guts to tell Steve that he was gay.

And then a few days after that, he'd reveal that he had a crush on someone. And then about a week after that, he would find Steve about to kiss another man and find the nerve to cut in between and confess.

Now that Eddie thought about it, he guessed he had to thank the guy who tried putting the moves on Steve. Having his feelings out in the open had made him feel more confident, stronger. And that passion helped aid in defeating Vecna's second coming. Eddie almost wished he knew who the guy was.

--------------------

Everything had been going just as Eddie remembered it. The Harrington house had become the base of operations, even when Steve's parents returned. The military set up too and while they helped stem the demodog population, they did very little to help with Vecna.

His younger self woke up, injuries healed thanks to the bat venom now coursing through his veins. His return came with a message from Vecna. One that was a riddle that Eddie already knew the answer to.

"I can tell you what he's planning and how to counter. But some of you won't like it."

"Um, hey, who the fuck are you?"

Both Eddies stared each other down and it was so quiet you could hear a cotton ball drop.

"Who was supposed to tell present-Eddie about future-Eddie?", Robin asked.

"I'm sorry, who!?", Eddie exclaimed.

"You from the future, try to keep up", Dustin said.

Eddie's eyes were glued to his so called future self. And then only tore away when he caught a movement on the side. Steve shifting his balance. Steve.

"Okay, if you are me from the future, I have some questions."

"Most of which I can't answer. Especially that one."

"So you're useless then."

"Give him a break", Steve said, coming to the older man's defense. "If he told us everything that'd mess with the whole space-time whatever."

"Continuum", about three voices said for him.

"Yeah the whatever."

"...How long has he been here?", Eddie asked, wondering just what his future self, someone who seemed more bold and comfortable in his body, got up to with Steve.

Older Eddie just shook his head and chuckled in a way that reminded him too much of Wayne. "I haven't been here long enough for what you're imagining."

And then things progressed just as he knew they would. He knew his younger self was about to go and tell Steve about his crush. He could recall it happening during a supply run and even remembered that Steve had been wearing a camo jacket with a soft blue shirt underneath.

Seeing them get closer just made him long more for his own Stevie. Was he thinking of him now? Sometimes Eddie met the gaze of Steve from now and wondered if he could see the future they had together.

---------------

Steve knew the other Eddie was hiding something. At first he thought it might be how the venom was effecting Eddie's body. But once present-Eddie woke up, that had been made apparent and he was still acting weird. Steve didn't think it was malicious anymore. But it was definitely something.

Sometimes he caught the other man staring at him. Other times they had to hand things to one another and his touch lingered, like he wanted to touch Steve more. Steve knew yearning when he saw it. He just didn't understand why it was being directed towards him.

He got an opportunity to seek out answers one night. A lot of people were housed at the gym as a shelter after the quakes. But life was more dangerous now and that meant a lot of patrols in a lot of areas. So when someone reported odd noises outside, Steve, future-Eddie, present-Eddie, and a few well armed citizens went to check it out. It was about half a dozen of them in total and they broke off into groups.

Nancy's group was the one to find the thing, kill it, and radio in that everyone should get back inside before it got too late. Steve grabbed older Eddie's wrist, stopping from following orders. They were alone now, having split from the group. There was no better time than now.

"You keep acting weird. Especially around me", Steve said.

"Well someone thinks they're special", Eddie grinned.

There was just a sole light on this corner of the building and it mostly shone on Steve, which was fine by Eddie. He was having a hard time schooling his expressions now that they were alone.

"Something happens to me in the future, doesn't it? Do I die? Is that it?"

"No, no Steve you don't die", Eddie assured him.

"It's not just the way you act. You say my name weird too. Do you really hate it that much? Hate me?"

"No", Eddie bit out, turning his body half away.

"I thought we were really becoming friends. You-he's told me things. Secret things. But the way you're acting now it's like things change between us. I wanna know why. Is it me? Did I do something?"

Eddie heard his voice hitch up and then clear and knew that was how his baby sounded when he wanted to cry but held himself back.

"Stevie, sweetheart, baby", Eddie breathed out and held his face and it felt like a weight lifted from him. Calling him just 'Steve' had felt like walking with dumbbells attached to his ankles.

Steve's shoulders relaxed too, like he had also been carrying a weight. "That's what you call me, then? All that?"

"All that and more, my love." Eddie's voice was hushed, afraid someone or something might overhear.

"So that crush Eddie told me about is...?"

Eddie nodded, eyes closing for a moment, glad that he could at least have this about being apart for so long.

"Then you know how I feel", Steve said.

Eddie's eyes opened and he looked into Steve's. There was that question. One that Eddie longed to answer but he feared it wasn't his to reply to. Not at this time. Not now. And yet....

"Please", Steve whispered, eyes flickering to his lips.

Eddie wasn't strong enough to deny him. Not as a dying man in a drought being offered a drink of water. Just as he was about to give him, he was shoved back. Hard. He saw his own familiar curls and bolted, and odd sense of deja vu hitting him just as hard as the shove.

"Steve!", present-Eddie unknowingly took his older self's place in front of Steve. "I have to tell you something. Something really important and I need you to listen, okay?"

"Eddie?"

"I'm a goddamn idiot. An absolute fool for you and it shouldn't have taken some other guy trying to kiss you for me to get the gumption to tell you but it did and there it is and I...and I..." His expression pinched. "Wait, who was that guy?", he turned slightly to look for him.

Steve touched his cheek and brought his attention back. "It was...it doesn't matter who it was. You're here now."

-----------------------

When Eddie next opened his eyes, it was immediately followed by his Stevie kissing him all over the face. Everything came back to him, as well as new pieces of information.

"Wait, so that guy who was putting the moves on you that night-"

"Was you, yes", Steve confirmed, face splitting with how big he was smiling.

"And you just sat on that for years? Wait, how does that even work, you knew it was me but it couldn't be me until I got back to do the time travel and-"

"Don't think too hard about it, babe", Steve kissed his temple. "Just be grateful something gave you the kick in the pants to do it."

[miss-dollette]

Makarov • Baby Daddy Headcanons

While Makarov is a psychopathic maniac without a care for anyone, he'd definitely never abandon his own. This man values loyalty above anything and will never forsake one of his own, especially his baby mama and his child.

A visit from Makarov would be rare, but when he visited, he always made sure to bring a gift for his baby, and sometimes, even for you. Nothing cheap, of course—a necklace worth thousands. See it as a reward for being an oh-so-good woman and bearing him a child.

Don't bother with work. Call in and never come back. Makarov has you covered for the rest of your life. He'd move you away from the dingy city and have you cozy with your baby in a house you'd never be able to pay off on your own. But you wouldn't need to worry about that - Makarov made sure to pay in cash to whatever sketchy realtor he knew would never reveal your location. If they did... let's just say they'd never sell another house again.

The new addition to the Makarov family would love their father. They'd cry all day in your arms, never stopping until their father's rough cheek scratched against their own, and he shushed them in his rough Russian manner.

The first time you handed over the tiny Makarov to their father would become a bittersweet memory.

"Make sure his/her neck is supported," you softly said while passing the baby into Makarov's arms, mindful of the delicate strength his/her little neck had yet to develop.

"Perfect," you said as Makarov gently held the baby in his arms, his neck crooked down as he watched his baby's eyelids flutter, their little pink cheeks, and tufts of hair on top their head. The baby tiny fist lifted into air, and Makarov placed his lips upon their tiny knuckles.

You leaned in and placed your lips on Vladimirs rough cheek.

He'd definitely pretend he wasn't obsessed with his newborn baby's scent. You'd walk into the nursery, and he'd shoot up from the crib and act like his nose wasn't all up in his baby's scalp.

He'd be fiercely protective of his family. No one, not even his closest allies, would know. Maybe Yuri, but he'd only tell him long after you gave birth.

If he had a son, he'd definitely plan to raise him in a macho-man way. Your son's fifth birthday gift would be a Russian prison knife from the Gulag. And no, he wouldn't care if you made a fuss about it being dangerous for a child.

"Now, why the hell would you give him that? What were you thinking?"

"He's nearly a grown man, and every grown man needs a knife."

"He's five!"

"I was gifted a rifle when I was five, so be grateful!"

Now, if he had a daughter, that would be a whole 'nother story. She would definitely be his little tsarina. All she would need to do is ask, and she'd have it in her little palm.

"She'll become a spoiled little brat if you keep spoiling her like that,"

"What, like you?"

"Not funny."

"Seems funny to me. Come, My Little Tsarina, let's go pick out one of your future cars."

He grew up poor and constantly surrounded by critters sneaking around in his home. He'd bring home stray cats to make sure no rats or mice would go near his baby.

Will sometimes sleep over. You'd both sleep in the same bed, and his razor-sharp training from when he was a soldier would come to good use. Any noise your baby made would wake him instantly.

He's paranoid as hell, so be ready for him to patrol the house multiple times a day. Your baby will grow up thinking it's normal for his father to have an automatic assault rifle in hand, walking around with murder in his eyes, ready to blow apart whoever dared target his family.

The baby would giggle every time their father passed by, and you'd watch boredly as he walked past. It got boring after the first ten times.

If there ever was a break in, God bless the idiot who did so. Not even his bones would be found.

Other than that, he's a cutie patootie when it comes to his baby. But like, a scary cutie patootie.

[worukin]

╭୨୧︰ prince yandere x servant reader

・✦⇢ working as a butler was something you did willingly. after all, serving the royal family earned you lots of coin. and you were such a loyal servant that the prince couldn't help but want to snatch you up for himself.

︰꒰1・ ( warnings ) — slight possessive behaviour, yandere themes, clinginess, pet names, lots of affection, showing y/n off like a trophy.

︰꒰2・ ( notes ) — originally intended to make the yandere a vampire but i wasn't too sure. maybe in the near future? ahh idk. but i do have things planned. anyway, a little something for being absent as i work on bigger drafts! ( word count: insert wc )

( if you are uncomfy with this type of content, kindly block me instead. this was very fun to write hope you enjoy <3 )

After a long time of working in such a place, you found your way through the maze of hallways covered with odd decor.

Sometimes there would be paintings of people who were nude and it did fluster you quite a bit. Or a statue of an unknown person, maybe even some vases filled with flowers. All to tend to the taste of the Royal family.

Now, you've been here for such a long time now and grown used to The Prince's silly antics. Always asking you to do your chores around his wing. Not that you minded.

"Oh come on Y/n~ Don't you want to rest a bit?" He cooed, laying on his stomach as he watched you with glee. "I apologize your Highness, but doing so would be overstepping boundaries."

He huffed as you continued to dust his room. Wiping the windows, adjusting the curtains, moving the carpet. Oh how cute you were in his eyes. "I wouldn't mind, you are my favourite little servant after all "

Eyes shined with glee when you turned away to hide the fact you were flustered. Such high praise coming from the prince made you giddy. "Please your Highness, picking favourites isn't fair." You sighed.

"Oh darling but you love it!" He exclaimed, a pout forming on his lips. The prince always did enjoy spoiling you with his riches. You hummed— though it was true you reveled at the fact you were his favourite, you weren't happy with it giving you a bigger advantage than the others.

You stepped back from the vase of flowers, cleaning up the roots you cut off. "I'm glad you think highly of me, but this is quite unprofessional." The last thing you would want is being banished by Her Majesty for being with the Prince as a servant and not a noble.

"Is my affections for you not enough? Perhaps I need to be more open." The prince gave a close-eyed smile at the thought of bragging how he had such a catch, a loyal passionate servant like you doesn't come around often.

Your brow lifted. "Open? More open how?" A confused expression formed when all you got in response was a giggle. "My apologies your Highness, I didn't mean to speak so informally."

The prince scoffed. "Oh please, you are my favourite. If anything I'm glad you're relaxed around me to speak like that." Heart swelling just thinking about being informal with you— maybe he could just take you away for himself.

"Awe, wouldn't you enjoy being alone? Just the two of us and away from such a stuffy manor?" He dreamed of waking everyday beside you, instead of waking to the sound of another servant's knocking. You didn't answer.

The loud ring of a bell startled you, reminding you of your duties. "Oh! My apologies your Highness, but I must go now." Hurrying out of his room you uttered another sentence. "Thank you for having such fondness towards me."

He giggled, waving a hand around. "No worries my dear, see you at dinner~" the prince sighed as you left, hearts in the air and in his eyes. "Oh my love, you don't understand at all do you? No matter, I'll lay it to you soon enough."

Various thoughts of hooking his arm around your waist as you attended a ball— everyone in awe at such a pair. Untouchable you both would be, a barrier between you two and everyone else.

He'd leave feverish kisses on your skin to tease and to relish in such jealous stares. That's right, you're his.

ʚ ﹒ ﹕ ̟乀 all works belong to @worukin, do not repost on anywhere else with or without credit, do not plagiarise. ty!

[steddieas-shegoes]

sounds like a date

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is sharing food' rated g | 743 words | no cw | tags: fluff, established relationship, flirting

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

"Can I have a fry?" Eddie asked with his mouth half full of the last fry he'd stolen off Steve's plate.

"Why didn't you just get your own fries?" Steve asked, handing him a fry from his plate.

"Because I only wanted a couple and you always share with me," Eddie shoved the fry into his mouth.

That was true; Steve always shared his food when they were having their usual date night at the diner. In fact, he pretty much only got fries because he knew Eddie would want some.

He preferred just eating his turkey club sandwich and smiling over at Eddie who always ordered two milkshakes because he could never decide on a flavor, a cheeseburger, onion rings that he complained were soggy every time, and a chef salad for balance.

Eddie never finished his food, or the milkshakes, but he always finished Steve's fries.

So it became an unspoken routine, something Steve wasn't even sure Eddie noticed even after months of doing it. Robin said he was a sap for doing it, but he didn't care.

"How's the chocolate shake?" Steve asked as Eddie dipped another stolen fry into it. "Good with the fries?"

"Yeah, but the strawberry is better. They didn't add extra chocolate syrup this time," Eddie half-pouted, as if he didn't complain about their lack of chocolate in the chocolate shake every time he ordered it.

"Can I have a sip of your Coke?" Eddie asked after another minute of stealing fries from Steve's plate.

Steve wordlessly handed his cup over, surprised it took him this long to ask for it. He usually asked way before he'd even started on the fries.

Eddie, as expected, took a few large sips, almost draining the rest of the drink.

"Why doesn't the waitress ever bring us napkins?" Eddie asked as he set the cup back down in front of Steve.

Steve handed him one of the napkins he'd grabbed from the table they passed on the way to their own. The waitress did always forget to bring them, so Steve prepared.

"You're so good to me," Eddie smirked, brushing his foot against Steve's ankle under the table.

Steve was pretty sure the waitress knew what was going on between them and just hadn't bothered to say anything, and the rest of the diner was empty. Their date night was pretty late, right after Eddie's Hellfire night with the kids that always seemed to go longer and longer. It was damn near midnight now, most of the town in bed, the rest up to no good somewhere else.

It was peaceful, being here with Eddie like this.

It was a look at a future they could have, at least a version of it, though neither of them planned on staying in Hawkins forever.

Steve slid his plate of the few remaining fries over to Eddie and wiped his hands on his napkin. "Finish 'em. I'm done."

"You didn't even eat any," Eddie pointed out before grabbing another one.

"Wasn't that hungry, I guess."

"Mhm," Eddie smirked knowingly, but didn't comment further.

"All set for the bill?" The waitress came by to ask, tapping her pen against the pad of paper. "Who gets it tonight?"

Eddie pointed at Steve, like he did every single week they did this.

Steve took the bill from her hand like he did every single week.

He pulled out his wallet, grabbed the $10 in cash he always kept there for date night, and handed it back to her.

Eddie waited until she walked away to pull out his wallet, grabbing $2 for a tip.

"You know at some point, you may have to actually pay for a date," Steve said as he slipped his jacket on.

"Maybe," Eddie shrugged, like he knew Steve loved paying for their date, made him feel like he could provide. Eddie joked it was his inner caveman. "Maybe I'll just take us on a nice road trip with all this money I'm savin'."

"Oh?" Steve froze.

Eddie looked back at him, beaming smile.

"Yeah. Next month sound good to you? A tour of diners across the midwest. Every night is date night. All my treat," Eddie suggested, like he'd already had this planned for a while. "I'd love to steal your fries in new places, Stevie."

Steve felt himself blushing, somehow always surprised at the lengths Eddie went to to make him feel so loved.

"Sounds like a date."

[riofann]

1. tempestuous

Authors Note: I am trying something new. I like this story line please give me your feedback. Only reposts and likes please don't steal my work. XOXO Rose

Tempestuous: characterized by strong and turbulent or conflicting emotion.

Sunday March 3, 2019 

This wasn't just some little miss understanding, this was sabotage at its core. It's why you found yourself in a random warehouse strapped to the chair bruised and bloody.

Rio was convinced you had been under cutting him for months, that the money you were washing for him was short for the past 4 months. He claimed you had been purposefully giving him fake money mixed with real money, which ended up with him having Mick point a gun to the back of your head as soon as you walked in your home. 

Any attempts to have him show proof that you were not were thwarted by Nick egging Rio on, unbeknownst to you.

You had mentally prepared for death mentally prayed that your mother and father, sisters would heal from this pain along with the rest of your family. You hear footsteps approaching your heart begins to race. You had memorized his gait along with Mick's, this was it. Your death day was here.

There's nothing said but you feel your legs being untied along with your hands, he made sure to leave the head covering on. 

“Get up!” Mick says grabbing your arm

You're too scared to move but a strong grip on your arm forcefully drags you forward.

You’re uneasy as you walk because you didn't know where you were going,  you couldn't see anything. Mick helps you step in the van. The drive is quiet, you sit with your hands on your lap, body shaking at any given moment you could be dead. All the thoughts rush through your mind, your bar, your family, your house, your future, it's giving you a migraine. When the van stops, your mouth dries up you could be on a bridge over water or a remote land with a shallow grave.  

When you step out Mick removes the head cover and your eyes take time to adjust. 

You stood at the park near your home. There's nothing said, you look behind you as Mick gets in the van and drives away. You take in the scene, you can't think of how happy you are to hear children laugh in the distance or the sound of people talking. 

It's all still a shock to you. You look around and find a bench. Slowly you walk towards it. You sit at the most remote corner, no shower for a week, you’re positive you looked like you were unhoused. 

Moments pass before you let the tears flow. The deep wound of betrayal that you felt wouldn't be healed by a simple apology hell you hadn't even received one.

After a while as the sun begins to set you stand up slowly. The walk to your house would normally be 20 minutes but since you are weak it will take longer,  and staying out at night wasn't your plan. 

With unsure steps you begin to walk home. You’re happy to not see any familiar faces at the park. You couldn’t handle any one asking you what happened or you would have implicated Rio. 

When you get home you type in the key code to  enter and find your home in disarray. You deduced that Rio was looking for the money he claimed you were shorting him on. 

You search for your phone and find it in the rubble dead. Your house doesn't feel safe, it feels surreal, like at any moment Rio could be sitting on the corner chair waiting for you with a gun in hand and Mick lurking right around the corner, ready to shoot.

After a little more searching you find the charger and plug it in.

When it turns on you see the many calls missed your workers, your mom, your dad, your sister, your cousin, unknown numbers 

You make the first call “Hello! Y/N?!” You hear your mom scream through the phone

“Hey mom” you greet

“Where the hell have you been?! We've been calling you for the past week and you just ignore us?! We were worried about you!” 

It's all too much you begin to cry she didn't know,  no one knew about what you were doing but Rio and his crew

You gather yourself “I'm sorry mommy”  you cut her off

She pauses, “What's wrong?” 

You take in a deep breath “I'm sorry I disappeared mom I won't do it again” 

“Do I need to come over?” she lived a few states away in Ohio

You panic “NO!...” you take a deep breath again “No! I just I needed time to myself I got stressed I won't do that again I promise” you master up a calm tone

She sighs “okay, but what happened? Did you get hurt?” 

“You know the bar and life I just got overwhelmed” you lie 

“Honey I'm your mother you call me when things get tough you don't just disappear!” we called the police!" She lectures. “I couldn't sleep! Y/N it felt like something wrong happened!” your stomach drops she wasn’t wrong 

“I'm sorry mom I really am I won't do it again” 

“Well I'm coming to see you next week”  

“Mom you don't...”

She cuts you off “Nope I'm coming, something is wrong I know my child!” 

You sniffed “okay” you looked at your shaking hands 

“Okay well let me call you back I gotta get in touch with the police and everyone else let them know you’re alright” 

“Okay mom”

“When I call you better pick up and don't go missing again”

“I promise I won't!” 

“I love you” 

“I love you too” 

You hung up and go through similar conversation with your sister and the manager of the bar 

When it all ends you drag yourself to the shower and take one of the longest showers you’ve ever taken, you couldn't help but sob the entire time. You scrubbed so hard a week with no shower in a dingy warehouse you felt so dirty. 

All trust had been destroyed so much for this “partnership”

You hope to be able to sleep but you can't. Your body is riddled with anxiety, with every sound you hear your  heartbeat spiked. You couldn’t even bring yourself to drink water or eat anything that's in the fridge. You just want to disappear, move to a small town in the middle of nowhere and figure things out. 

You received a text in the middle of the night 

Rio: Business as usual 

You had stared at it for hours 

Business as usual as if all that happened meant nothing. 

How could you get out of this? What could you do to free yourself from this and him? Maybe offer up the bar? But this is something you worked hard on, this bar was one of the top bars in Detroit you weren’t willing to give it up to him. You had to think about what life would look like outside of the bar and what did you want out of life? 

Slowly over the course of the week you clean up the house, you eat something here and there and you drink water when you remember. You’re not sure how you managed to clean up the house in the state it was left in, must have been adrenaline.  Even after your mother insisted something was wrong when she came to visit you, that Friday you  faked the funk. How could you tell her that you were deeply entrenched with a man who has a whole cartel like of criminals on his side? All the questions that would come from that. You would have to explain how Rio essentially twisted your arm to agree and how you stupidly didn't go to the police.

When you finally show up at the bar the following Monday  everyone teases about your disappearance and you play along but you have things to do, books to manipulate money to wash. You lock yourself in the office while you gather the money. You count over 10 times making sure it's right each time. You don’t trust the machine as it counts you run it through verify by hand run it through again verify it then set it aside. You added extra just for good measure because you didn’t trust yourself either. 

Wednesday March 13, 2019 

As you wait for him to show up at your usual pick up spot, you feel sick to your stomach, no more sitting down and waiting for him. All sense of security between you two had crumbled. A car pulls up and you grip the bag tightly. 

It's a strange face

Your phone pings 

Rio: Got busy, you’ll be dealing with Jamal moving forward

The man walks up to you with a smile on his face. “You must be Y/N” You nod, he hands you a yellow envelope you hand him the bag with shaky hands “Good doing business with you” he comments before turning to leave 

“Can you make sure it's all there?” you blurt out 

He laughs at your ridiculous comment “can’t do that out here in public lady, I’ll let Rio know” 

You nod again and watch as he drives away. 

This is your routine now, Rio never confirmed instead he would just add the extra back into your cut. You adjust to this new norm of life. 

You don’t see or hear from him for months, maybe it was for the best after all, you were angry with him you had every right to be. Well things don’t last forever and nothing is written in stone. 

Tuesday June 4, 2019 

Your stomach drops when you walk into your house that night, you feel the day you were kidnapped replaying itself. There was Rio on the corner chair with Mick lurking around the corner. 

“Not here to hurt you mama” he comments lifting his hands up to show that he wasn't there with malicious intent

You hadn’t left the door, in fact you were slowly inching away

“I wouldn’t do that”

“What do you want?” You ask in a shaky voice

“We need to talk” “You can text it” 

“I can’t” 

You sigh and close the door 

“I need your help” he reveals as you enter the living room. You don’t respond

“All that money I gave you, I need it, I’ll pay you back” 

You place your purse down “Why don’t you go get it I’m sure you know where it is”

He smirks because that was true  “don’t be like that mama” he tries to win you over 

“Don’t be like..” you pause “FUCK YOU RIO!” You scream “YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST SHOW UP AND ASK FOR MY MONEY, THE MONEY I WORKED HARD FOR?! WITHOUT AN APOLOGY WITHOUT ACKNOWLEDGEMENT OF WHAT YOU DID TO ME!?” 

He rolls his shoulders back “It's just business” “BUSINESS?!” You stomp towards him Mick goes to interfere but Rio stops him. You glare at Mick “WHAT? YOU DON’T THINK YOUR BOSS CAN HANDLE HIMSELF, HE'S THAT MUCH OF A BITCH?!” When you turn to face Rio a blank stare replaces his expression no longer amused by your anger, guess that insult wasn’t taken lightly “I’VE BEEN YOUR PARTNER FOR 2 FUCKING YEARS! 2 YEARS! AND NEVER DID I EVER SHORT YOU. I ALWAYS MADE SURE THAT THE AMOUNT I GAVE YOU WAS RIGHT! AND YOU WHAT? YOUR FUCKING COUSIN” he shifts uncomfortable that you know the details behind the scenes “YEA I FOUND OUT, THE MOTHERFUCKER YOU CLAIM TO BE UNTRUST WORTHY YOU ALL OF A SUDDEN TRUST HIM?!” 

He says nothing “YEA JUST BUSINESS THIS IS WHO YOU ARE AS A PARTNER HUH? YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT LOYALTY AND PRINCIPAL, FUCK EVERYONE ELSE SO LONG AS YOU GOT YOUR MONEY RIGHT?” You pause looking at him waiting to see any sort of remorse, regret, something, anything! However he says nothing, his face is stoic like you were complaining about nothing important. As the tears stream down your face, you accept that this was pointless, he was never going to admit fault and you were never going to be able to step away from this life unless you were dead or in prison.  You take a deep breath, defeated you say  “You know where the money is go get it” you step away and motion towards the direction. He gives Mick a nod. He says nothing else, and you watch as they both leave. As soon as the door closes a loud scream leaves your body as soon as they walk out. How were you going to get out of this? Maybe fake your death or  leave the country to start over in a small village in the middle of nowhere!

Nothing changes after that day, still dealing with Jamal and still trying to find a way out of things. You receive an invitation from Nick to some sort of  masquerade ball in the city to “raise” funds for local charities. Mayor "duties". You assume not attending wasn’t an option.

Saturday July 13, 2019

The day of the ball arrives, you booked a town car for the night. No point in driving yourself and as far as you were concerned if anyone wanted to hurt you they could because you had no safety net after all. 

You step into the space you have to admit Nick went all out planning this event because it looked like a scene from a movie. You find your table and take a seat. You know no one who sits at your table you take a look around and spot Rio. It was easy,  anyone could spot his tattoo from a distance. A few speeches, the auction, then dinner is served proceeding with the party next. You look down at your watch, you had spent enough time at the event and you were hungry. 

If there was anything you learned from Rio and Nick never trust them so the most you did was nibble on your dinner plate and take small sips of your drink. 

“This seat taken?” you hear from behind you making look

You smile “No”

“Great!” he pulls out the chair 

“Hi I’m Alejandro”  he extends his hand to greet you 

You shake his hand  “Y/N Nice to meet you” 

He bows his head “Mucho gusto cariño (nice to meet you dear)”

“So do you work with Rio?” He takes a sip of his drink 

Not again it felt like you were being set up “Why do you want to know?” you finally take him in a man the same age as Rio and Nick rocking a gold canine tooth with many necklaces and rings on his finger. Gold to be exact. He had a thick accent, you assume somewhere from Central America or Spanish speaking country. 

He waves his hand around his head “Rumors go flying around” You nod still unsure of the purpose of this conversation “And Majority of the women here are plus one to their boyfriends or husband wasn’t hard to find you, that dress you came in all alone, heads were turning” he shamelessly looks you over biting his lip

“What do you want?” this conversation needed to end quickly 

He smiles, it makes you uneasy “Oh I don't want anything....” he pauses “It's a shame that they put you through that” you shift uncomfortably “But now you know who they are, the Serraño family. This is how they operate, they are vicious, they don’t care how many lives they destroy, they don’t operate with any principals...” 

You cut him off “I have come to that conclusion” 

He stops and chuckles lightly “Anyway I’m a much better option, I honor my principals and partnerships. I will have people reach out to you next week. Maybe I can take you out to lunch and we can talk.  You don’t have to stick with them” 

You nod but look past him to see Rio staring at both of you. Even the women trying to engage with him were failing due to how his gaze was dead set on you and Alejandro.

Alejandro looked back following your gaze as an additional ‘fuck you’ to Rio he raises his glass as a toast before turning back to face you “Ooop! I’ve been caught” with that he quickly stands up “Talk to you later cariño” 

You decide that this is your cue to leave and make your way out of the building. 

Authors Note: Please leave your feedback, again please don't steal. Only repost, like, or give credit.

Oh I can also start a tag list just let me know.

XOXO Rose

[evangelical04]

A Single Daffodil || 2

Summary: Getting arranged to be married to your long-time crush wasn't exactly the fairy tale romance you were hoping for. Nor is the dynamic of the marriage, with your husband treating you like you don't exist. But you're going to make this work, whether he cares about you or not. And he definitely doesn't...right?

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Word Count: 9.1K

Genre: angst, romance, unrequited love, smut, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage au, businessman yoongi

Warnings: parental trauma, sibling trauma, toxic parents, unrequited love, explicit language, alcohol usage, yoongi's kind of mean, future smut

Author's Note: hi everyone! it's currently exactly 2am for me lol but I wanted to get this chapter out today! i was hoping to having the wedding happen but I like it more for the next chapter. all the support has been so overwhelming and amazing, thank you guys so much for all the love!! i appreciate it so much and I'm grateful that you all are so supportive, especially for my first ever fic. i really hope you guys enjoy this chapter! also, just let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist!

Taglist:

@yoongisducky @kam9404 @sumzysworld @tarahardcore @viankiss @babystarcandylovejk @ktownshizzle @futuristicenemychaos @igot7fairlyoddparents @baechugff @pb89nv @peachytokki @ratherbfangirling

previous / masterlist / next

You could feel your eyes glazing over with the amount of time you’d spent staring at your computer screen. A quick glance at the clock showed that only a couple hours had passed since you’d arrived at work, and a devastating thirty minutes remained until your lunch break. Rubbing at your tired eyes, you tried to find the energy to resume reviewing the materials your team had sent you, but you came up short. 

The wedding planning had been taking a lot out of you the past couple of months, even though your mother wasn’t letting you decide anything for it anyway. She had been quite clear that all you had to do was show up and that your input wouldn’t be needed. You couldn’t honestly say you had an issue with that, this didn’t feel like your wedding anyway. If it were yours, you would’ve been getting married to someone you love, and crucially, someone who loves you in return.

But that wasn’t in the cards for you and you knew that well, so you went along with your mother’s planning placidly, agreeing to almost everything she mentioned and getting ignored on things you didn’t. It left you exhausted, both physically and emotionally. It felt like an out-of-body experience every time your mother pulled you into another appointment for your dress fittings or makeup and hair test runs. You could feel yourself simply going through the motions and just waiting until the appointment was done so you could return to your mundane life. 

Not much else had changed, honestly. You were still working, hanging out with your friends on occasion, reading in bed, and watching television in the evenings. The only thing looming over you was the date of the wedding, now only six months away. It felt like an omen, always hovering near you, spiking your heart rate, and making you sweat. 

Even your team had noticed your heightened anxiety and expressed their worries to you, especially the youngest, Choi Song Ha. She was a cute, young thing, a fresh face in the industry that you had quickly taken under your wing once you had set eyes on her in the new recruit orientation you visited just over a year ago now. You knew just how quickly the gaming industry ate up and spat out women like clockwork and you didn’t want the same fate for her, so you’d snatched her up into your team. She truly felt like the little sister you’d never had and your bond quickly grew over the months since you’d met. She had picked up on your dampened mood and resolved to leave you small treats of a chip bag or chocolates on your desk every other day or so as a means to cheer you up. She knew you well enough to know you wouldn’t appreciate outright signs of concern or making a scene at work, and you loved her for it. 

She had left you a small red ginseng jelly this morning with a doodle of a grumpy cat stuck to it on a post-it note. It made you smile every time you glanced at it.

It kind of reminded you of Yoongi. The two of you hadn’t talked since that night in the restaurant, and you weren’t sure if you even wanted to talk to him. Your mother had given you his number and you’d saved it, but you hadn’t made any move to message him.

“Team leader?”

You turned, snapping out of your daze to face another one of your team members, Yeonsik. 

“Yes, Yeonsik,” you responded, trying to appear calm and collected, and not like you were just thinking about your soon-to-be husband who hates you.

“We have the materials from the character graphics department for Plan C ready, it’s in your inbox now. They said that they’re ready to make any changes you want, but they’re worried about the deadline for the second draft,” Yeonsik rambled. He was a nice man, only a few years younger than you, and quite passionate about his job since joining your team two years back, just after you’d become the team lead of Planning Group 1. He had a handsome face with longer, dark hair and bright eyes that were eager to please.

“Okay, thanks for letting me know. Also, good job on keeping Graphics 2 on track, I know they’ve been giving us a hard time with getting the updated designs over. Thanks again,” you said politely, sending him a small smile. Yeonsik beamed in response and returned to his seat happily. You chuckled fondly at his antics before opening the file he’d sent. You loved your team members and you held a high respect for them. You knew you led them well and that they respected you in return. It was a small team, consisting of only five people, including you, but you were content with the group and the dynamic. You often went out for drinks together after work, usually followed by karaoke and at least one member passing out, most often Yeonsik, who would then be picked up by his boyfriend. You were a close-knit group and you couldn’t imagine a better job.

Slowly, Mrs. Min’s words crept back into your mind at the thought of how much you loved your position. Surely, Yoongi wouldn’t expect you to quit your job? You wouldn’t be able to bear it. 

No, he said that he would do his thing and you would do yours, you reminded yourself. That’s right, you’d agreed that you wouldn’t interfere in each other’s lives. Except, you hadn’t really agreed, had you? You’d just acquiesced because he’d been in the motion of leaving anyway. You weren’t really sure if that’s what you’d wanted, living separate lives and being married only on paper. 

Yoongi’s words rang clear in your head as you gnawed on your lower lip, was this really how this marriage was going to be? The two of you not even acknowledging each other except at galas and parties where you had to appear married? You didn’t want that.

But…if Yoongi did, how much say did you really have? As much as you wanted to make this work, it had to be a two-way street. If Yoongi didn’t want anything to do with you, you would have to accept that and just try to get through this the best you could. You had said to Joohee that day you’d found out, that there’s nothing you can do to stop him. 

It felt painful to come to terms with, especially in the environment of your office where you still had to appear professional. Thankfully, you breathed, none of your team members had noticed your mini-mental breakdown. 

Your phone buzzed with a new message from Yujin, your mother’s assistant.

From Yang Yujin

Hello Miss Y/N,

Your mother has asked me to confirm your three attendees for your wedding invitations. The invitations will be sent out on Friday night, so please send your three names with their contact information and address to me by then. If possible, please send it at least one day beforehand as Mrs. Seo would like to review them before I send the invitations out.

Additionally, she has set up another meeting for you with Mr. Min Yoongi on Friday, at 6 pm. Please find the location details below.

Please let me know if you need any other information,

Yang Yujin

You sighed, reading over the email again. For one, you honestly didn’t even know who you’d want to invite. You didn’t really have that many friends outside of Joohee, your colleagues, and Jung Hoseok, your friend from college. You knew that Joohee would already be invited, but you weren’t sure about Hoseok. He wasn’t a part of the same social circle as you and Joohee, especially since he didn’t come from a richer family, but you’d met him in college and introduced him to Joohee soon after. The three of you had been practically inseparable during your undergrad but after graduation, the three of you hadn’t met up in person in a while, with Hoseok in Busan for work. You tapped your chin thoughtfully with the eraser end of a pencil, maybe you should send an invite to Hoseok. Suddenly, another thought occurred to you, making the pencil drop from your fingers and onto your lap.

You hadn’t even told Hoseok about Yoongi!

“Damn,” you muttered, making a mental note to call him later today. You’d figure out the other invites later. Your eyes drifted to the second part of the email. 

Another meeting, huh? It sounds like it’ll be just the two of us this time. I wonder if he’ll be any different.

A rap of knuckles against your desk brought your attention back in front of you. Song Ha stood beside your chair, looking at you curiously, “It’s lunch, Team Leader. Want to grab something with the team downstairs?”

Shit, you had agreed to grab lunch with Joohee today. 

“No, Miss Choi, I’ll be meeting a friend of mine. But you all enjoy your lunch!”

“Alright, have fun!”

The team slowly filed out, discussing amongst themselves what they’d get from the cafeteria today. You almost longed to go with them, but you knew you had to tell Joohee about the email you got. 

You could feel a headache coming on. 

Sighing, you stood and gathered your things into your tote bag, never having liked purses, and started the walk towards the elevators to reach the quaint cafe across the street you and Joohee liked to frequent. 

You had arrived before Joohee, which was to be expected with your office right across and decided to grab a table for both of you. Setting your tote bag in the seat beside you, you read the email once more on your phone. It dragged another sigh out of you before you almost jumped into the air at the sound of Joohee’s voice.

“What’s got you so melancholy?’

You breathed out to calm your heart rate from the mini jumpscare and looked up at her. She was dressed a bit more formal than you in a light blue blouse and dark navy dress pants that fell gracefully in silk around her long legs with a maroon purse hanging from her shoulder. Her office was much more formal than yours, working under her father. Your own office often had team leaders and higher-ups in jeans, the nature of your work making it more casual, so you contrasted her in a simple black sweatshirt and blue jeans. 

“I have to meet Yoongi again on Friday.”

“God damn.”

You nodded somberly as she took her seat across from you, “You remember what happened last time? Why does it feel like he’s gonna eat me alive this time?”

Joohee looked at you suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows.

You recoiled, shooting her a glare, “Good God, woman, not like that.”

Joohee relented, waving her hands in surrender, “Okay, well, assume he’ll be the same. Then you won’t be caught off guard. But I think you should still try to get through to him. Maybe, at the very least, you guys can become friends.”

You hummed in agreement, what she was saying made sense. You weren’t exactly hoping for a rom-com drama-like romantic relationship, but being friends wouldn’t be so bad. 

A waiter arrived, taking your drink and food orders, and you and Joohee fell back into easy conversation about your jobs and other small gossip. As much as you were trying to pay attention to what Joohee was saying, you couldn’t help your mind returning to Yoongi and his dark eyes scrutinizing you and his cold, biting voice. 

“Y/N?”

You focused back into Joohee and her concerned stare dug into you, “What?”

“Are you still thinking about Yoongi?”

You nodded, looking away. You felt bad for not listening to her especially when she had basically given you a solution to your anxiety regarding Friday. You heard her sigh before speaking. 

“Listen, Y/N, you can’t stop how he’s going to behave towards you. You can only control how you respond. I think your best bet is to try to tell him you’re not expecting him to treat you like a wife, but you want him to treat you like a friend. Unless that isn’t what you want.”

“No, it is,” you said, keeping yourself from burying your head in your hands, “And you’re right, that’s all I can do. Why didn’t you become a therapist, again?”

Joohee only grinned in response, “I’m too pretty.”

Joohee’s words from earlier echoed in your head for the rest of the workday. Did you really want him to treat you like a friend? Or something more?

You weren’t sure. Of course, you had this half-crush, half-infatuation with the man since you’d met him when you were younger, but marriage was a totally different game. Were you really ready to spend the rest of your life with a man you were attracted to but he couldn’t feel the same? 

Maybe he could.

You knocked that thought away as soon as it entered your mind, you shouldn’t be getting your hopes up. You knew that Yoongi was less than happy about the situation and the unfavorable circumstances would only serve to further distance him from you. You would have to be okay with just being friends if that. 

As you paced around your apartment later that night, you stopped in front of your dresser in your bedroom. In the third drawer from the top was the handkerchief that Yoongi had given you when you were younger. You had kept it meaning to give it back to him, but you had barely seen him since then, let alone had a moment in private to give it to him. 

Most of your interactions had been minimal conversations at parties and galas, often accompanied by Joohee and Seokjin. You couldn’t recall a time when Yoongi had actually talked to you directly in any of those scenarios. So why did your crush persist?

Maybe it was the innocence of your first meeting, the cliche of it all. You, small, sad, and alone, and Yoongi, showing up like your knight in shining armor. You had had a fascination with him since then, always trying to seek out his silhouette or pitch-black hair at gatherings afterward. Yet, he never approached you alone, nor did you make an attempt to do so yourself. You had called it an infatuation with Joohee because it really was, you didn’t really know anything about him, much less had a full conversation with him. Even when you were in a group with him, Seokjin, and Joohee, he would barely acknowledge you. 

Not that he was obligated to.

You fell back onto your bed and stared up at the ceiling, letting out a soft grunt when you hit the mattress. Would you be able to survive actually getting to know Yoongi? Your greatest fear was that you would fall in love with him, you were basically already primed for it. And that would not work out, you knew that, and you refused to consider any other outcome.

You couldn’t afford to get your hopes up.

Turning on your side, you could feel your thoughts drift to your few interactions with him growing up. He had always been polite, but cold. The most he’d said to you was a curt greeting and the barest of small talk. The only other interactions you’d really had were your first meeting and hearing about his escapades through the grapevine, mainly Joohee. Nonetheless, you found yourself infatuated, your eyes finding his slightly round cheeks and pouty lips inevitably. What would life be like once you got married?

You tried to imagine yourself in a domestic setting with Yoongi but quickly shut that down, that would only bring up unwanted feelings. You considered whether or not he would continue seeing other people after you were married. Joohee had said it was very possible. Would you be able to handle it? Joohee had suggested that you fool around a bit yourself but you had quickly dismissed that. Cheating was something you would never tolerate in a relationship, from the other person or from yourself. You knew that the reality would be different in your situation, but you still refused to let yourself stray from Yoongi.

Not that you hadn’t tried in the past. You had been in only two relationships leading up to now, one in college and another as a short burst after graduation. It all felt pointless when you knew you wouldn’t get to choose who you spent the rest of your life with. It was an agony that, along with other factors, ended both of your relationships. Mina had been a bright spot in your life, but she couldn’t deal with the fact that you were not only not out to your parents, but that you would likely not be able to be with her long term anyway. There had been other signs that the relationship wouldn’t work out, and you had tried to remain friends but it didn’t pan out past college. 

The relationship after college that had only lasted a few months was with Jaehyun, a sweet man who had been your coworker at your first job out of college. He was very kind to you and you felt comfortable in his presence, but you couldn’t handle the guilt of going out with him while knowing he wouldn’t be the one you marry. To his credit, he had been very understanding when you’d broken down in front of him in a guilt-fueled spiral. He’d held you until you calmed down, wiped your tears, and squeezed you tight before leaving, stating that you could always call him if you needed anything. You still messaged him sometimes, and you remained firm that if you did get to choose who to marry, he would be your first choice. 

The arranged marriage had been looming over your life since you were old enough to understand the importance of status to your family. You were sure Yoongi’s family was the same. You were both expected to keep your duty to your family, a repayment for the comfortable life you both had lived. Once or twice you had considered telling your parents you wouldn’t go through with it when the time came, but you knew that it would only result in you having to pay them back for everything they had ever given money towards for you. Even though you’d gotten multiple scholarships for college, your parents insisted you go to a prestigious university that rarely gave any money to their students because they knew their parents would have wide-open wallets. There was no way you’d ever be able to pay that back in your lifetime, especially with your current job. 

So you were stuck. But you knew you weren’t really all that unhappy. While the circumstances weren’t what you preferred, you couldn’t deny the small excitement that you felt at the prospect of being able to have a relationship with Yoongi. The caveat to that was also knowing that he was an entirely unwilling participant in this situation, which wasn’t really going to work to your advantage. You were set on remaining a realist, refusing to consider the idea that Yoongi might come to love you. It felt like you didn’t have much of any other choice. Everything about this entire situation made you feel like a passive observer, someone with no impact or voice, which wasn’t far from the truth. You imagined Yoongi was much the same.

Distantly, you wondered how many people Yoongi was allowed to invite to the wedding.

Speaking of! You had almost forgotten to call Hoseok, and it was getting late. You scrambled to reach for your phone, stretching your arm out to the nightstand where your phone sat, and grasping it. Dialing his number, you registered how low his contact was on your recent calls. You really needed to call him more often. Hitting his contact, you waited for the ringing to start. He answered rather quickly, which surprised you, as he was usually an early sleeper.

“Hey, Y/N! It’s been a while.���

“Yeah, it has. I missed you. Hobi,” you said, not realizing how much you meant it until the words left your mouth. It really had been too long since you’d called.

“What’s up? You don’t sound too happy. Is everything okay,” he questioned, and your heart warmed at his concerned nature. He was always able to read you well, better than Joohee sometimes. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine I guess. I’m getting married, actually.”

The other end of the line was silent for a bit before you heard Hoseok let out a breath and speak, “Oh, wow. Okay. How are you feeling?”

You choked out a laugh, “You’re not even asking who I’m marrying?”

“Well, I know that it’s not someone you chose. So I want to know how you’re doing. When did you find out?”

Your laughter died at his serious nature, your attempt at lightening the mood unsuccessful, “About two months ago. The wedding’s in around six. Want an invite? I get a whole three guests of my own choosing.”

He chuckled softly at that, “Of course I do, you know I’ll be there. But seriously, how are you feeling about this?”

You almost sighed at his unwillingness to let you escape his question, “I don’t know, honestly. I really don’t. I think I’m weirdly at peace with it? I’ve been expecting it for so long and now it’s finally happening. Plus, it being Min Yoongi isn’t exactly the worst thing ever.”

You could hear his surprise over the phone, “Min Yoongi? Like your crush of almost two decades, Min Yoongi?”

You groaned, responding, “Jeez, way to remind me how old I am. Yes, that Min Yoongi. He’s definitely not as okay with it as I am though.”

“What do you mean?”

You recounted the past meeting with his family to Hoseok while he patiently listened and interrupted occasionally to provide his own thoughts. When you finished, you could practically see him falling back against his desk chair, exhaling a burst of air. 

“Well, that’s a lot.”

You let out a short laugh, “Yeah, that’s been my life for the past couple of months.”

“I think Joohee gave you some good advice. I’d probably say something similar to you. Try to make the most of the situation but don’t expect a lot from him. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, “Yeah, you’re probably right. But, enough about me, how are you doing? How’s work?”

Hosek launched into recapping how busy the dance school he taught at had been lately and the gossip surrounding his coworkers. You felt yourself relax more into the conversation and slowly forget your troubling feelings surrounding Yoongi. 

You would deal with those come Friday. 

It was Friday. You made sure to leave work a bit early, giving you enough time to run back to your apartment to change and look presentable. You had chosen your outfit with Joohee’s help the night prior. You were meeting at a relatively fancy restaurant but it was more of a bar, so you didn’t want to be too formal. You had opted for a green dress with a small flower print since you were coming off the winter months into spring. Your dress was an A-line cocktail dress with a square neckline and puffed sleeves that cinched at your wrist. You’d had it for a while and knew how it looked on you, and you knew you would feel comfortable in it tonight. The last thing you needed weighing on your mind was getting in your head about how you looked, which you usually felt nauseous from. 

With it approaching six, you quickly finished up some minimal makeup, topped it off with a lip tint, and tried your best to make your hair look presentable after what was a long day of work. A glance at your watch told you that you didn’t have much time left, so you rushed to your car, almost forgetting your small purse, and started your drive over to the restaurant. You didn’t want to be late and make a bad impression on Yoongi, although you didn’t know if his impression of you could get any worse. 

After you arrived and were sat at your table, you checked your phone to see the time and were relieved to note that you were a couple of minutes early. You felt yourself relax into the booth and started taking slow, calming breaths to slow down your racing heartbeat. The adrenaline of trying to get to the restaurant on time was starting to fade and you took another glance at your watch. 

6:06

Well, that’s fine. He’s probably just a little late, you tried to reassure yourself, but you had a sinking feeling. As the minutes marched on, the sinking feeling grew deeper, and you could feel yourself growing slightly annoyed. 

6:29

Well, whatever.

You took out your phone from your purse and decided to message him. It should be reasonable, right? You had scheduled this beforehand, after all. Well, not you, your mother, but still, the principle held. 

You:

Hi Yoongi-ssi, this is Seo Y/N. I’m waiting at the restaurant at the moment 

and I was wondering if you were alright, since you weren’t here yet? Please let me know if you’d like to reschedule instead.

You winced at how the text message sounded more like an email between colleagues, but you weren’t sure how casual you were supposed to be with him. Before you could mull over the tone of your message more, you hit the send button and bit your lip as you waited for a response. Your fingers began to pick at your dress in a nervous habit and you kept your eyes trained on the restaurant entrance in case you spotted him. 

Finally, at 6:42, you saw the head of black hair that had haunted your dreams as of late. He walked in calmly, looking slightly disheveled, but his lax pace didn’t betray anything about his tardy entrance. He looked infuriatingly attractive in a well-fitted suit with the tie loosened and the top couple of buttons undone. His eyes met yours as the hostess led him to your table and you smiled politely at him, receiving only a cursory nod in return. The waitress quickly approached as he sat down across from you and took his drink order, two fingers of whisky, while you asked for more water. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to drink, more that you needed to keep your wits about you for this dinner and alcohol would only make you feel nauseous in your already anxious state.

With the waitress gone, he turned to you and you felt yourself flush automatically, something you internally cursed. You wished he didn’t have such an effect on you. He declined to say anything, so you took a moment to take in his appearance now that he was much closer to you. 

You could see that his collar was more rumpled than you initially thought and his hair a bit more mussed. You saw a small mark just barely visible from beneath his white button-up, above his tie. Now that he was much closer, you could smell a faint scent of a sweet perfume that you knew wasn’t yours since you had only worn a very light citrus one. 

Oh. He was with someone else. Why does that bother me so much?

Finally, he spoke, his deep voice lulling you out of your trance of staring at the mark on his chest, “Sorry I’m late. I saw your text, but I was driving. To be completely honest, I forgot about this.”

For a moment, his apology surprised you. For some reason, you hadn’t expected him to apologize. Maybe you’d built him up to be this cartoon villain in your head after your last interaction, but you’d forgotten that he was human just like you. 

“That’s alright, it’s no problem,” you responded kindly, noting the way his eyebrow slightly furrowed at your response, “How was your day?”

He raised an eyebrow at you in a questioning manner, “Are you really going to do small talk with me?”

You let out an embarrassed laugh at your failure to engage him and tried for a new tactic instead, “Okay, what would you like to talk about then?”

“I want to set some ground rules.”

Your surprise must’ve shown on your face because you saw the way his expression almost changed to amusement. You quickly shook off the abruptness of the statement and nodded your head, “Okay, like what?”

“First, you’ll be moving into my apartment. I’m sure your mother already told you,” you nodded, “Do not enter my bedroom or office without knocking. I’ll extend the same courtesy to you. Second, we keep our lives separate. Unless we need to appear at an event together, we shouldn’t be mingling our private lives, including friends, work, things like that. Thirdly, this marriage is going to be on paper only. Don’t expect me to treat you like my girlfriend, or my wife, because we both know that’s not what this is.”

You felt your teeth take in your bottom lip as you considered his words, “Okay, that’s fine, I guess.” You couldn’t really stop him from wanting to do that, but it still hurt some. Any hopes you had of getting a normal romantic relationship after this were quickly dashed by his next rule.

“Lastly, I want this to be open. Our parents aren’t pressuring us for kids, so we can both find relief elsewhere. We both know this is only for increased stocks and influence in our respective companies. So, I do whatever I want and you do whatever you want in that regard, and we don’t interfere in each other’s love lives.”

You felt your face fall a bit, but you tried to control your expression. You had prepared for this, Joohee had prepared you for this. So why were you still so upset? He’s giving you the go-ahead to find whoever you want, so it’s not technically cheating. So why does it still feel so wrong?

“Okay,” you said uneasily, “That’s all okay.” It felt like you were saying it more for yourself than for him. 

His eyebrow quirked once more. They were very expressive, you noticed. 

“That’s it? You don’t have any rules of your own you want to add in?”

Your hands clenched onto the edge of the booth seat, needing something to ground you. Rules of your own? Your head was swimming with everything that had just happened, you could barely think of anything else, “No, none I want to add.”

Yoongi leaned back and clasped his hands, “Alright then. Shall we eat? My dad’s technically paying so eat all you want.”

You shakily took hold of the menu you’d already looked over a hundred times while waiting for him, not wanting to appear rude by being on your phone. You had already chosen what dish you wanted when Yujin had sent you the restaurant name, a habit of yours being to look up the menu beforehand to choose. The waitress approached and took your orders, taking the menu from your hands, leaving you with nothing to grasp your quivering fingers onto. 

You looked over at Yoongi, seeing him on his phone, scrolling. You felt yourself blanch at the blatant disregard and couldn’t find it in yourself to try and start a conversation. 

The minutes passed by slowly, and you were barely relieved when the food came, providing momentary respite by giving you something to do. You felt like you’d never been in a more awkward situation. The waitress quickly refilled both your drinks, and you noted that Yoongi had ordered water this time. It must be because he’s driving. 

Soon, the both of you finished your food, in utter silence. The waitress, who was quite on top of her game, swiftly provided the bill and told you to take your time. You had a feeling she felt the awkward tension as much as you did.

Once the bill was paid, you and Yoongi walked out towards the parking lot where he started shifting to move in the direction of his car before you blurted out, “Wait!”

He turned, facing you with a bored expression, waiting for you to finish speaking.

“I do have a rule actually.”

Seeming slightly intrigued now, he gestured for you to continue.

“I want us to try and be friends. Please.”

He seemed slightly surprised, judging by the way his eyebrows lifted slightly and his mouth parted. Collecting himself, he looked directly into your eyes, his dark orbs boring into your own, “No. I want us to keep our lives completely separate. We’re not friends.”

With that, he turned around and walked to his car, not sparing you another glance. 

“Wow, what an asshole.”

You hummed lazily in agreement, feeling your head lull. You were already a bottle deep in more cheap Moscato with Joohee, as well as a couple of shots of strawberry soju. 

“I know right! I agreed to whatever he said, why couldn’t he agree with the one thing I asked for?”

Joohee winced and prepared herself for your buzzed anger that was sure to flare up at her next statement, “Well, he wasn’t exactly wrong. It did conflict with his other rule. Not that I think he’s justified either. There shouldn’t be a problem in being friends.”

Your head snapped towards her, seeing it as a defensive move for Yoongi in your half-drunken state, but before you could find the energy to get upset, you felt yourself melt further into the couch, “Yeah, you’re right, I guess. Whatever, I don’t need him. I’ll just fuck anyone who looks my way, instead.”

“No, you won’t.”

“No, I won’t,” you cried, collapsing onto the pillow beside you, squeezing it tight, “Why am I so pathetic?”

“You’re not,” Joohee cooed, “You’re just in a shitty situation. So is he, but at least you’re not being a dick about it.”

You nodded glumly, still not feeling better about the situation. As you cradled the now-empty wine bottle to your chest, you remembered Hoseok.

“Oh yeah, I invited Hobi for the wedding. My coworker, Song Ha too. Can you believe I couldn’t think of a third person?”

Joohee laughed before throwing herself onto the couch with you, “Hey, you don’t need other friends, you have me. Besides, we’ll all be together again, then! It feels like forever since we’ve seen him.”

“Yeah, I told him and he said the same stuff as you. To try and make the best of it, or whatever,” you could feel yourself becoming less and less sober, “Can I crash here tonight?”

“Of course, do you want me to wash your dress for you?”

“No, I’ll just do it at my place. Thank God I have you.”

Joohee only laughed loudly in response, getting up to grab another bottle of soju from the fridge. The two of you lounged around before moving to watch TV in Joohee’s bed where she promptly fell asleep. Soothed by her snoring, you relaxed into her comfortable mattress and traced the light extrusions on her ceiling. Your thoughts soon drifted to Yoongi, as they seemed to do often these days. 

Was he really fair in rejecting your friendship? Joohee had made a good point earlier in that it certainly conflicted with his rule of ignoring each other outside of obligated functions. But…you didn’t want that. So why did you agree? In the moment, it hadn’t really felt like you’d had another choice. You seemed to be feeling like that a lot lately. 

Yoongi seemed serious about this marriage being for business only and you knew that you didn’t want that, but you couldn’t exactly tell him as such. You couldn’t be more sure that he would only be disgusted if he heard you say that and you didn’t think you’d be able to survive seeing that kind of emotion on his face when it’s directed towards you. 

Not that you’d be able to survive this marriage either. 

Your fingers toyed with the frayed hem of the sleep shorts you’d borrowed from Joohee, a frequent occurrence whenever you stayed over, and you saw her shift in her sleep. She really had been so supportive throughout this whole thing. 

Maybe you should go to her brother for help? No, Yoongi would probably hate that. 

You resisted the urge to kick your feet in frustration out of fear of waking up Joohee. This was so difficult, it was next to impossible to figure out what your next move should be. 

You had a nagging feeling that your mother wouldn’t force you to meet up with Yoongi anymore before the wedding, but why did that not feel like a clear-cut win? Did you want to meet with Yoongi again?

Rubbing at your eyes frantically, you pushed aside the flurry of questions stirring inside you. You didn’t have time to deal with this. There was a large project at work that was in its final stages that you needed your full attention on and then the final beta tests before the official launch, just weeks before your wedding. You couldn’t afford to spend another moment thinking about Yoongi. 

As you got more comfortable in Joohee’s bed, you turned your head to face the clock on her bedside table, reading 3:09 AM. 

A sigh escaped your lips as you forced your eyes closed to try and get some rest. 

You had an inkling that Yoongi would be occupying your thoughts whether you wanted it or not. 

“We’ll be meeting for the rehearsal dinner in one week, Yujin will send you the information and instructions. Don’t be late.”

Your mother’s voice cut off after that, not bothering to say goodbye before ending the call. You could feel your headache coming back and you fumbled for your water bottle before getting up to grab a red ginseng packet from the breakroom. Things had been a lot lately. 

The final preparations for the wedding were underway and your mother was leaving nothing to chance. Your dress had been fitted to perfection with your mother sending you a strict diet and workout plan to make sure you stayed the exact same size until the wedding. That email had been swiftly archived. 

You weren’t even sure of who was in your bridal party other than Joohee being your maid of honor. Not that it mattered. This wedding wasn’t for you anyway. 

As you slowly sucked out the paste from the ginseng packet, leaning against the break room counter, you wondered if Yoongi had had to go through similar procedures, though likely less extensive. You hadn’t heard from him since that dinner where he’d firmly placed a boundary between you, but he’d rarely left your mind since. You’d hoped that the reality check with Yoongi might help clear you of your feelings for him, but, instead, they only deepened your desire to get to know him better, to break past that boundary. But you knew that those ideas were merely fairy tales and this marriage was not going to be one by any means. 

Distantly, you wondered how the ceremony would go. The two of you hadn’t prepared any vows, nor were you expected to. This wedding was not a show of love and everyone knew that. Your parents weren’t concerned with making it appear as though you and Yoongi were a loving couple, no, this wedding was more of an excuse to show off their wealth and influence. Your nuptials were merely a byproduct. Still, would you have to kiss Yoongi?

You quickly shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the mental image, feeling your cheeks flush hot. Yet, you couldn’t get it out of your head. You imagined his lips would be soft and gentle, that he would lead you through the kiss and deepen it for more. His hands would come to rest at your waist before encircling it, pulling you closer, flush, to his body. 

No! You can’t imagine that, you’re not allowed!

Internally, you scoffed. What kind of girl wasn’t allowed to imagine kissing her fiance? You knew the truth, however, that it wasn’t your place to imagine yourself in that position. That was reserved for the person he loved, who was, decidedly, not you. 

Tossing the packet, you made your way back to your way back to your desk. Settling into the pillowed surface of your chair, you browsed through your emails before noticing one from the marketing team.

From: limheesungmarketing1@okgaming.com

RE: MIRA’S AWAKENING Influencer Advertising

Hello Team Leader Seo,

We have decided that we would like to reach out to online influencers and streamers to assist in promoting Project Mira’s Awakening. A list of possible candidates is attached, along with their profiles and viewer analytics. We would like your input on any public figures you believe may be good candidates for this endeavor. Please reach out if you and your team come up with any candidates that are not already included in the attached file.

Additionally, we would like to create merchandise to provide for these public figures and we need to confirm with you and Graphics Team 2 on graphics we can include on merchandise items. You will find a list of items we are looking to make, along with graphics suggestions, attached as well. Please coordinate with GT 2 to send over finalized ideas and start creating the images.

Thank you,

Team Leader Lim

You considered the contents, feeling the eraser of your pencil tap against your lip, who could you suggest? You had your favorite streamers, but none aligned that well with the nature of the game you were producing, which meant the viewer base wouldn’t have enough crossover with your target audience. Running through a list of the streamers you watched regularly in your head, you stopped at one in particular. 

Goldenboy97. 

Jeon Jeongguk was quite popular and played enough combat-based games to have sufficient audience crossover, while still being intriguing for the puzzle aspect of the game. Not that you were biased, but he was your favorite creator at the moment. You jotted down his handle and a note to ask the rest of your team about their thoughts. 

Leaning back in your chair, you stared blankly at the screen as the emails continued flooding in. Slowly, but surely, your thoughts drifted back to the phone call with your mother. The wedding was next week, with the rehearsal dinner only being seven days away. 

You felt a strange combination of dread and giddiness, a swirl of emotional turmoil you weren’t ready to unpack. Hoseok was coming back tonight and you were picking him up from the train station. You’d probably have time to process your emotions then. Hoseok was staying at your apartment in the guest bedroom for a couple of weeks so he could be there through the whole wedding process. He had also mentioned looking for an apartment to move into in Seoul, which made you excited. You really wanted to have the college dream team together again.

The thoughts of the actual wedding were stoking your nerves, you still hadn’t talked to Yoongi since the last time you’d met. You weren’t sure of the protocol or if you should try to talk to him beforehand, especially about the ceremony. Too cowardly to act on your anxiety, you shut off your opened messaging app on your phone. You weren’t keen on finding out how Yoongi would respond to an unprompted message. 

The sound of your team packing up alerted you to the time, being slightly past five. You joined them in getting ready to leave before heading to the elevator. The rest of the group trekked slightly ahead while Song Ha walked slightly slower to stay back with you. 

“So, the wedding is next week. Are you excited?”

You chuckled nervously, “Yeah, you could call it that.”

“Ah, are you nervous? Makes sense. Just think, though, soon, you’ll be married to the love of your life! How exciting!”

Your insides felt queasy. You hadn’t told Song Ha about the nature of your relationship with your betrothed because you weren’t exactly sure how to explain it to someone who wasn’t familiar, nor did you want to deal with the embarrassment, “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Where are you going for your honeymoon?”

You bit your lip, “Nowhere, actually. We couldn’t get time off of work at the same time.” The honeymoon had long been decided as an unnecessary expense, and neither you nor Yoongi complained. Being stuck with him for weeks after the wedding in another country sounded like a nightmarish situation. You wouldn’t have minded a vacation though.

“Gosh, that sucks. Hopefully, you’ll be able to do something over the summer, maybe,” Song Ha pouted, swinging her work bag in line with her step. You smiled at her naivete.

“Yeah, hopefully.”

“Hobi!”

You ran towards the taller man, throwing your arms around his upper body, “I missed you! It feels so nice to have you back in Seoul.”

Feeling his chest rumble with a laugh, you squeezed him harder before releasing him. 

“Feels good to be back too,” he responded, a bright, heart-shaped smile adorning his face, “Let me get my bags to your car.”

“Oh, right, let me help,” you nodded, reaching for the bigger suitcase to roll towards your car. Hoseok easily picked up the duffel bag lying at his feet and followed behind you. You had opted for driving to the station since his train had come too late for the buses to still be running, and you didn’t want to have to deal with paying for or lugging his baggage into a cab. 

After loading the luggage into your trunk, you both settled into the front seats of your well-worn car. You heard Hoseok chuckle while clicking in his seatbelt, “This certainly feels different from the drunk bus and taxi rides back to the campus dorms. Even if it’s about the same level as luxury.”

You rolled your eyes, “Hey, my car is reliable. The previous owner only had it for a couple of years before selling it off and she’s been perfectly good since then. Though, my mom would probably agree with you on the luxury bit.”

“Yeah, well, who wants to listen to her opinion anyway. Before I forget, thanks again for letting me stay at your place while I’m here, I know it’ll probably be annoying with the wedding prep going on.”

“It’s no problem, seriously. Besides, a lot of my stuff’s been moved over to Yoongi’s for when I move after the wedding. I’m just keeping my apartment there in case I need it since I won’t be paying rent at Yoongi’s.” Keeping the lease on your apartment had been a conscious decision because you had figured you’d want a safe space away from the marriage drama and it wouldn’t be an extra hit to your income. What your mother and Yoongi didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. 

“Has he really paid off his entire apartment? You’re marrying a proper chaebol,” Hoseok joked. 

You laughed lightly, a tinge of awkwardness at the idea that you really were, and you had no idea how he’d act in his own house. Tapping your fingers along the steering wheel, you tried to subtly change the topic, “Well, speaking of apartments, do you know where you’re going to be looking?”

Hoseok launched into a detailed plan he had for looking at rental properties in Seoul for both his apartment and the studio he wanted to open. You excitedly listened along, thrilled that he was planning on settling near you, as you drove to your own apartment. 

After you’d parked, Hoseok insisted on taking the large suitcase, claiming that only he was strong enough to lug it up the stairs. You only laughed a little bit at his sour expression when you showed him the perfectly working elevator. 

Punching in the code to your apartment, you swung open the door, making sure not to step food inside. A loud pop rang out and confetti sprayed out from the doorway.

“Surprise!”

Hoseok stumbled back, clutching at his chest and mouth agape at Joohee’s excited smile from inside the apartment, “Shit, Joohee, you scared me!”

You laughed loudly before grabbing his suitcase and rolling it inside, setting the duffel bag on top. Joohee began cleaning up the mess of confetti, Hoseok started to unpack what he’d need for the night, and you began unboxing the pizza that had arrived while Joohee was setting up. 

As the three of you settled into your living room, Hoseok already teasing Joohee, you felt like a void in your heart had been filled. The last few months had been so stressful and it hadn’t felt like you’d gotten a break emotionally in so long. The sounds of your friends chattering and laughing made you feel at ease. So, naturally, Hoseok had to ruin that.

“So, Y/N, how are you feeling about the rehearsal next week? Or the wedding, for that matter.”

You shifted in your position on the loveseat, feeling yourself frown, “Um, I don’t know. I don’t know what to expect. I can’t believe I’ll be married in just over a week.” Letting out a nervous laugh, you continued, “I haven’t talked to Yoongi in like six months. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

You could feel yourself spiraling, but you had been holding in so many emotions that it felt like you couldn’t stop yourself from talking, “Honestly, I’m really scared. I don’t want this to be my life forever. I’m not ready, I don’t think I’ll ever be.”

Joohee got up from her spot on the couch to hug you, Hoseok joining soon after. Something about their touch comforting you pushed you over the edge, the dam broke, and tears began streaming down your cheeks. You sniffled pathetically, hating the level of vulnerability you were currently displaying. You hadn’t cried throughout this whole experience, but in the comforting presence of your closest friends, you couldn’t help it. 

“I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to marry him if it’s going to be like this. Why does my life have to be this way? Why can’t I be normal?”

Joohee and Hoseok only squeezed you in response, not having an answer to your questions. Your tears continued on until you couldn’t cry anymore and Joohee finally released you. She stood and smiled kindly at you, “Do you want me to get you anything?”

“Water, please,” you said raspily, throat dry from all the crying. Joohee nodded before heading to the kitchen, leaving you with Hoseok who had shoved himself into the loveseat to further comfort you. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, slightly muffled by burying your face in Hoseok’s soft, cotton shirt. 

“You know you can always talk to us. I wish I could change this for you, that you didn’t have to do this,” he said softly, stroking your hair. 

“It is what it is,” you said, feeling much more mellow now that you’d cried out all your overwhelming emotions. 

“Still,” Hoseok insisted, “He has no reason to be such a jerk.” You shrugged, you felt the same but there wasn’t much you could do to change that. 

Joohee returned with a cup of water which you gratefully took and sipped. Suddenly feeling quite exhausted, and a headache coming on, you tapped Hoseok to get off of you, to which he complied and clambered off the loveseat.

“Sorry guys, I’m just so exhausted now. I really appreciate you being here, but I think I’m going to head to bed,” you stated, hugging both of them, before starting to gather the trash to clean up. 

Joohee laid a hand on your shoulder to stop you, “Go, get some rest. We’ll clean up.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Hoseok exclaimed, and pushed you towards your bedroom, “Go to bed!”

Laughing, you acquiesced and headed into your bedroom to get ready to sleep. As you went through your nightly routine, you felt yourself feeling a bit calmer about the upcoming week. You had your two closest friends by your side. 

You were ready to handle anything that Yoongi threw at you.

Probably.

Yoongi lightly swirled the glass of whiskey between his fingers as he sat at his desk in his brown leather chair. By this time next week, he would be getting married. 

His eyes drifted towards the manila folder lying at the edge of his desk, a small water stain on the corner. Inside were the files on his soon-to-be wife, Seo Y/N. He took a sip of his whiskey, the smoky flavour traveling down his throat, as he considered his fiancee. 

He didn’t know what to make of her. She just seemed so meek and obedient, which wasn’t at all appealing. He didn’t remember much of her from before the arrangement, aside from vague interactions between them and the Kim siblings. She had seemed quite timid then too. 

Sighing, he leaned back in his chair, setting his glass on his desk. He didn’t want to do this marriage. It was a chore, really. 

Yoongi didn’t necessarily have anyone he was looking to marry, but having to pretend to be exclusive with some girl he didn’t care about wasn’t conducive to the bachelor lifestyle he’d cultivated. He’d set his ground rules, and she’d agreed, pretty easily, another thing that irked Yoongi. 

Couldn’t she stand up for herself? Or say anything at all that was her own opinion?

Yoongi drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, he supposed she had said something that night. She’d wanted to be friends. He hadn’t been expecting that.

He figured it might be some condition about how she didn’t want to work or for him to stop seeing other people, but, instead, she’d simply asked for his friendship. And he’d refused. 

Of course he did, it went against his other rule. He wanted to keep his life separate from this artificial marriage and that included remaining nothing but acquaintances. He’d have to be steadfast, he decided. That night, when he’d seen your imploring expression with hope shining in your eyes, he’d almost agreed. He wasn’t sure why that was, or if he even wanted to know, but he couldn’t let it happen again. 

Despite your docile and unassuming nature, you were dangerous. And you didn’t seem to know it, which made you all the more so.

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[mc-lukanette]

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Marinette sighed, pulling her hair tie free and shaking her head to let her bun go. It was a terrible, exhausting day, and she lingered around the main area of the building to take a breather while people filed out. There was still a faint scent of macarons in the air from all the ones she'd dropped on the floor and a (probably underpaid) worker was busy cleaning them up.

She'd gotten to sit next to Adrien during the movie, but she didn't actually feel accomplished about it. Her mind was still racing with thoughts of why she even bothered. It was high effort for little actual reward, and it felt embarrassing more than anything else.

Why did she do it anyway? There was always a weird correlation with everything going wrong for her on days when akuma happened, even if the akuma didn't directly cause it. Maybe she had a sixth sense for it and it made her stress out more?

So weird, she thought, idly running her fingers through her hair with one hand and dusting off her maid outfit with the other. In retrospect, that too was a weird choice; more "trying to catch the sight of a guy with certain interests" than "dressing for the occasion."

As she was mulling her own choices over to herself, a flash of white from the corner of her vision caught her attention. She looked over, seeing a large stack of papers near the entrance of the building as well as Thomas Astruc turning on the other side of the door to continue down the sidewalk. With a little urgency, she headed over to pick up the papers in both arms, noting that they appeared to be transcripts for something.

Her eyes zeroed in on the name Thomas Astruc and she hurried out, looking the way he'd gone as she called out to him.

Yet, he was nowhere to be found. Puzzled, Marinette looked back down, shuffling through the transcripts mindlessly.

Adrien probably knows him since he was in the movie, she thought. I can ask him to give them back—

She stopped before she'd finished the plan in her head, caught off-guard by how she'd wondered about Adrien so casually without having some crush-induced freak out in public. The day was just getting weirder by the second, and it became even more so when she took a better look at the transcripts in her hand.

It seemed obvious initially that it would've been the transcripts for the movie, or maybe a potential sequel, yet they were for a TV show called Miraculous Ladybug. She'd never heard of such a thing and found it even stranger that Thomas Astruc was listed as a writer, not a director.

Curiosity gnawed at her as she fidgeted with the pages. A little peek wouldn't hurt, right?

—————

Having dismissed Tikki after getting a scolding of looking into things she wasn't supposed to, Marinette dropped the transcripts onto her table and began to sort through them. It was perhaps petty to look into an unreleased series like this, but considering what happened with the movie and all the mutterings she heard from people who "didn't know Ladybug was afraid of cats," she would prefer to get ahead of whatever nonsense was going to be released in the future.

The transcripts were already in order of episode, so she started at the top, flipping the page to start reading.

It all went downhill from there.

It appeared innocent enough at the start, following akuma who already existed whose civilian selves may have given interviews on being akumatized, but the first double take of many began when Marinette saw her own name in the transcript. That may have been fine on its own, yet this Marinette lived where she lived, in a bakery with her parents Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng.

She swallowed, her hands crinkling the paper from their tight grip. Whoever wrote this knew that she had been Ladybug and somehow got down the events of the written days with precise accuracy. Was she being stalked somehow? How did they know all about her, and was this planned to be released to the public?

Despite her stomach churning at the implications, she continued reading.

—————

It was late into the night, Tikki already sound asleep up on Marinette's bed, when Marinette had decided to stop reading for the day. She pinched the bridge of her nose, exhausted yet wide awake at the same time.

Everything in the transcripts lined up with her memories and filled in gaps where she previously had nothing to work with. Written down when she'd transformed, what she'd done, who her friends were and what they did with her, and beyond that were things she'd either suspected or not known at all.

Adrien was Chat Noir, Gabriel was Hawk Moth, and it all made sense when put into a format like this.

It didn't appear like someone who knew too much had put pen to paper anymore. Rather, it felt like something written before it even happened: fate sitting behind a desk and planning out what was to be. There were even "episodes" of events that hadn't happened yet that Marinette felt could only be a matter of time.

She raked her fingers through her hair, clutching the strands tight as she tried to make sense of it all. Did it mean that she was just part of some show? Was she a character mindlessly following these scripts? How much was her and how far did her relationships with others go past what was written down for them to have?

Her mind spun, the chair underneath her feeling like it could collapse at any moment. Blood going cold, goosebumps formed along her arms as she looked around to see if she was being watched.

Everything added up and put into perspective things she'd never thought about before. All of the little inconsistencies that she hadn't given a single thought to were now staring at her right in the face, like the very fabric of the universe was broken and everyone went on like nothing was wrong.

And it was Chat Noir who caused Theo's akumatization, but he never told her and she was left in the dark. He'd planned in advance to ditch the search for Andre's ice cream to go set up the "date" with Ladybug that he passed off like it wasn't a big deal.

There was also Alya, who knew very well that she'd been willing to let Kagami be with Adrien when she'd agree to third wheel at the ice skating rink, only to then claim that she was jealous of Lila because of Adrien. Adding to that was Chloe, who Marinette herself was told to "be the bigger person for" and broke the identity rule for just to make her bully of multiple years Queen Bee again, which sounded reasonable at the time but crazy actually reading it.

Finally, there were her failures to get Adrien's attention and the inability to confess to him, whether to be rejected or otherwise, while Chat Noir skated by due to conveniently confessing his crush on Ladybug to Ladybug's civilian self. Why?

Because she was the punchline. She was constantly being set up to fail. The insane scenarios she was always roped into were the forces behind these transcripts twisting themselves into knots to ensure that she would be little more than a joke.

Tears formed in the corner of her eyes. Who could she even trust if everything involving them was made up in such convoluted fashion?

Furiously wiping at the tears, she decided on the only thing she could: she would test the transcripts and go from there. She could go off script, do things it didn't expect, and try to prevent what was predetermined. Clutching the papers to her chest, they were wrinkled with resolve rather than fear this time.

If it wasn't fate that put these in her hands, then maybe she could still do something. With these, she had power, she had control. More importantly, she could have an ally; someone she trusted, but often went ignored by the transcripts and thus was the least affected by them.

Setting the transcripts off to the side, she retrieved her phone and scrolled through her contacts. Most of her friends were dismissed almost immediately, having been around since the start of the series, and she couldn't trust Tikki either. After all, if there was any mouthpiece for the forces behind the transcripts - the "writers," she supposed - it was her.

Her thumb stopped skimming when she saw the black and blue hair: Juleka's brother, Luka, who she'd shared numbers with when she invited him out to the ice rink just in case plans changed. It was a reasonable concern at the time because of how often Adrien had to bail, but of course he was able to show up when it was written that she would make a fool out of herself in front of him, the one consistency throughout the entire series.

But Luka, he'd only been around starting in season 2 of the "show" and appeared prominently in a couple episodes at best. It made even more sense when she thought about that day at the ice rink, the akuma having conveniently started to attack while she was trying to sort out her feelings on him.

The show wanted him there, but didn't want her to think about him.

A burst of confidence snaked its way through her anxiety as she opened their messages to each other. Casting a glance at the transcripts, she thought, I don't have to play your game anymore.

Thus, she typed out a quick message to him.

Hey, are you free in a couple weeks for a meet up? Just the two of us? It's really important.

After hitting 'Send,' she brought the phone up to cover her mouth and attempted to take a steady breath through her nose. Two weeks was plenty of time to test the waters of what she'd seen, and anything else could be planned out after she met with him.

She could handle this. She wasn't the failure she was written as; she didn't have to be.

—————

Marinette had heard before about people so close that they could predict what the other would say. Others could be so in sync that they'd say things at the same time, even without trying.

It was an entirely different matter when she already knew what someone was going to say, not because she was close to them but because she'd read it before.

Three episodes - though it was strange to call them that - happened in the weeks leading up to seeing Luka: Bakerix, Backwarder, and Reflekdoll. The former came first and was the most unnerving of them all, being the one that put the transcripts set in the future to the test.

So long as Marinette followed the transcript, every line went exactly as intended. Her parents and grandmother spoke as if they had read it themselves, like actors in a play they weren't aware they were in. Even when Marinette didn't follow the script, she could feel the words trying to come up through her throat like an itching sensation before a cough.

Or, more accurately, bile building just before throwing up.

Almost unintentionally, she took a passive role by not going to see her grandfather, freshly disillusioned by the events and what they could mean for the people she knew and interacted with. He was, however, still akumatized, though without any action on her part. She didn't ask him why, already having the information she wanted most: that the world still tried to follow the transcript even if she fought it. It was proven further when her family saw the news, somehow recognizing the akuma as their relative, and rushed to see him when he was deakumatized.

They worked everything out from there, which on the surface sounded nice, yet Marinette was disturbed by the idea that it might've only happened because he was written into her future, likely for her own humiliation at some point.

At the very least, the world continued turning whenever she went off script as she'd planned. Her worst case scenario had been that everything would break apart or she would be unable to go against what was written.

She had little choice but to take action the day that Marianne was meant to be akumatized; Adrien was going away for a time and Master Fu had no one else to trust in delivering his letter to her.

According to the transcript, she would be humiliated in front of her friends after mixing up the letters, and Marianne would be akumatized when she too was given the wrong letter. With her thoughts dripping with sarcasm, Marinette supposed that was "her own fault" for expecting a magical yoyo to offer what she'd asked for when she reached inside. She could even imagine Thomas Astruc's face along other, faceless writers, hitting their desks laughing as they wrote down Adrien handing her constipation medicine.

Still, the solution was simple: she confirmed that it was Marianne's letter before handing it over. She could've given Adrien her own love letter as well, but had avoided him as much as possible since finding the transcripts. Her nature of spitting out word salad was there when they did see each other, yet became more manageable the more she refused to engage with him.

Him being Chat Noir made it all a bit easier. While she'd been sympathetic of his woes in being told nothing, the knowledge that he'd kept quiet about the grimoire while complaining to her about secrets and threatened to quit while Paris was underwater was, needless to say, quite the turn off.

Even when they weren't set to follow a plot, he was still as flirtatious as ever despite her rejection of his advances. It made sense as, though she may have hoped otherwise, she couldn't say she was a different person even after reading the transcripts; only one more aware of the world around her.

Juleka getting akumatized into Reflekdoll was something Marinette worked hard to prevent. Whether or not their friendship was "written to be," she still cared about people she felt close to and could relate to Juleka's anxiety.

Alya, of course, tried her hardest to fight back against her efforts to exclude Adrien, all with mixed results. Adrien still came along in the end, but Marinette managed to keep the photoshoot about Juleka, even if that meant ditching the group for a while to hide in the bathroom and talk her down from a potential panic attack.

Juleka taking the full spotlight was something she worked hard for, as not only would she not have wanted to ride off of Adrien's image to give her website any attention, but the idea that he would certainly have overshadowed Juleka in the eyes of the public disgusted her. She didn't need him, no matter how the forces "in charge" tried to convince her otherwise.

All in all, it was crisis successfully averted, and now she'd had multiple separate experiences to come to a few conclusions about the nature of her world.

The first was the obvious: that events were preventable, which was a relief given what she'd read about the season 3 finale. Sometimes things such as akumatization could still happen, but her actions as someone with knowledge of "the future" could reign in the worst of it.

Secondly, those around her could not stray from the transcript unless they were forced to by her or the changes she made, almost falling into loops of trying to make something occur unless they couldn't anymore. It was unnerving, seeing the double-edged sword of the power she held, but it was workable.

Thirdly, and perhaps even more important than the first, was that people could still be people. They acted similarly to what she might expect off script, but not always in a way that was bad. Juleka, for example, didn't blame her for anything that went wrong during the photoshoot as she had - rather nonsensically - in the transcript.

Marinette saw nothing less than her friend. She could still care about people without a nagging voice in her head telling her that it wasn't "real" or that she didn't actually mean anything to anyone. In the ideal scenario that came from everything she'd learned so far, there was a light to be found at the end of the tunnel: either the show's plot would end, or she would change it so drastically that no one could follow it any more.

Thinking back on it all, she let herself feel hope at the memory of Juleka's grateful smile, the light shining off the hair clip Luka had given her in just the right way.

It also gave her an idea.

—————

Marinette sat quietly on her chaise lounge as Luka pulled off his guitar case and settled it to the side of her room, so gently that she couldn't hear the sound of the case against the wall. She'd had two full weeks to process the transcripts and what they meant for her life, but it didn't mean that she wasn't still on edge when she thought about it.

It was one thing to have been given the knowledge herself. She was the one who picked up the transcripts, she chose to sit down and read them, and she continued looking into it even while knowing how stressful it would be.

It was an entirely different matter to inflict that on someone else. A few times, she'd debated with herself on excuses she could've made for their meeting in case she felt like backing out, but dismissed all of them in the end. She wondered how she could tell a person something so profoundly life-altering and how that would affect them emotionally, or if they'd even want to be told.

But how would one gauge that? Marinette could only use herself as a reference, knowing that she, at least, would want to know. The unknowns that revealed themselves to her throughout the experience - the things that were intentionally kept from her, Hawk Moth's identity, the future itself - had been nothing but beneficial to her, despite the horrors that came with them.

She wanted to share that; to know that she wasn't alone. She wanted—

"Marinette?"

She looked up, catching Luka's concern at what must've been a heavy expression on her face. She shook the thoughts away, offering him a gentle smile that she hoped conveyed, 'I'm glad you're here.'

"Juleka had so much fun at the photoshoot," she said, evading the topic of the current atmosphere. "It was sweet of you to put that hair clip on her. I bet it made her feel more confident."

His brows were still furrowed in worry, but he let it be for now and smiled back at her. "Thanks." He gestured at the spot next to her in a silent question and she accepted, shuffling to the side just enough to give him a comfortable amount of room to sit down. His weight sank into the cushion as he wondered aloud, "Did Jule tell you? She doesn't talk about me that much."

He stated it casually, clearly unbothered and of the opinion that Juleka wasn't obligated to talk about him in either a positive nor negative way. Marinette didn't say anything on it, but thought that of course Juleka didn't talk about him much, because how odd would it have been for someone's brother to just appear a whole season later and not be mentioned otherwise? Did he even exist before the day they met?

That was one thing she actively tried not to think about, having been too afraid to look up her grandfather's address before his mention in the transcripts. There was only so much she could take without imagining that Luka only came into existence a while ago.

Despite knowing that his question had, in all likelihood, been rhetorical, she answered it anyway, "...No. I didn't hear it from her."

She'd tried to be careful, giving him enough information to mull over but not anything that appeared outright supernatural. Technically, Juleka could've told Rose, who could've then told her at some point, which would've been far more normal compared to the truth.

But Luka, judging from the way he stared at her, eyes narrowed in contemplation, had caught onto the subtle implications in her tone.

Gripping her capris and taking a deep breath to steady her mind, Marinette pushed herself up to walk over to her computer chair. Nudging it aside with her leg, she turned to him and placed a hand atop the stack of transcripts, explaining, "I found these when I was at an event for the Ladybug movie everyone was talking about. There was a guy - Thomas Astruc - who directed it, but these call him a writer and I couldn't find out anything about it."

It all sounded irrelevant to what they were discussing, but Luka stood and came to stand alongside her, eyeing the stack and waiting for whatever she might say next.

In response, she held out three transcripts: Captain Hardrock, Frozer, and Reflekdoll. "You should read these first, but.... you might not like what you'll see."

It's all the warning she could give him without sounding like she was insane; his last way out before plunging under the depths with her. There would be no going back afterwards.

Luka, though puzzled, reached out for the papers, eyeing her face one last time before taking the transcripts in his hands to look at them properly. His eyes widened at what she imagined what the name of his mom's akuma, but he didn't comment on it as he went about reading.

Marinette stayed quiet the whole time, hands clasped tightly together to keep herself from making any movements. There would be time later for all of her discoveries and personal observations, but for now she let him piece it together himself.

Luka didn't say anything either, so she could only infer how he was feeling based on facial expressions and body language: the twitch of his eyebrows, the way his eyes flicked back up to reread something he found particularly unbelievable, and the sudden exhales he made that would ruffle the paper...

She could imagine that he was having a similar experience to her own, but what she couldn't was how it must've felt to realize the role he played.

Without question, he could've been invited to the photoshoot; he should've been invited and they could’ve easily made the time work out for him. After all, what better way to keep Juleka's anxiety at bay than to have the brother who knew it best along for the ride? She had men's clothes too and he could've easily modeled alongside his sister, the only reason Marinette hadn't invited him at the time being that she feared tampering with the plot with additional variables.

But she knew why it wasn't written into the original, at least. He was second place to someone else, so rarely thought about even with his role of being the "main character's" other crush. In the eyes of the plot, his feelings were written to be discarded, and it didn't matter how sweet he was or how compatible they might've been otherwise.

He would fail no matter what, tripping at the word 'go' without a chance of getting back up. She couldn't fathom why anyone would think to do that: to write a character who only served as a stone to be stepped on in order to get the person he liked with someone else.

She shuddered just thinking about it.

Luka's movements were unsteady - unlike himself - as he tore his gaze away from the transcripts in his hands to the ones on the table, his hip awkwardly bumping against the edge. He set the ones she'd given him aside to start reading from the others, leaning against the table with his back turned to it for support.

Marinette bit her bottom lip, sympathetic. The stack contained a majority of the transcripts she'd picked up and, while he may've intended try to pour through all of them, she did keep a choice few tucked away: specifically, the ones from the future that had him in them. It wasn't that she was ashamed of what she was written to do or wanted to keep him in the dark, but she'd wanted to mull things over herself first.

In more direct terms, her feelings for him. She would never deny that their first meeting had been "staged," written in such a way for them to start crushing on each other. She'd spent the full two weeks questioning her own emotions, sorting through them to see which felt real and which felt manufactured. It wasn't easy, and even now it was hard to gauge exactly what she felt that day.

So on some level, she looked forward to this: seeing Luka in front of her after reading something that treated him as someone to set aside. He still felt real, she'd still been aware of his body heat when they'd sat next to each other, and she couldn't help watching how he tilted his head just slightly when his bangs got in the way of reading a line or two.

She brought her clasped hands to her chest, feeling her own heartbeat. Regardless of the past, she knew the quickened thumping wasn't only from nerves, but what she couldn't know were his feelings.

Withholding those few transcripts for just a little longer played into that.

Marinette noticed the papers quiver in Luka's hands, looking down to see a tight grip that was all too familiar to her. Unable to stand aside any longer, she stepped towards him and unclasped her hands. Her fingers were stiff from gripping herself so tight, but she reached out anyway, delicately sliding her hand over his.

Luka's haunted gaze broke as he made eye contact with her, searching for something she couldn't quite place. Before she could say anything, he moved, both arms going around her and pulling her into a tight squeeze. The air left her lungs in a gasp, and her next breath took in his scent, so very close to her.

"Haaa—" He stopped for a moment, wavering, then tried again. "H-have you been dealing with this all by yourself?"

Her vision started to blur, tears coming to her eyes unbidden. He was the heavier of the two of them and she could feel it in his embrace, but the weight coming off her shoulders made it feel like nothing. She hadn't given a thought to what she may have liked to hear herself after what she'd been through, yet his words struck her in the heart in every right way.

It was an unspoken 'You're not alone anymore.' She hugged him back just as tightly, burying her face into his shoulder as she cherished the moment.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, having little else to say after keeping it a secret for what felt like so long. She might not have needed to apologize for it, but it clearly hurt him to know that she had been hurting.

And now he'd be with her through all of this; he'd shown her as much. Whether that involved helping her figure out what to do about Hawk Moth or how to break away fully from the plot, he'd be there.

That meant there was only one more thing to check.

Slowly, Marinette loosened her grip on the back of his jacket, giving him a sign that he could let go. His hands dropped back down to his sides, one hand still clutching the transcripts he'd been reading, but before he could step away from her, she reached up to take his face in her hands. His mouth dropped open without a sound, the hair in front of his ears tickling her fingers as she slid her palms against his cheeks.

His face was paler than usual from everything that'd been revealed to him, but colored at her featherlight touch. She tried to communicate everything with her eyes, giving him every opportunity to pull away from her.

The plots consistently tried to keep the events in place. Her grandfather still got akumatized, she'd put back and pulled out the wrong letter multiple times before giving up and keeping it between her teeth while she reached inside her yoyo, and Adrien still came along to the photoshoot no matter what she did. She could almost feel the world resisting her at every turn.

It wasn't safe to let her guard down when she knew one of the transcripts were taking place. It was already hard enough trying to make changes while the threat of the "destined" outcomes loomed over her, and there were other outcomes that were clearly avoided, such as her and Chat learning each other's identities.

When she first learned - read - that Adrien was Chat, there were a few days where she struggled to remember it. Maybe it was because of so much information being piled onto her at once, or something was fighting knowledge that she wasn't supposed to have.

And now, right there with her, was someone she wasn't supposed to have.

"Luka," she whispered, then closed her eyes and kissed him.

It was purposeful. It was delightful. It was terrifying. If there were only an external force causing his feelings for her, this is where it would all come undone. She kept her eyes shut tight, trying to feel out any sign that he didn't want this.

Instead, she heard the fluttering of papers, the transcripts falling at her feet as Luka held her again. He returned the kiss just as passionately, the stiffness and nerves from before fading away while he let himself drown in the comfort of the contact.

Faintly, she could recall her first kiss - the one demanded of her if she wanted to take out the akuma - but memories associated with anything written before she'd read the transcripts had slowly drifted to the back of her mind. They detached themselves from all else, as if she'd only experienced them in someone else's body.

Kissing Luka, meanwhile, felt vivid, her body shuddering in a mixture of joy and relief. Even when the kiss broke, he didn't step back from her, pressing their foreheads together. His eyes were half-lidded and appeared almost more blue than usual, a color she was quickly associating with hope.

Both at a loss for words, they accepted it and left talk of the future for the future. As for right then and there, they could write their own story just for themselves.

[muddyorbsblr]

a helping hand

See my full list of works here!

Summary: When Loki enters the office and sees you visibly shaken with your eyes swollen, he takes it upon himself to find out what's wrong and how he could help

Friendship: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: talks of divorce and infidelity; mentions of a shitty ex husband; shitty coworkers that like to kick people when they're down; language [let me know if I missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: not a romantic story; just the slightest hints that this Loki is the head of a company that has some shady dealings (crime boss…he's kinda a crime boss)

The frantic scurrying of the ladies on the office floor had you furiously wiping away at the tears that hadn't stopped falling since last night. You pressed the cold metal tip of your under eye cream to the swollen parts of your eyes in hopes of making it a little less obvious that your heart was so ruthlessly stomped into the ground last night.

She's everything you're not, your soon to be ex husband's words taunted at you, his smug voice getting louder with every attempt to block it out and paint a smile on your face. Young, pretty, and fuck me she's hot. Looks like she actually puts an effort into her appearance.

You did your best to focus on evening out your breathing, trying not to think about working out the logistics now that you were facing a divorce. If you weren't smart about this and you agreed to all his terms you might just be getting out of this without a penny to your fucking name.

"Pfft, you're gonna need the entire fucking tube if you want to even make a dent of a difference. Might as well not even bother trying, Y/N," one of the women in the research department, Tammy, sneered. Even going so far as to stop her scurrying just to spew her irrational hatred toward you.

"Can you just…not for today, Tammy? I'm having a shitty week." You didn't even have it in you to sound remotely as pissed as you were at her. The words just came out of you with barely a whisper, like you'd already thrown in the towel before the first round even started.

"Hmm, a shitty week to go with your shitty face. Sounds like the world's finally healing," she spat, immediately straightening her stance and shutting up when the ding of the elevator practically echoed across the entire floor.

Everyone had to be in their best behavior now. Mr Laufeyson had arrived, and your boss wasn't too keen to hear any "banal gossiping drivel" while he was breathing the same air as his employees. Something about how this type of nonsensical talk consistently lowered the average IQ of the entire country with every passing day and he refused to cultivate a workplace that contributed to that atrocity.

Which suited you just fine; you rather enjoyed the quiet. And when spiteful gossips were no longer allowed to do the very thing that seemed to serve as their lifeblood, the floor tended to be so silent you could hear exactly whose heartbeat sped up whenever Loki started nearing your desks.

"Cease your blathering, everyone. I wish not to hear a single word unless it pertains to oppositional research that could increase our advantage to securing future dealings with the Mancini family. By the end of the day I want to know exactly how to woo every deciding member and--" He stopped in his tracks the second he was in front of your desk, eyes scrupulously scanning your features before clearing his throat and addressing the floor again. "And planning out the most efficient way to influence their decision to lean toward us."

He walked toward the door to his office, your cue to send him his itinerary for the day before you aided where you could in the Mancini research. But before he stepped through the door, he spoke again. Significantly softer this time. Gentler, even.

"Y/L/N, may I speak with you a moment in my office?"

A barely-contained snort was heard from Tammy's desk, a smug look on her face as she drew a line across her neck while keeping direct eye contact with you. "You're fucking done," she mouthed toward you, only returning to work with back ramrod straight when your boss turned to glare daggers at her.

"Of--Of course, Sir." You picked up your tablet, pulling up his calendar and readying the words you were going to say as you walked into his office.

"Please, darling, have a seat." You knew better than to protest against quite anything he said. Even with the change in his tone and his wording, you knew it was an order more than a request, so you followed. "Now tell me what happened."

"P-Pardon?" you sputtered, wincing when you let out the most unladylike sniffle to try breathing a bit better.

"Your eyes are red. Swollen red," he stated, briefing pointing a finger to his own face. "And you're one of the most unshakable persons I've had the privilege of knowing. You've stared down with ruthless individuals with records so colored it made my brother take a step back sometimes, and you wouldn't even break a single sweat. You've even dealt with that gossiping nuisance Tabitha Stevenson on a near hourly basis more gracefully than she deserves. And yet here you are. With eyes that could only have gotten in this state if you'd been crying for hours, or even the entire night. Something happened to you since you left the office last night that caused this."

"Sir really it's--It's nothing you should concern yourself with it's…" You couldn't find it in you to say that it was banal. It wasn't to you. But it would be to him, without a doubt.

"Whatever has you shaken enough to cry through the night and arrive at the office so visibly distressed is not nothing, Y/N," he insisted, still keeping with his gentler tone as if he was concerned that even the slightest raising of his voice would bring forth more tears. "Is it something at home? A family concern? Do you need a few days to spend at home and--"

"Home is the last place I want to be right now," you blurted out, nearly hissing the words and clearly taking your boss aback at how you were practically tripping over your words. You sighed, doing your best to take a deep, shaky breath before finally answering him. "Rupert served me with divorce papers last night, and the son of a bitch is practically evicting me from the house. I have until Friday's end to 'clear my useless shit out', his words not mine. Says he met someone new and he can't wait to start his new life with her."

"Y/N, it's Thursday," he grumbled, his eyes darkening as he processed your words. "This miscreant expects you to have your entire life in less than 36 hours?"

"Oh no, even less," you clarified, Loki's nostrils flaring at your answer. "He doesn't want to even see me clearing them out so I have to work around his schedule. Then comes the entire journey of finding somewhere to stay on such short notice. I have half a mind to just get a room at a cheap ass motel--"

"Surely I've compensated you more than enough these last few years that you can afford accommodations far nicer than a dingy motel." He grimaced at the mere thought.

"You have, Sir, really. But I've been…stupid. Have been my entire marriage, if I'm being honest now that I don't have any rose-tinted glasses on. Our accounts are joint. And I have to think about retaining a divorce lawyer just so I can even think about getting out of this with at least some of the things I came to have since we got married, so I have to be a bit frugal where I can--"

"Alright, this is what you're going to do," he cut you off, suddenly taking on the more authoritative tone that you were used to. "Provide my men with the alarm codes for the house and they will see to removing your belongings by tonight."

"Sir, really there's no need for--"

"They will be transported to my home where you will stay to regain your bearings, and find a new home at your own pace. Not at the pace your former husband demands." Your breath caught in an ugly sound in your throat at the plans he just so casually dropped. Living with him? Was he insane? "As for a lawyer, I shall confer with my own slew of attorneys who they can recommend that specializes in divorce settlements. He won't get away with the money you worked hard for if I have anything to say about it."

"Why?" you blurted out a bit louder than you intended to. He raised an eyebrow at you, questioning your reaction. "Why would you wanna get involved in this, I mean you don't have any stakes in this, I just work for you I'm replaceable I'm--"

"No you're not," he cut you off, taking your hands in his. "Your presence has given this place a warmth, a comfort. You have a sharp wit that makes conversations less droning, a kindness that soothes me when I have to find myself here in the office. I may value your contributions both tangible and intangible when it comes to our various business dealings, but I also value your company. Perhaps I am simply an employer to you, but you are a friend to me. And I've not many of those in my life, so I tend to ensure that I do what I can to keep them safe. And as far away from struggle as my means can manage."

His words left you completely speechless, only managing to utter a simple sentiment in return. "Thank you, my friend."

A/N: Made this for @alexakeyloveloki. Bestie if I could reach across the screen and give you a big hug and a blankie I would, but also the sight of me crawling out of a screen might just be some horror movie levels of nightmare fuel, so maybe it's best that I can't 😅

Lemme just leave this lil gif of Tomathy giving a hug and a head kith instead 💖

everything taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemis @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Twist of Fate; Chapter Two

Pairings; All LADS Men x Reader (will be putting "LADS OT4 x reader" in the future)

Word Count; 2,127 (I swear they will get longer)

Themes; Isekai, eventual smut

Rated; 18+ for swearing and some mature themes

Notes; None besides the smut is not near, I regret to inform you all. I have twenty chapters and no smut, however I do have plans for it!

Prev || Next

Masterlist

You woke up bright and early the next day, ready to be discharged from the hospital first thing in the morning. You vaguely knew how the next two months were going to play out; while you did play the game until chapter eight and the next update wasn't for another month, you don't remember anything exactly. Only bits and pieces. You don't know the exact dialogue but you're sure it'll be fine. You've already changed the story enough just by getting a wound on your right eye but hey, at least, you'll look hot with a scar.

Yvonne, who is a receptionist and a nurse, helps you pull out your IV and all of the wires that keep track of your heart. Then, she steps out of the room to allow you to change out of your hospital gown. You put on your casual clothes- a blue turtleneck with a white denim jacket, the turtleneck tucked into your high-waisted dark wash blue jeans, and you put on some combat boots to finish up the look. It was a basic outfit from the game, but it was a cute one nonetheless. You head into the bathroom that was in your room so you can finally catch a glimpse of how you look and to your surprise, you look exactly like yourself. The same hair, the same face, the same blemishes, and the same eyes…save for your right eye being slightly lighter than your original eye colour. Just a drawback of having a scar. Apparently there was no damage to your eye but you'll have to get that checked out with an optometrist. Maybe you'll get some cute glasses, though that would be hard to fight with.

You make sure to grab your phone and put Caleb's necklace in your pocket for safekeeping before you finally leave your hospital room. You head down the elevator and straight to the front desk, where Yvonne was waiting. “Alright, just sign here and you'll be free to go, Y/n.”

You take the pen with your left hand, ready to sign out. “Did the accident make you left-handed?” You turn your head to see Zayne. “Maybe it made me ambidextrous, you never know.” You shoot back, quickly signing out before turning toward him. “Did you need something, doctor Zayne?”

A sigh leaves his lips before he jerks his head toward his office. “A word, please.” Then he turns and walks to his office, not even waiting for you to follow. You groan, grumbling under your breath as you follow behind him. “You tall people have no empathy for anyone shorter than you!”

He grabs something out of the desk drawer and holds it out to you. “Here. This may have some answers you're looking for.”

It's a box with a fingerprint scanner on it.

You recognize this from the game, but you play it off like you're confused. “Was this from grandma?” You ask, using your thumb to unlock it and you spot a letter. “Why didn't she give me this sooner...” You sigh and emotions that didn't quite feel like your own swell up in your chest.

“Wait, does something feel off to you?” You look around, knowing what's going to happen next. Your Hunter's watch goes off as if to say the metaflux readings are rising. A protofield was appearing right here in the office.

“I would listen to the doctor's orders, but it seems like we're going to have to take care of this.” You were nervous but you steel your nerves, hands gripping your twin pistols almost too tightly. “Are you sure you can handle this?” Zayne asks and all you can do is nod before you both enter the swirling, blue vortex.

The portal leads to a beautiful, almost church-like arena. Bright white cobblestone columns with a statue in the back of the room. You take a deep breath before taking a step forward. “This one feels like it's going to be stronger than usual.” You try to sound as calm as possible but the large creature in front of you makes it difficult. You're absolutely right to be terrified, you've never encountered a huge monster before and rightfully assumed you never would. You've never had to use guns and fight, you've definitely never had to fight for your life in fact but you guess there's a first for everything.

You close your eyes as the monster's thundering footsteps draw near, focusing on resonating with Zayne to speed up the process of defeating this thing. Your eyes opening suddenly as you fire off magazines into the large wanderer. Zayne darts around, using his ice evol on the creature as well until you break it's shield. Your aim, while clumsy, doesn't miss the target not once. Especially since the wanderer can't move quickly, it can only swing at whoever is near and throw boulders.

Though you do find it much more difficult to fight without being able to see a health bar.

Eventually the creature goes down and the protofield dissipates, leaving you both in his office as if nothing happened. Though Zayne's right arm is frosted over. Backlash from overusing his evol?

“Zayne, do you need me to-”

“No, I,” He closes his eyes and tries to breathe slowly, stuttered sharp breaths leave his lips before the frost finally goes away. “Here.” He walks over to hand you the box once more and once you grab onto it, he flexes his fingers and moves his wrist around. “Don't forget about your next appointment.”

“Mmh, you'll just remind me the day before, Doctor Zayne.” You hold your hands behind your back as you smile at him. “But I'll get out of your hair for now. Take care of yourself.” You tell him before leaving his office and you notice Xavier dozing off in one of the waiting room chairs.

“Xavier?” You tap his shoulder but he shows no sign of waking up. “Xavi?” You shake his shoulder with a bit more force and he slowly blinks his eyes open, rubbing them with one arm while his other grabs your wrist. “How long have you been here?”

“Only…five minutes?” Xavier yawns, rising up to his feet. “It took you five minutes to fall asleep?” You ask as he gently tugs you outside of the hospital. “It took you five minutes to defeat a wanderer?” He shoots right back and you tilt your head back to groan. “It was awful. I didn't miss any shots but at least I could use my evol.”

“You resonated…with who?” Xavier looks confused, his head tilting to the side as he looks at you. “My ah…friend came by to visit yesterday and helped me relearn how to resonate and I fought the wanderer with my doctor.” You decide to be as vague as possible, unsure what the repercussions would be if they all met just yet.

“You're close enough with your doctor to fight off a wanderer together?”

“Well, he's been by my side for a few years now.” You clear your throat, switching to grab Xavier’s wrist as you tug him forward. “Where'd you put my friend?” You ask, suddenly reminded that you asked for yesterday. “Oh right.” Xavier pulls the plushie out from under his white denim jacket, holding the orange fox with a blue winter coat out toward you. “I got him in one try.”

“Don't lie to me.” You tease, taking the plushie and holding it close to your chest. “It probably took you more than that.” “Well..” Xavier rubs the back of his neck and you walk together, “I tried about ten times before a kid decided to help me out..he got it in one try.” “Ah, so you were trying to take credit from a child!” You laugh before smiling as you look down at your feet. “Still…thank you for listening.”

“Any time.” He smiles right back at you. “We could stop by Meow's Café on the way back to the apartments, I hear we can get three tickets a week to pull for badges if we play three games of kitty cards.” Somehow the game mechanics transferred over to real life surprisingly well.

“Sure, I'll definitely beat you!”

Turns out, you both were bad at the game.

You won once and then both other games ended in a draw. A server walks over to place a chocolate on your table after your three games and you pick it up before you try to bite into it. “Wait.” Xavier puts a hand over your mouth. “That's…not candy.” He struggles to hide his laughter and you bat his hand away from your mouth. “What do you mean?” You pout, turning the chocolate upside-down to see the numbers 450 written on it.

“Did you forget that too? You can turn in your chocolate for clothes here. You also get chocolate from doing the claw machine. Here, I'll give you mine.” He pulls a metal chocolate from his pocket and taps it against yours to transfer his amount to yours. The underside of your chocolate changes to the number 3000. “Ohh that makes sense.” You murmur to yourself. You should've realized since in game, you can transfer chocolates for clothing items, accessories, new chat boxes, and other stuff. “Hmm, let's go use our tokens!”

You grab his wrist and tug Xavier over to the vintage looking badge machines. “So we put the token in here, turn the knob, and…” Out comes a plastic ball with a pin inside. “They're pins, not badges?” You ask, a tad bit confused but Xavier shrugs, “Don't ask me.” You both put the last two tokens in and check out which pins you got.

While Xavier is posting one of the pins on his Moments account, you decide to change your profile picture there. Especially since you've got a scar and everything now. You find some good lighting and pick up one of the café cats before taking a picture and saving it. You set the orange cat back down, scratching it's back before holding your hand out to Xavier. “C'mon, it's getting late. Let's head back to the apartments.”

“So which room is mine again?” You ask as you lean against the wall of the elevator. “It's a floor below mine.” Xavier says as the doors open to the second floor. “I'll show you.”

Once at the door, you use the fingerprint scanner and step inside, taking your shoes off before going any further. “Do you want to come inside and do some resonance training?” You place a hand on your hip as you look at Xavier. “I…guess I could but only for a little while.” Xavier shuts the door behind him, taking his shoes off as well and you both head for the couch. You sit with your leg tucked under your thigh so you can face Xavier, hands clasped between his and you close your eyes.

You've resonated twice already so it shouldn't be too difficult.

You know the resonance is done when you see tiny lights behind your eyelids but before you can open your eyes, you get yet another vision. Similar to what happened with Rafayel.

A sharp gasp slips from your lips and you rest your forehead on Xavier's shoulder as a few images flash through your head.

“Y/n, are you alright?” Xavier gently taps your shoulder a few times as you shake your head to clear your vision. “Did you see it too?” You ask the same question you asked Rafayel and Xavier almost seems even more reluctant to answer.

“I mean I saw us in class together. I'm almost positive I've never seen you in school before.” You murmur before adding, “But the sky I saw was very pretty.”

“The sky?” Xavier seems almost a bit hopeful with his question.

“It was a huge meteor shower…and I recall seeing the tassel. You know? The one on your sword.” Xavier abruptly stands up, turning his head away from you. “It must've been a daydream. I didn't see anything.” He quickly says, blinking a few times before clearing his throat, “Good job resonating. You should be ready for combat sooner than you thought.” He shoots you a smile, “I'll let you know when training starts.”

“Oh…okay. See you later, Xavier!”

The smile you had drops from your lips the moment he leaves and you click your tongue. “Tsk…maybe I was too pushy? Maybe this is why she never talked to them about their past lives..”

You run a hand through your hair as you rise to your feet, you might as well make something to eat before you head off to bed. Rafayel mentioned that art expo would be soon so it should be after your training with Xavier..

---------------------------------------------------

I think this chapter was so short because I wanted to rush the story a bit- which I am sorry because I do rush a tad just to get where I want to! Anyways, next chapter should hopefully be longer and I'll aim to make my chapters longer in the future. I just get so scared off when I see six pages for one chapter on Google docs because I'm never really sure how long a chapter should be.

Hope you enjoyed this short chapter and I'll post the third one while I figure out how to link the "prev" and "next" buttons!

[delulu-baddie]

Remember, I love you.

Angel Reese x Reader

(FLUFF)

Summary: You start to feel down about your girlfriend leaving to play in the WNBA, but she reminds you of her love for you.

A/N: This is my first story and it was a request, I could use some more ideas so send them in if you have any :)

Words can’t even describe how proud of Angel you were, however a part of you was dreading the near future. She had just finished playing her final game in her collegiate career due to fouling out, and while it wasn't the outcome she wanted, there's no denying that she put her all out there tonight. These past two weeks have been stressful and busy, now that it's all over you just wanted to go back to your apartment in Baton Rouge and relax with your girlfriend.

While she hadn’t announced it to the public yet, you know that she plans to declare for the draft in the next few days, and you weren't too sure how you felt about it. Of course you're happy for her and want her to succeed in life, but the selfish part of you wants her to be there until you finish school next year as well. The whole idea of her moving somewhere else in the country where you couldn't see her everyday made you kind of depressed and it's been showing these past few days in your attitude.

You waited a few minutes after the game had ended to go and meet your girlfriend in the locker room to give her and her teammates some time to reconcile after the turnout of tonight's game and do their media interviews. In the meantime you make your way down to the court to go and congratulate some of your friends on the Hawkeye team. You make eye contact with your good friends Kate and Jada immediately running up to them and giving them hugs as it's been a while since the last time you had seen them. “You guys did so well tonight, congratulations!” you told them with a smile. “Thank you, but your girlfriend and her teammates surely didn’t go easy on us tonight.” Kate responded with a light chuckle. This was definitely a bittersweet moment but at the end of the day you had a lot of love for all of these girls so the outcome was bound to be disappointing in some way. 

Jada could sense that something was off and quickly asked you what was wrong. “I think tonight just made me realize that my relationship with Angel is about to have a drastic change and I'm not sure how to feel about it” you replied slowly starting to tear up. “Hey it's okay sweetie” Jada said pulling you into another hug “Have you guys talked about what your plans are when she gets drafted?” she continued. Sure Angel has not formally addressed the fact of her drafting, but it was pretty much guaranteed so you didn't question Jadas assumption of that. You reply with a quick ‘no’, gaining a response from Kate that maybe now is a good time to bring it up giving you a sad smile. “Thank you Kate, but i really don't want to bring down your moods, go celebrate with the rest of your team, i'll catch up with you guys later!” you said giving them a quick hug before saying goodbye and heading to comfort your girlfriend.

You walk into the locker room and you're met with an obviously upset Angel and instantly go to comfort her. “Hey baby” you say, wrapping your arms around her and kissing her forehead, instantly cheering her up. She had always had a soft spot for you and no matter how upset she was, just being next was all she needed to gain a sense of happiness again. “Are you ready to head back to the hotel, we have a long day of traveling tomorrow, so you should get some rest” you told her, causing her to stand up and start grabbing her stuff to head out. She still hadn’t said anything yet but you didn’t want to push her so you just let it be and headed out walking hand in hand with her. 

Once you guys arrived back at the hotel and got settled down you decided to try and talk to her again hoping to get some sort of response. “I'm so proud of you babe, I know it hurts to end everything like this, but look on the bright side you have so much more to look forward to” you said smiling at her. “I know, I’ve just been under so much pressure this past season to defend our title from last year, and we’ve been working so hard I just wanted to end this season with a bang.” she started “I mean i'm proud of how far we got and everything, but winning last year brought so much hate towards not only me but my whole team and I just wanted to prove all of those haters wrong and regain my happiness.” she said, quickly noticing your instant mood change after she finished. “What's wrong?” she asked instantly. You started tearing up again before responding “nothing, it just hurts me to see you hurting so much, to see everything that you've gone through this past year, and just knowing that I won't be able to be there all the time to comfort you when your hurting after you leave to wherever you end up getting drafted” you responded. You hadn't planned on bringing up the conversation this early, but with the draft being in two weeks you figured it would be better to get the conversation going before it was too late. She grabs your face and gives you a quick kiss, “ Y/N, there's nothing for you for you to worry about, I know that wherever we are whether that be together or apart you will always be rooting for me and you are always a call away, sure it's not ideal but you're my number one and i'm yours”  she smiled at you giving you another kiss that was more passionate than the first before urging you to lay down to cuddle and go to bed. 

She wraps her arms around you and you slowly begin to fall asleep, she kisses you one last time on your head and quietly whispers “remember, I love you” pulling you closer and falling asleep. 

[lillchris]

You With The Dark Curls; You With The Water Colured Eyes (Two Shot)

Chapter Two: I'd Start a Riot Word Count: 2.2k

a/n: Title inspo from BANNERS song "Start A Riot" I will try and make this chapter, and future ones longer :) Anyway, enjoy this chapter! Stay Safe love you all <3

BANNERS song below in case you haven't listened to it, or want to! ;)

Start a Riot

TW: Angst, Swearing, anxiety and panic attack

Luckily when Paige walked back inside, Drew wasn't right there carping her with questions, which she was currently thankful for. 

In fact, she didn't know what exactly to think of at the moment. All she could think about was everything Jalen had said in the course of their heated conversation. Even though she was angry with Jalen at the beginning of their discussion, she had tried to keep it civil.  But screw it, it had escalated to anything but a civil conversation by the end of it all. 

The fact that Jalen had the audacity to bring up her parent’s divorce was a very low blow, but yet in all the years that Paige had known him, it didn’t surprise her too much that he would make a comment like that, and it gave Paige yet another reason to never speak to Jalen again.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the couch, Azzi was consumed in her own pool of thoughts. 

She mentally kicked herself for not being able to give Jalen her full what for. She knew that if she somehow did now, it would make the situation worse, and that was the last thing Paige needed.  However, in her mind, she hoped that sometime in the very near future the situation would arise where she could.  She made a mental note and added Jalen to the list of people she wanted to bitch slap. and yes Azzi had a list, and by all means, he deserved it. 

Azzi rose from the couch, silently, walking into the kitchen, eyeing her parents, who were still cleaning the kitchen.  She kept her presence brief as she filled a glass with ice water, as she felt Tim and Katie’s eyes on her.  She said nothing, only glancing at them as her parents frowned.  It was one of those eyes that spoke more than words moments.  Azzi’s expression and demeanor told her parents pretty much everything.  They stayed quiet, as they watched their daughter walk away, before having a conversation of their own. 

Azzi crouched down in front of Paige meeting her eye level with the couch as she handed her the glass of water. 

Their eyes met, and something in Paige softened, as her best friend watched her face relax. 

Azzi was always the one who could do that, no one else.  She somehow made her feel at peace, even in moments when she felt like everything around her was crashing.  She was there for her when she injured her ACL, there for her when she wanted to give up, physically and mentally in rehab, every time. She was there for her when Jalen had broken her heart, letting her cry. Azzi was her safe haven.  Azzi had told Paige once, that she saved her, but in reality, it was vice versa.  To her Azzi was the one who had truly saved her.

Flashback… (November 2022)

Why did this injury even have to happen? One season, please, an injury-free healthy season, that’s what she had hoped for. Longed for, Prayed for, asked God for, but He had different plans. Through the constant painful days of rehab Paige was really starting to wonder what that plan truly was.

“Six months” “Nine months” “Possibly up to a year maybe more.” That’s what she had heard over and over again from Orthopedic Specialists and doctors. “Oh your young and healthy! It might not take that long for recovery!” They’d say or “You should be thankful it isn’t worse.” She didn’t want sympathy or pity, she wanted to be out on the court, playing. Instead she had to watch from the sidelines as her teammates played games she would have been in too if it hadn’t been for this.

She fucking hated it. Being away from the court, being resentful towards her teammates, the jealousy, the envy all of it! She knew she shouldn’t feel that way, but the jealousy always crept in somehow.

Most of all she missed the court, even the sound. The way her shoes would squeak against the hardwood, or the way the rubber and layers upon layers of fiber felt in her hand as she gripped the basketball.

Ball was life, who was she without it if she couldn’t play? She didn’t mean it, but she also didn’t want to lie to herself and not acknowledge that half of that statement wasn’t true, because it was.

Paige mentally cursed herself as one of the therapists aided her in the usual “daily walk” they called it. It was supposed to be a towards the end of the day type of casual walk, but to Paige it was anything but casual. The walk was a fucking menace, as Paige felt every muscle in her right “good leg” burn as it tried to compensate for her bum left one.

She was about to curse out loud but the sound of Azzi’s voice stopped her from doing so. As she glanced over toward the hallway entrance she saw Azzi, her Azzi. Even though she had seen her two days prior, something in Paige always skipped when she saw her. She didn’t know what to root it to, the fact that she missed her or something else. All Paige knew was the she was elated to see her best friend, as even the presence of her encouraged Paige to keep going.

———————————————————————

“Paige! It’s your turn to give me my gift!”Drew said excitedly, snapping his big sister out of her daze, and back into the present moment.

“Oh uh yeah right!” Paige said with a slight smile as she got up from the couch and handed Drew his present.

Paige was trying to be as enthusiastic as she could that evening as everyone opened presents, but her efforts were in vain.

Azzi glanced over at Paige. She knew that the events from this morning were effecting Paige more than she knew, physically Paige was there with everyone, but mentally she was in another place.

Azzi said nothing, as she silently intertwined her fingers with Paige’s, in hopes to help keep her grounded in the moment despite the fact her mind was spiraling.

“Yes! This is exactly what I wanted! Thank you!”Drew said happily before engulfing his big sister in a tight embrace.

Drew was ecstatic about his present, due to the fact he now had a PlayStation Portal. He could easily play Fortnite virtually anywhere, without being tied to his console. Which in turn didn’t help his video game obsession, but Drew was happy and to Paige that’s all that mattered.

“You gotta open yours now.” Azzi said mustering up a smile as she handed Paige a small velvet box.

The content of the box contained a small sliver ring with the wording engraved on the front “My Ride Or Die”. Their initials ‘P&A’ engraved on the inside.

Paige smiled, and chuckled lightly before handing Azzi a slightly bigger velvet box.

Azzi gasped slightly, before laughing a little and smiling upon seeing the item.

Unironically enough, inside was an identical silver stylish bracelet with the same wording on the front and their initials, this time on the back.

"They really are soulmates." Jose whispered to Drew with a laugh making a heart hands toward the two girls jokingly.

"Now we're matching." Paige stated as she carefully placed the bracelet around Azzi's smaller wrist.

---------------------------------------------------

"Alright that's it for me I'm done, I already lost five hotels four houses, and seven hundred dollars. I'm practically broke." Paige says laughing as she sets her play piece on the Monopoly board.

"Yeah, I guess I'm out too, Drew drained me of all resources." Azzi says as she noogies Drew's head jokingly.

"Oh come on it's only 3am. You two are dropping out and going to bed like an old married couple." Jose teases as Paige and Azzi roll their eyes, and walk down the hall toward Azzi's bedroom.

Later that night, silence filled the bedroom as Azzi and Paige lay opposite the queen-sized mattress. They always shared a bed whenever Paige visited the Fudds, so it wasn't out of the norm for them to share a bed, but tonight something was different.

"You awake Paige?" Azzi asked curiously as she lay on her side, before glancing over at Paige who had her back facing her.

"Yeah, um I'm awake." Paige said vaguely not even turning around to face Azzi.

Tonight Paige was closed off like a butterfly, sheltered in the cacoon walls she had put up to protect herself, and no matter what Azzi did she couldn't get through to her. Azzi didn't blame Paige at all for being closed off, but she just wished that Paige would let her carry her burdens; together through all of this.

"You don't have to say anything but, if you do, I'm here to talk or just listen. I'm here; always."

Paige said nothing, but internally she felt like she was on the brink of drowning. All the air left her lungs as she felt as though she was barely keeping her head above water. Her ears felt as though they were burning, her mind was screaming at her. Paige felt as though her heart was beating out of her chest, feeling the ever-looming feeling of nausea rising in her throat. She didn't know what was happening to her. Her senses were shot through the roof, and it was only then did she realize her labored breathing could be heard by Azzi.

"Paige." Azzi's voice stretched out to her, but at this point, her friend was unreachable, as something threatened to pull her under. Take her away from the only thing, the only person who could possibly pull her from the waves she was being taken under by.

"Paige, it's me, Azzi, You're here with me, whatever you're experiencing right now, I'm here with you in this moment." Azzi said softly holding Paige's hand in a desperate attempt to somehow bring her back to this moment.

In Paige's mind, she could hear her best friend calling out to her, but the thoughts and dread that had surpassed her earlier in the day had become all too much for her.

"Paige, can you hear me? I need you to slow down your breathing, long inhales, and exhales."

Paige made slight eye contact with Azzi, despite her eyes still being hazy and glazed over. Her vision was blurry and she could barely make out the shape of Azzi's face, as her fast spurts of breathing threatened to cause her blackout.

"Paige, I can't have you hyperventilating do you remember the grounding techniques we learned in psychology class?

Azzi firmly set both hands on Paige's shoulders, Azzi was damn determined to bring Paige out of this.

"Whatever is happening to you right now, whatever you're thinking it isn't true, none of it is. Whatever Jalen said to you isn't true. Your are an amazing person, you are smart, and kind. Who you love or how you love does not make you less. Your my best friend, your beautiful, and more than deserving of being loved, and to love. Your past circumstances do not define you.

Those words seemed to break through to Paige, as she slowly came back to the present moment. Her vision cleared and she was finally able to see Azzi clearly, as her chocolate brown, gentle eyes stared back into Paige's blue ones.

"I-I." Paige started to say, but Azzi gently shushed her, and she practically collapsed into Azzi's embrace. Paige's walls fell down, and Azzi was there to catch her.

"Shhhh I know, it's okay. I've got you, it's okay you can let it out. "

It made Azzi's heartbreak knowing Paige probably had kept this, and a lot of things pent up for a while now. Paige was always the tough one, the strong one, the leader. She was always there for others, but no one was there for her, not truly at least. She never really had any way or anyone she could talk to about everything.

Don't get Azzi wrong, she loved Paige's family, but she always wondered why her parents split when she was so young. She knew it was a very sensitive subject for Paige, and she respected that, but her mind always wondered. Azzi recalled when had taken Psychology I, that the earliest a child could remember things was age three. While it was often spotty and vague, a child would start to remember.

Azzi hated the fact that Paige had no one to talk to about this matter and everything else in between. From that moment on, Azzi made a promise to herself; that she would be that somebody.

Paige's sobs subsided, as Azzi looked down at her, realizing she had fallen asleep in her arms, utterly drained and exhausted.

Azzi sighed, laying Paige in her bed again as she climbed in beside her, thankful now that she was finally sleeping peacefully. It was only when Azzi heard Paige's snoring that was she satisfied.

Paige cuddled up to Azzi, as she softly planted a kiss on Paige's forehead. Usually, Azzi would be annoyed by her snoring, but tonight it was a more than welcome gift.

a/n: That's it, I know that this chapter was a bit deeper, and had some sensitive topics, but I promise to have more fluff in the future!! As always I would love to hear what you all think! <3