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xmoriartea · 14 days ago

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SVSSS!Sibling Transmigration AU

Based so very loosely on this glorious art by @nibbelraz

Airplane transmigrates into the youngest infant son of the Shang family (and God damn he deserves better than this System he is their god!! Daddy Airplane?? Heard of him?? These people should not be changing his damn diaper hello??)

Shang Qinghua is already a young disciple when he visits home and meets his little brother for the first time and does no one else see there is something... off about this kid?

He makes regular trips home afterwards, eventually using An Ding logistics to find reasons to be near his hometown more frequently (and really does no one else see this kid is weird?)

Bby!Airplane is just too smart. SQH is convinced he saw the kid make eye contact with him once when he caught him stealing a dumpling behind their mother's back and it was like looking into the eyes of a demon who'd gut him if he snitched and not a human toddler

It doesn't get better as Airplane gets older and SQH hears him muttering about 1. things he shouldn't know at all regarding the sect when he thinks SQH isn't listening and 2. absolute nonsense (what System has done you so wrong didi?? you are four??)

Before Airplane is old enough to reasonably join the sect, SQH brings him back to the mountain anyway. He is fairly certain his brother is a seer and if that's the case, he's keeping the little welp close at hand

Airplane infinitely regrets how much bullshit he made An Ding deal with to ""hand wave lazy writing"" (shut up peerless cucumber!! he was writing porn not project management!!) but even just watching SQH run himself ragged over the peak has bby him exhausted (no wonder he ratted y'all out to the king yeesh)

He spends his early years as a disciple just following SQH and sometimes nudging his gege into record shattering discoveries because SQH will pat his head when he realizes and take him down the mountain for noodles afterwards (gg easy)

Airplane is a proper disciple in his own right in his teens when his notes and his story get jumbled in a way that has him tripping into one of his shixiongs when he hears the rumors - Head Disciple SJ returned to the mountain with a little brother (record screech glass shattering huh???)

Meanwhile, Shen Yuan transmigrated into Shen Jiu's unnamed younger half-brother After finding stability at the sect, Shen Jiu looks into his birth mother, knowing she sold him off when he was a child What he finds in Airplane's unwritten notes is a Fantine-Cosette backstory where his mother, a courtesan, gave him away to a good family after he was born. She sent them regular payments to ensure his care, but only found out when she was pregnant with SY that they had sold SJ off and were pocketing her money Unable to find SJ and unwilling to risk SY, she and the other courtesans raised SY within the brothel SY transmigrates into the body of a child at his sick mother's bedside with a twisted sense of deja vu having just vacated his own deathbed He doesn't know where he is, but if the orphan protagonist can make it to the sect, so can he right? (Transmigrator Halo? System? System why are you laughing??) He's barely into his second teens when SJ finds him. It takes no time at all after learning the truth for SJ to demand SY's guardianship and whisk him back to Qing Ding (See System? He DOES have a Transmigrator Halo, even if it is attached to the scum villain) SY is honestly shocked by how concerned(?) SJ is when packing his meager possessions. (No Jiu-ge (ew) no one has ever harmed him or touched him wtf would make you think they had?? He's baby??) It takes some time for glaciers to melt and for SJ to let SY in, but SY was raised around kind jiejies who taught him to be better than their worst clients and SJ feels safe around this little brat in a way he can't explain (SJ has had SY for five minutes but if anything happens to him SJ is taking out the entire mountain and then himself) YQY has NO idea how to react when SJ first returns with his brother, but he doesn't hesitate to smooth the way for SY's discipleship and watches from afar as SJ begins to finally let someone in, even if it's not him

SQH keeps telling Airplane he needs to work on his muttering to himself, that it's going to get him in trouble (bro you don't even know) but for once it's in his favor because SY overhears him just enough while YQY is sorting his shit out on arrival and suddenly they're just two spidermen pointing at each other on the peak

Cue the shenanigans of two hometown boys who have no bearing on the plot at all and are just along for the ride while their siblings handle the peaks. Anytime Qing Ding and An Ding need to work together on missions, these two volunteer and confuse the hell out of their martial siblings every step of the way

SJ does not trust the little logistics rat anywhere near his didi and glowers like an alley cat anytime Airplane is around (SQH is right, ofc. His brother IS weird and SJ does not trust it)

SQH meanwhile takes note of his weird didi's sudden and first friendship with SY and immediately starts keeping tabs on this kid because clearly Airplane's seerhood has steered him to SY for a reason, must keep note

The first time LQG makes any sort of fuss about SJ going to a brothel, SY forgets everything he's learned at the sect as Little Brother Mode™ activates to defend not only SJ but his jiejies too. (Fists are thrown. Hair is pulled. He might have bitten his shixiong, he can't say. He sort of blacked out for a minute there) Needless to say there isn't a second time and LQG has an hour long argument with his shizun about trying to poach SY for Bai Zhan peak while nursing a black eye (Airplane just side eying the GREMLIN that transmigrated here like bro wtf)

Before LBH even steps foot on the mountain, both their Systems ping about the incoming protagonist and it's not that they, you know, forgot about the story but they were distracted. Between finding each other and actually weirdly coming to care for these NPCs they... lost track of time

But the System pings and LBH enters the scene and SY refuses to let Airplane's work repeat itself (we're making your notes canon bro stfu and follow my lead. (what lead??? what plan??) I'm working on it!!)

It's a 50/50 crap shoot if SYs favoritism of bby!Binghe endears him to SJ or spikes up the resentment, but SY refuses to let harm come to LBH or for SJ to become the scum villain (someone is yelling, it might be SJ, it might be SY, it might be Binghe who doesn't want Shizun and Shixiong fighting over him)

On the other side of the plot, SQH is still a little snitch, even with his didi's visions guiding him to unprecedented success - but it's more than betraying the sect, more than wanting power and recognition. Seers are insanely powerful, highly sought after. Bringing Airplane to the sect protected him for awhile but SQH can't let him become a target. So when the OG meets MBJ, all his calculations come to a single unfortunate answer: throw your lot in with the biggest fish to protect Airplane (no one else can understand how weird his brother is because if they do his brother will end up dead)

Flash forward to when Airplane is squinting at his brother wearing fur collars year round, always running a little bit chilly for unknown reasons but refusing to see MQF about it. Airplane insists on SQH letting him check his meridians if he won't see MQF and SQH relents, puts his wrist in Airplane's hand, and squawks like a goddamn chicken when Airplane yanks his arm and tugs down his collar to reveal the mark of MBJ on his collarbone and SQH is once again met with that dead eyed 'bro do not fuck with me' stare

SQH does not question how Airplane knows, he just insists on Airplane staying far far away from MBJ (he might work for the demon, but he certainly does not trust him)

Of course Airplane defies all reason and knows the exact secret rendezvous point SQH uses (he did not suffer puberty twice to be denied seeing his most precious creation in the flesh, gege) and is spotted spying on the spy almost instantly by MBJ who is just holding him by his scruff and looking between a wide eyed Airplane and a barely-restrained-panicked peak lord like 'why oh why are there two of them'

Cue a full stand off between a demon and peak lord, ice knives at SQH's throat, a blade hovering at MBJ's heart, and Airplane just held like a kitten between them like fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck that SOMEHOW ends with MBJ rationalizing 'ah this weird mouse is important to my viper of a spy - if I want to keep the viper loyal, I will protect this mouse'

Which throws the Sheng brothers into a mess that neither of them know how to deal with. SQH thinks he needs to continue to be excessively useful to keep Airplane safe. Airplane can't let MBJ know he's his brother's best source or the demon might cut out the middle man. (Meanwhile somewhere MBJ just out here planning to court this weird little mouse to tie SQH's loyalties to him)

Whatever circumstances causes the Abyss plotline to trigger, SY 500% throws himself in after Binghe leaving SJ partially feral because his didi is in danger, Airplane CONCERNED, and SQH just casually like 'oh that's why my brother was interested in him, interesting' not at all realizing no, SY is likely just about to become his boss(-brother-in-law)'s boss's consort - whoops! whoops! whoops!

#svsss #svsss sibling au #moshang #bingqiu #i saw the art of the shang brothers and my mind hasnt shut up about it #but I also dont have the will to do a fic rn #so here are my airplane rambling notes lmao

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aquaticmercy · 1 month ago

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Temple

Summary : Bucky Barnes is struggling to say ‘I love you,’ so he says other things to make sure you know he cares.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader (she/her)

Warnings/tags : description of violence.

Requested by : myself

Word count : 1.1k

Note : This was inspired by the song ‘Temple’ by Kings of Leon. I am going to alternate between my own ideas and a request every day. Please bear with me! I have a lot of requests in my inbox, so it might take a while to get to you. Enjoy!

Requests are open!

The night was your favourite time of the day.

Especially the summer nights, where you had nothing to do but bask in the warmth and the moonlight that casted a silver light over the skyline.

You and Bucky sat side by side on the fire escape of your apartment, legs dangling over the edge, the usual quiet between you familiar and comfortable.

Over the past year, he had become your best friend, if not something more.

It wasn’t that you didn't care for each in that sense— you most definitely did. You’ve been seeing each other exclusively for the past couple of months, and you just haven't put a label on this yet. You didn’t want to rush it. You both wanted it to find its course. Letting it be natural.

You took a deep breath, letting the silence wash over you. It was moments like these that you treasure most with Bucky. The calm. The peace. The rare softness in his presence.

He shifted beside you, metal arm bumping softly against the railing, letting out a gentle clink. You turned to him, watching his brow furrowing, as if he was wrestling with something underneath his tough exterior.

This was not unusual; Bucky was a man of few words when it comes to how he felt. It did not matter to you much that he struggled to say the words aloud, since he showed you in a thousand ways that he cares.

You watched him a little closer. There was something on his mind—something he’s been holding onto. You didn’t need to ask, but could feel it.

“You okay, Buck?” you asked softly, nudging his arm with your elbow. “You’re quiet tonight.”

He didn’t respond right away. He stared out at the city, eyes distant. Then he exhaled sharply, like he'd just made up his mind about something.

“I’d take a bullet in the temple for you,” he said. His voice was low and grounded. He had thought this through, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by how… intense his statement was.

It was not the first time he had said something like this. Bucky had always had a strange way of expressing how much you meant to him. It always caught you by surprise.

“I’d die for you,” he continued. His beautiful blue eyes softened, gaze still locked on the night sky. “If anyone tried to hurt you, I’d hunt them down and make them pay.”

Your mouth curved into a sweet smile, though it was a bit bittersweet.

He had always done this— he said the most visceral, violent things to make sure you know how much you meant to him. Still, you have accepted that this was his way of expressing his feelings, even if it wasn’t what you expected when you first fell for him.

“I know you would,” you replied softly. You reached out and placed your fingers on top of his human hand, hoping you could ground him in the moment. “But you don’t have to die for me, Bucky.”

He finally looked at you, eyes flickering with a vulnerability you rarely ever say. He clenched his jaw, as if he were fighting to keep whatever it is he really meant inside, where it would be safe and sound.

“But I would,” he insisted. His voice was barely above a whisper now. “I’d give up everything if it meant keeping you safe.”

Your heart raced at the sincerity in his tone. He meant every word— you know that. You couldn’t help the ache in your chest, knowing that he was struggling to string his thoughts together into a cohesive, normal sentence.

“I don’t need you to sacrifice yourself for me,” you said gently. You brushed your thumb over the back of his hand in soft circles. “I just need you.”

He watched you for a long moment, the small flame of frustration growing behind his blue eyes.

“If I lost you…” His breath hitched at the mere thought of it. His metal fingers clenched into a fist at his side. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’d burn the world down for you. I’d… I’d die before I let that happen.”

You sighed softly, squeezing his hand, trying to soothe the burning tension that radiated off him. He had always been so ready to protect you, to throw himself into the line of fire without a second thought. And while you appreciated his fierce loyalty, you didn’t want him to bear the weight of your safety like it was the only way to prove he cared.

“I’m not going anywhere, Buck,” you reassured him. You placed your head on his shoulders, taking in the scent of his vanilla aftershave, the one you liked so much. “You don’t have to go to those extremes to show me how you feel.”

He turned silent again. You could almost see the cogs turning in his mind. His lips parted again, hesitating only a little bit.

“I’d… I’d take a knife to the gut for you,” he said finally, his voice strained. “I’d let them—”

“Bucky,” You cut him off with a sigh, a hint of exasperation in it. “Stop. Please.”

He froze, staring at you like you had just pulled the rug out from under him.

“I get it. I really do.” You shook your head gently, turning to face him. You searched his eyes, trying to reach the part of him that’s been so afraid to tell you exactly how he felt. “But you don’t have to say it like that.”

He swallowed hard, and for the first time in a long time, you saw fear in his eyes.

The fear of not being enough, of saying the wrong thing. The fear of messing this up.

It was heartbreaking. You wished you could make him understand that he doesn’t need to bleed out to prove his affection for you.

“I just…” His voice cracked, and looking away again. His jaw tensed. “I don’t know how to say it.”

You took a sharp inhale, the realisation crashing onto you like a wave.

All those graphic, violent declarations of loyalty—they were his way of telling you he loved you.

He had been struggling to say something so simple, so human.

“I love you too, Bucky,” you finally whispered.

His eyes found yours, widening in surprise.

You reached out, cupping his cheek, brushing your thumb over the rough stubble on his jawline. You finally understood. “I- I already know.”

He leaned into your touch, eyes closing briefly, finally letting himself believe what he knew to be true all along. When he opened them again, there was something more vulnerable in his gaze.

“I’m trying,” he admitted quietly.

You smiled, leaning in to press the gentlest kiss to his lips. “I know.”

And for now, that’s enough.

-end

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cressidagrey · 6 days ago

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Holy Ground - Chapter 3

Summary:

Nobody knew that Azriel found his mate. Until she nearly died. This is the aftermath.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), Inner Circle Bashing (kinda), Referenced/Implied Sexual Assault, Referenced/Implied Domestic Violence, Discussion of Religion(?), Chronic Injury/Pain/Illness, Minor Character Death (It's probably nobody you love), Magical Work Accidents, Explosions, Injuries

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

The library was supposed to be a safe space. The priestesses were supposed to be sheltered there.

A place far away from the terrors of the world. A place where they could study and learn far from the grasp of those who would harm them.

But clearly today that peace had been destroyed, Rhys reflected weakly.

Merrill was dead.

Neither Cassian or Rhys had let Gwyn see the…carnage of that, Nesta and Emerie bracketing her away from…her fellow priestesses’ corpse…and Irena…

Rhys had to keep repeating the words to himself, over and over again. Like a litany, a prayer, desperately trying to make them stick.

Irena was alive. Irena would be fine.

She would be alright, even though she looked so, so pale, deathly pale in Azriel's arms.

Irena.

Irena, who Azriel had saved around two centuries ago…

Not from the horrors of the war but from her husband.

The daughter of a merchant, married off young, to one of the richest men in the midlands…she had been raised to run an estate…had excelled at it in fact. And her husband had excelled in killing young girls.

The things he had put her through... The things he had done...

Azriel, who had found her and brought her to Velaris had been shocked that she'd stayed in one piece to be honest. Rhys had been shocked too.

And once she had been in the library…she had excelled once more.

Rhys had gotten long used to see her handwriting, not long suffering Clotho’s, fill out the sheets with expenditures and acquisitions.

She had cut the fat, made sure that the House of Wind was self sufficient, thanks to research requests being able to be submitted, thanks to patents and the gardens…

Irena had been a godssend. Literally.

Rhys wasn't quite sure how they had survived before her.

But the last fucking thing he had expected was that…her and Azriel were…mates.

Rhysand had not seen that coming in a million years

But there was no question about it.

If Irena's thoughts, an utter mess of shock and pain and grief and agony...with the only thing that ran through it the whole time was her thread to Azriel wouldn't have been a dead giveaway...then it would have been Azriel's behaviour.

Azriel who had gone on his knees next to the priestess, his hands slick with her blood and had simply clung to her. He had begged her, his voice broken.

Rhys would never forget the sound of his brother's voice, the pure desperation bleeding from every single letter. Please. We haven't had enough time. I am going to be so furious with you if you die. We may have our first fight. Don't you dare. Open your eyes. Look at me, love. You can't go. Fight.

That look on Azriel's face as he had held her close, refusing to let go as he tried to will her back from death's clutches. The words he had kept murmuring like a prayer. A desperate mantra to the Mother, the Cauldron, anyone who would listen.

Azriel was never the most expressive of them. He rarely even showed a flicker of emotion for most things. To see him lose so much control, to beg. To see tears in his eyes. None of them had ever seen him like that before, had ever even considered the possibility of him acting like that.

He was always composed. Always calm, collected, in control. To see him on his knees next to Irena, begging her not to leave as he pressed kisses to her forehead and kept telling her to stay with him…

For a moment, it had felt like he had forgotten the others even existed. That nothing had mattered except her pulse, the slight rise and fall of her chest. The only thing that had mattered to him in that moment was that she was still with him, still alive.

She was important to him. There was no question about it.

Sometime during the last few years, that Priestess had become the Shadowsinger’s whole focus.

Sometime in the past, Irena had become Azriel's whole world.

And Rhys hadn't known. Had known nothing about this.

He could feel the guilt clawing up inside him.

Rhys had had no fucking clue this was happening, right underneath his nose.

That he had never noticed that Azriel's eyes lingered on Irena…had never noticed that Azriel sought her company…hadn’t known that Azriel had spent time with her…

Rhys hadn't known. Hadn't...hadn't even thought about it.

Azriel had pulled back from them after that catastrophic solstice and Rhys had let him. Had thought that Azriel needed to lick his wounds...that maybe then he would see it Rhysand's way...but none of this happened.

Azriel had kept his anger tightly leashed, even though Rhys had gotten a taste of it every time he badgered him. But Azriel hadn’t exploded.

Instead, he had been vicious in throwing Rhysan’ own words back into his face.

There didn’t pass one day where Rhys didn’t regret that one sentence, because Azriel was clearly… furious about it.

Azriel had grown distant...cold...unfeeling. And Rhys had badgered him and got on his nerves and figured that if Azriel would just get it out of his system… but he didn't. Didn't get angry. Didn't fight. Didn't scream...Rhys would have preferred it if he did.

What wouldn't he give to have that old Azriel back, the one who actually got mad? Who didn't just accept everything with a nod and a word of acknowledgment. Who talked to Rhysand, who told him when he'd done something wrong. Who fought with him if he went too far, who made his opinion known. Who told him to his face when he was being an arrogant prick, who didn't just accept his commands with a quiet nod.

But now it made sense. Azriel hadn't fucking cared what Rhys did, what any of the did, because his priorities had been rearranged completely. As long as he could get home to his priestess...he hadn't cared.

He did all the missions Rhys had for him and then went home to the House of Wind and found one quiet corner or another to romance his mate, out of the view from everybody else.

And that was the worst part. That Rhys had been such a prick to Azriel, so wrapped up in his own worries, his own fears, that he hadn't even noticed that something had shifted so fundamentally in his brother. Had pushed him so far away.

Rhys had thought that they were simply…in a rought spot. That in a few years, Azriel would be over Elain and it would be done. But now Rhys realised that…that it wasn’t about Elain. Not really.

Rhys had never realized how deep this was, how close to the breaking point he'd taken his brother.

Deep enough that the fact that Azriel had found his mate...that was something that Azriel didn't share with any of them. Something that happy... Azriel had just kept silent.

Azriel hadn’t trusted them with the most treasured and precious thing in his life.

And that hurt. Hurt more than he could put into words.

That Azriel had found the one person who he was destined for, the only one who was perfect for him in the entire world. The one person who would love and cherish him, who would complete him, who would accept him as he was, who would understand him...and he hadn't told Rhys. Hadn't told any of them.

Azriel hadn't told anyone that he had found his mate.

Had kept that to himself for who knew how long. Just how long had it been? When had he figured out they were mated?

“Bring her to her room,” Madja said at the moment. And Rhys watched as seemingly some colour went back into Irena's cheeks, her eyes closed, her breathing still laboured…her mind filled with Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. and Safe, Safe, Safe.

“My room,” Azriel corrected, his voice fierce. The mating instincts must have gone completely haywire at that very moment, not soothed at all, even when he had pressed a kiss against her forehead moments before.

.“Your room?” Gwyn asked sharply, staring at Azriel, then at still, quiet Irena. She seemed to be utterly shell-shocked, not that Rhys could fault her.

"Gwyn," Rhys said carefully. It was best if none of them...interfered right now. This was between Azriel and his mate.

"Az, how long have the two of you..." Cassian asked, clearly having come to the same conclusion, but Rhys interrupted him. *Leave him be,* he warned their brother.

*Leave him be?! I had no idea that he and Irena are...whatever the fuck they are!*

“Two years. She’s my mate,” Azriel answered, not even looking at any of them, completely concentrated on said mate.

"Mate," Irena agreed weakly. "Mine."

"Yours," Azriel agreed, his voice hoarse, as he picked her up carefully like his mate was made out of spun glass. "Let's tuck you into bed, Love," he told her softly.

And off his spymaster went carrying the priestess that was his mate.

Rhys could just stare after them.

"Did you know?" Cassian demanded sharply.

"I had absolutely no fucking clue," Rhys admitted weakly.

He felt the guilt swirling inside him, deep and bitter and vicious. He should have known. He should have realized and supported Azriel.

But it had been Rhys who had pushed him so far away that he hadn't told him. That he didn't even think that he could tell Rhys that he had found his mate.

And it hurt. Gods, it hurt. To know that Azriel had kept something that he should have been so happy about to himself just so he wouldn't have to deal with Rhys's bullshit.

Cassian started barking orders...About a stretcher and about Merrill's body...It would be taken away and prepared for the last rites.

It wasn't often that one of the priestesses died. It wasn't...They were safe here. They were supposed to be safe here...but whatever happened in this room…

“What even happened?” Rhys asked, as he turned around to surview the carnage.

It was bad. Really bad.

“Irena went to talk to Merill, because Merrill got…angry with one of the newer acolytes…” Gwyn said, her voice shaky. “Merrill was in a bad mood because Irena forbid her newest research project.”

Her newest research project? It was well known that Merrill was brilliant. So for Irena to…

"Why did she forbid it?" Rhys asked curiously.

"It involved some form of spell crafting. Irena wanted Merrill to have supervision from a spellcrafter, because it was a language that none of us actually understood and we didn’t eve know about what kind of spell it was…Merill didn't think that was needed," Gwyn said weakly, wiping away tears. "And now look where that got us. God, how could Merrill be this stupid?"

"It wasn't stupidity, it was probably arrogance," Cassian said with a sigh. "It's dumb luck that only...that only Irena got hurt.

Rhys couldn't but agree with Cassian's assessment. It was a miracle that Irena was alive. That she'd survived when Merrill’s body was…near unrecognisable….clearly it had been closer to whatever had blown up in their faces

Merrill had probably thought she knew what she was doing, but she didn't have the skill or training to work on advanced spell work. I

rena wasn’t the type of person who would deny research on a whim either. If she believed that Merrill needed supervision then Merrill had needed supervision.

Irena was clever. And cautious.

Azriel's mate was a damn good judge of character after all.

Gods, Azriel's mate. What a thought…

The spymaster and the priestess. Rhys’ near silent brother and…and gentle, caring Irena, the beating heart of the library.

Rhys would need to wrap his mind around that in private.

“I’ll seal…this room,” Rhys said quietly. So nobody could enter. And then he would probably turn Amren loose in it, to turn around every fucking stone, so that they figured out what that spell had been that had reacted like it. The last thing they needed was for the spell to have any sort of consequences that involved Irena.

"Clotho," he greeted the priestess as she arrived, inclining his head.

What happened? she demanded, holding out her usual piece of paper.

Rhys felt his stomach churn at that question.

How the hell were they supposed to tell Clotho that not only one of the priestesses had tragically died…but one of the others was currently holed up in an Illyrian warrior's room, recovering from injuries that should have killed her, and that said Illyrian warrior was said priestess's mate, so was probably not going to leave her alone anytime soon?

And that was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to the absolute clusterfuck this whole situation was. There was nothing to do except to simply tell Clotho the truth and hope that she didn't have a breakdown.

"There was an...accident. Merrill is dead," he told her bluntly.

For a moment Clotho was just frozen in place. But he could tell that his words had hit her hard. That she was shocked, horrified, stunned beyond belief. HOW?!

And Rhys took a deep breath, trying to find a way to explain what had happened.

To explain how one of her charges had been killed in a room where she was supposed to be safe…How her own experimentation, her own research had killed her…

And how no one had even noticed that a priestess had been mated.

No...how the shadowsinger had mated to a Priestess and hadn't even thought to tell them because Rhys had acted like such as bastard to his brotherthat Azriel had actually thought it preferable to keep his mating bond a secret.

"Merill didn't listen when Irena turned down her research proposal," Gwyn said suddenly with a shaky voice. "Irena went to talk to her this afternoon, because Merill made Meera cry...It looks like the spell that she was taking apart went...haywire. Merill was killed in the backlash...Irena was hurt.”

Rhys just nodded. It was a reasonable explanation, even if it didn't cover everything that had gone on. At this point in time, he was almost more concerned about Clotho than anything else. The poor female looked ready to collapse.

I told Merill to keep away from that spellbook. We still don’t know what it even contained, Clotho agreed, even her handwriting looking shaky.

He could tell that she was in shock and grief. Could imagine how she must be feeling. Clotho protected the Priestesses with all she had. They were her flock. To lose one of her charges...There was no way that Clotho would not blame herself.

She was going to blame herself for something that wasn't her fault at all. And the thought made Rhys feel sick to his stomach.

Clotho had enough weight on her shoulders already, the last thing she needed was guilt over something that was not even her fault.

IRENA?! Clotho demanded sharply.

"Alive, if just barely," Rhys informed her, trying to push down his own guilt at the thought. "Madja is with her."

In the dormitory?

"No, in Azriel's room," Cassian said bluntly. "Apparently they have been mates for... two years.”

Clotho's head snapped around, facing Cassian, her eyes wide.

Nobody had seen that coming, not even one of Irena’s closest friends.

It seemed like both of them had kept it quiet. Azriel must have so badly wanted to protect his mate from…from him, that…

The thought made Rhys feel sick. Azriel would rather keep his mate a secret than reveal to Rhys that he had found her.

Than tell him that he had found his perfect match, that there was a female in this world that loved him above all others, who understood him, who supported him.

And it was all Rhys' own fault.

He didn't have any other thought. There was no other explanation. If a friend didn't trust him enough to confide in him that he had found his mate, it was because he had done something wrong. So wrong that Azriel hadn't felt like he could tell him.

She wanted to be with him? Clotho demanded.

"From the look of it, she was barely conscious, but still claimed him as hers. And Azriel certainly seemed to think that she would want to be with him," Rhys told Clotho.

And why wouldn't she? He was her mate. Her mate.

"He won't do anything to her," Cassian said fiercely. "She's his mate."

Rhys agreed with that. Of all the males in existence, Azriel was by far the least likely to do anything that Irena would not like. Hell, he wouldn't do anything that might make her even feel mildly uncomfortable. And if she told him to back off, he would give her as much space as she needed.

"Mor, whatever Clotho needs," he told his cousin, who had brought Madja there, who just inclined her head, seemingly shaken. "I'll seal of this room...we'll need to...figure out what to do with it," he said softly. "Clotho, whatever form of memorial you would like to hold...take all the time you need and then let me know."

Clotho looked at him sharply before nodding weakly. She probably wouldn't need his help when it came to something like this. She knew how to handle something like this. How to give her fallen a last farewell.

"I want to check on Irena," Gwyn said, her hands shaking as she crossed her arms.

Rhys nodded. That was fair. Of course Gwyn wanted to check on her friend. And at this point all anyone could really do was wait anyway. "Let me seal the room and then we can go," he said softly. "But I need to warn you, Azriel will be...overprotective," he told her. "Chances are, he won't let you get close to her at all."

"I don't have any doubt about that," Gwyn said dryly. "But she's my friend. I should at least be allowed to check on her."

***

He cleaned the blood of her skin...The shadows procured one of Irena's nightgowns. She didn't protest when he held her up and Madja pulled the soiled, ruined dress from her body...didn't even flinch away from his touch on her naked skin.

They had never gone further than some heated...kisses...further than his hands slipping under her nightgown and pressing against her soft skin. He had never wanted to push. Azriel had been willing to give her all the time in the world.

It had taken months until she had been ready for a hug…longer for a kiss. And he had waited. Gladly. He had gladly waited, because it was worth the wait. She was worth the wait.

Her marriage wasn't something that she was just going to get over, and Azriel was never ever going to push her for more than she willingly offered him.

He had never wanted to undress her under these circumstances. So he closed his eyes, and pressed a kiss to her head, not looking at all.

Irena didn't make a sound, didn't even really respond...just stared into the distance. He wasn't even sure she really noticed what was happening to her. Wasn't sure she even noticed Madja cleaning the wounds…cleaning thin, silver lines, scars of her past, mostly hidden by her clothing, but still visible.

This was also when they saw the rest of the wounds...and the fact that her bad leg was broken.

Madja bandaged it carefully, stuffing pillows underneath it to keep it elevated, wrapped the rest of her bruises and scrapes with a tincture.

Still, once she was clean, no more debris in her hair, her skin as clean as he could get it...and the new nightgown was fitted over her skin, he tugged her underneath the thick goose feather stuffed duvet and then the furs.

There was no resistance on Irena’s part. She just let him do as he pleased, let herself be maneuvered and tucked in with the patience of a parent settling a little girl into bed. She didn't say anything. Didn't protest at all, even when he curled his own large body around her smaller frame, even when his wings came around her, shielding her from the outside world.

But she didn't move to snuggle up to him either. Didn't reach for him, didn't try to press her body into his. Just...allowed him to pull her close and hold her as tightly as he wanted. Her body was limp and unmoving, the only emotion on her face a sort of...emptiness. A blank expression that...it was terrifying.

He wrapped his arms around her with a sigh, running a gentle hand through her hair with a sigh. He knew that she was in shock. That she had just survived something terrible, something traumatic. So it wasn't surprising that she wasn't really responsive at the moment, that her skin felt like ice to him and that she was shaking slightly, trembling…

But the instinct to comfort her, to protect her from everything that might hurt her was roaring in his chest. He couldn't pull away from her, even though he knew he should. Even though he knew he should just be thankful that he had her, that she was here, in his hands, breathing.

She felt so thin in his hands. So fragile. Like she might break if he didn't hold her close. And that feeling, the knowledge of how vulnerable his mate was, it was almost too much for him to bear.

“I have pain potions and a sleeping draught,” Madja said quietly.

Azriel felt his jaw clench at the mention of a sleeping draught. He wanted Irena to rest, needed her to sleep away some of the horrors, but there was also some instinct in him that revolted at the idea of making her vulnerable like that. That revolted at the thought of knocking his mate out when she couldn't protect herself.

“Is that alright, love?” He asked her softly.

She didn't answer. Didn't even stir. The only sign that she had heard his question at all was the way her fingers clenched more tightly in his shirt. The only outward sign that she even understood that he was there at all. That she could even hear him. "Love?" He asked again, his voice a gentle murmur. "Do you want the sleeping draught, love?"

“Sleep?” She repeated weakly.

“Sleep.” He promised her.

She simply opened her mouth in response, letting him pour it down her throat and swallowed.

He ran gentle fingers through her hair as the potion began to take effect. As her eyelids drooped and her limbs went loose and he could almost watch the tension leaving her body. He couldn't help but press a soft, tender kiss to the crown of her head.

Azriel couldn't put into words how good it felt to have her in his arms like this. To have her safe and protected and healing.

Madja left with the promise to be back soon…and as soon as she left there was a knock at the door. He didn’t want to deal with his brothers.

*We could bar the door, master,* the shadows offered.

Azriel considered that for a long moment. It was tempting. Really, really tempting to just let the shadows seal the door and tell everyone to fuck off. That they could deal with the rest of the world later and he could just focus on Irena for now.

He knew that he couldn't though. Knew that he couldn't keep the world away from Irena. For all that he would like to protect her from all the harm in this world and lock her away into the safety of his arms, he knew that he couldn't do that. And that Rhys would throw a fit if he didn't let them in immediately.

He sighed softly, his arms tightening around his mate. He didn't want to deal with his brothers right now. Didn't want to deal with Rhys lecturing him about his decisions. Didn't want the pity and understanding in Cassian's eyes, his careful kindness. He didn't want to have to hold up the strong facade when his brother pushed and pushed and pushed.

“Come in,” he said flatly.

Azriel sighed softly as the door was opened and his brothers entered, both looking at him with concern. There was something else in Rhys' eyes, something that he wasn't sure how to name. The High Lord had an indecipherable look on his face as he moved to come stand next to the bed.

But it was Gwyn that shouldered both Rhys and Cassian out of the way, that immediately went to Irena’s bedside.

“She’s asleep,” he warned her softly. “Madja gave her a sleeping draught.”

The Valkyrie moved in silence, but Azriel could tell that she desperately wanted to reach out and touch her friend. Could tell that there was some instinct in her to touch Irena, to comfort her, that she was fighting against. He almost felt bad for her, knowing how hard it must have been to hold back that urge to offer comfort, knowing how desperately she had to want to soothe her friend's pain.

He knew that the two of them were close. That Irena was well liked by practically every priestess…That Roslin was her very best friend, but that she also got along with seemingly everybody else, including Gwyn.

And he wanted to let her get close to his mate. He really did. But the need to keep his mate safe was too strong. Was something that he couldn't fight against. So he just pulled Irena more firmly into his chest.

His only saving grace was that Gwyn seemed to understand. Didn't even try to argue with him or demand to get close to his mate. She just stayed at a respectable distance and didn't protest when he pulled Irena closer to his chest.

He could tell that she recognized his possessive nature for what it was. Just a desperate instinct to hold and protect his mate from further harm. And she didn't argue with him.

“You are the one who gets her the tea and the cookies, aren’t you?” She asked him suddenly. “I was wondering where she got them from. They were always good but the tea has definitely gotten better the last two years.”

*See, Master?!* the shadows cooed, seemingly heaving and then coming to blanket Irena in their very presence too. *We are getting her the best tea!*

They seemed very pleased with themselves.

Azriel knew that when he wasn’t in Velaris, some of the shadows even kept Irena company through the night, cuddling themselves beneath her blankets with her. He also knew that Irena loved it.

Knew better than anyone even his shadows that those moments of comfort, those little gestures, mattered more to his mate than any large gifts ever could. Irena had never cared about large gestures, about pricy gifts, didn’t care about gifts or public displays of affection.

But those little things…she loved those little things. Loved her shadows coming to spend time with her…loved it when he gave her a back rub to ease the pain in her back, or when the shadows brought her the tea that she liked or her favourite cookies.

And Azriel…he loved giving her that. He was happy to provide each and every one of them. He would do anything for her at this point. Would bring her anything that she asked for with enthusiasm. Because he loved it when her face lit up or when she smiled when he brought her something she didn't expect to get. That was something that he would never get tired of.

Azriel would never get tired of watching her face light up with happiness at the smallest of gifts that he gave her. Would never tire of feeling those little gestures bring her even a small moment of happiness. It brought him somuch joy to see her delighted by something so small. Made something inside of him fill with warmth.

“I’ll let her sleep,” Gwyn said softly. “Tell her when she’s awake that she owes us all the gossip. None of us had a clue that the two of you were seeing each other.”

Azriel inclined his head in response, a soft grin pulling at his lips despite everything. "I'll be sure to tell her." Not that he thought that there was anything to gossip about.

Gwyn left with another smile. Which left him with his brothers.

“Az.” Cassian said with a weary sigh. ”What the fuck.”

Azriel frowned sharply, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he looked at his brother. His arms tightened around Irena unconsciously, the protective instinct coming into play.

He knew Cassian, knew all too well that his brother liked to be a pain in his ass, liked to push him further than he wanted to be pushed. "I'm not in the mood for your bullshit, Cassian," he warned his brother in a low growl. "Say whatever it is that you feel the need to say, and then get out."

He knew that he probably looked completely insane. Knew that he looked like a madman clutching onto Irena with an iron grip and growling at anyone who dared get too close. But he couldn't help it. Couldn't help the instincts that seemed to be pulling at every muscle in his body, couldn't stop the tension that was coiling tight as a spring.

“How long has… this been going on?“ Rhys asked delicately.

“Two years at next Starfall,“ Azriel answered flatly.

Cassian whistled softly at that. "Two years?!" He asked incredulously. "And you didn't think to tell us?"

Azriel's jaw clenched automatically at the words.

He had thought to tell them. Numerous times.

He had just never wanted to.

First he had wanted to let things settle and solidify before announcing it to his family and letting them come swarming in to analyse their relationship…Later…later he just hadn’t wanted to.

They were completely happy when nobody knew. Why change it?

Azriel knew that he probably should have anticipated this reaction. Probably should have expected his brothers to be confused and annoyed, probably should have anticipated them wanting to know more. But he just hadn't wanted to deal with the questions and inquiries and curiosity and judgement.

So he had kept his relationship with Irena a secret.

“It was none of your business,” he said simply.

Cassian stared at him, dark eyes pained. “We are your brothers,” he said quietly.

“Quite frankly, I just didn’t want to deal with whatever opinion you cook up about us,” Azriel said flatly. His brothers were way too nosy and curious for their own good. Always had been. “We are happy. I didn’t want you to ruin that.”

They would have never respected his privacy or any boundary he had tried to set up.

He knew that Cassianwas probably annoyed that he hadn’t told him about his relationship with Irena. Knew that he was probably feeling left out and...excluded. That he was hurt that Azriel had kept this from him. But he just couldn’t find it within himself to feel any sympathy at the moment. Not when his patience was already wearing thin. Not when he could still feel the fear of almost losing Irena thrumming under his skin.

He couldn’t deal with this right now. Couldn’t handle whatever pity or lecturing his brother would give him. Just wanted to hold his mate and try to keep the fear of losing her at bay.

That fear was already too much, already consuming him and threatening to swallow him whole. The only thing that kept him sane, the only thing that kept him from falling apart was the knowledge that his mate, his Irena, was safe in his arms. And he needed to focus on that if he wanted to keep it together.

“Azriel.” Rhys’ choice was choked.

Azriel stiffened at the sound, his attention flicking to his brother automatically. There was something in Rhys’ voice, some emotion in his eyes that Azriel couldn’t quite discern right now.

He had heard his brother choked or emotional or desperate before, but this was something else. This was emotion in his brother that he had never seen before: raw, unfiltered, and painful.

The tone of Rhys’ voice, the almost anguished look in his eyes had Azriel holding his breath for a moment. Had his heartbeat picking up speed as he waited for his brother to speak.

The tension was heavy and thick as he waited, his muscles coiled tight as he waited for Rhys to speak. His whole body tense like a tightly wound spring.

“I am sorry,” Rhys whispered quietly.

Azriel stiffened slightly at that, his eyes widening almost imperceptibly. His muscles were still tense, still ready for a fight, but the raw apology in Rhys' words, the emotion in his voice...it surprised him.

It was unexpected. He had expected the anger and the hurt and the bitterness, not the raw emotion in his brother’s voice. Not the apology.

He almost couldn’t believe his ears, almost wanted to ask his brother to repeat himself. But he just stayed quiet instead, just tensed and listened and waited for his brother to continue speaking.

He couldn't even blink as he waited, as he hung on every slight movement or small change in expression on his brothers face. The tension was so thick, so heavy he could almost taste it. But he still didn't move an inch. Just waited, every muscle still as a statue as he watched his brother with an almost desperate intensity.

“I am sorry. I didn’t…I didn’t want to hurt you,” Rhys said quietly. “I…we would have been happy for you,” Rhys promised him fiercely.

Azriel felt his throat go dry at the words. The apology, the admission of his brother's intent to protect him, it was so unexpected that he almost couldn’t comprehend it. He felt some of the tension drain from his body, some of the tightness in his muscles loosening slightly.

Azriel's eyes widened almost imperceptibly, his heart pounding so hard in his chest that he almost couldn't hear anything else over the sound. The raw emotion in his brother's voice, the sincerity in those simple words...it was overwhelming.

“You were hurt,” Rhys said softly. “I understand. But you could have come to us any time over the last two years and told us and we would have been a happy for you,” he promised him fiercely.

"Would you have really?" Azriel asked softly. "Would you really have been happy for us and not made a problem out of nothing?"

He wanted to believe his brother, truly he did. But there was still a small part of him, the small part that had been hurt and mistreated and rejected so many times before, that was waiting for the other shoe to drop. The part of him that was looking for a catch, looking for the sign that this was just another manipulation.

He didn't want to feel this way, didn't want to look for the betrayal and rejection that had been written into his very soul. But he couldn't help it. Couldn't help the small part of him that was constantly looking for the next blow, bracing for rejection and hurt.

“We would have,” Cassian said fiercely. “You found your mate, Az.”

Azriel nodded slowly.

“How did you even hide it?” Cassian demanded, crossing his arms.

“I do know how to use a sound shield,” Azriel gave back flatly.

Cassian let out a low chuckle at that, shaking his head as he grinned. "Well, you've always been more adept at keeping secrets than I am," he teased, a sly grin pulling at his lips. “ Since when do you sleep surrounded by furs by the way?” Cassian muttered.

“Irena gets cold,” he said simply.

“Wait, she spend the nights here with you?” Cassian suddenly realised.

"None of your business," Azriel replied flatly, not even trying to hide his annoyance with the nosy question. "Just focus on keeping your own mate happy, brother."

“How do you even sneak her up here?!”

"None of your business," Azriel repeated flatly. "My relationship with my mate is my own business, not yours."

He knew that he was being stubborn, that he was probably being unreasonable right now. But he couldn't help it. His emotions were too raw, too overwhelming for him to handle the intrusion into his personal life. He just wanted to focus on Irena and making sure she was okay, not on his brother's questions and prodding into the details of his relationship.

It was none of their business how he and Irena spent their time together, how they snuck around the house without being caught. That was something private, something sacred between them. And he wasn't going to share it with anyone, not even his own brothers.

He just wanted to protect that intimacy between him and his mate, wanted to keep it safely guarded from prying eyes that might not understand. He knew that his brothers cared about him, but he also knew that they could be too nosy for their own good sometimes.

“…is she aware what these furs mean?” Cassian asked him pointedly.

Was she aware that Azriel was laying claim to her with every single one of those furs that he hunted for her? Aware that he was following Illyrian tradition, regardless of how much…of how fucked up it was in many senses?

“Yes,” he said simply. Kinda. A little bit.

"So it's...serious?" Cassian asked him.

"She's my mate," he snapped back.

Cassian held up his hands in a pacifying gesture, a sheepish expression on his face.

Azriel let out a low groan, rubbing a hand over his face. "Just…leave it alone," he said tiredly. "Please. I'm not in the mood for any more questions right now."

He just wanted to be alone with Irena, wanted to hold her close and let the warmth of her body soothe his frayed nerves. He didn't want to deal with his brothers and their incessant questioning. Didn't want to talk about his relationship with Irena or how serious it was. He just wanted to be with her and that was it.

. His emotions were just too raw, too close to the surface for him to hold back. He just wanted a moment of peace, of quiet, with his mate.

He just wanted to hold her close and breathe in the scent of her skin, wanted to feel her warmth against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her protectively. He just wanted to know that she was safe, that she was still here with him. Was that really too much to ask?

He let out a long breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions swirling within him. He didn't want to be angry, didn't want to be frustrated. But he couldn't help it, couldn't help the surge of protective instincts that came over him every time he thought about how close he had come to losing his mate.

"If you need anything, let us know," Rhys said quietly.

Azriel stiffened at the words, his hands curling into fists at his sides automatically. He knew that Rhys was only trying to be supportive, that he was only trying to offer his help. But Azriel didn't want that. Didn't want his brother's help or sympathy. He just wanted to be left alone with his mate.

He wanted to protect her himself, to take care of her and keep her safe without his brothers' interference. He knew that Rhys only meant well, but that knowledge did nothing to calm his instincts. All he could think about was how close he had come to losing his mate, how close he had come to never seeing her again. And the thought terrified him.

It made his heart clench and his gut twist in fear and pain, his hands clenching tight as he struggled to keep his emotions under control. He didn't want to be vulnerable, didn't want to let his brothers see how much this had affected him. But he knew that it was pointless to try and hide it, that his brothers could probably see the rawness of his emotions written all over his face.

Azriel didn't try to argue with his brother, didn't try to explain himself. He just nodded.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #azriel fanfic #azriel fanfiction #Holy Ground

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luvismenu · 18 days ago

Text

Only When It's Us — JJK ,, index ,, about taglist

Chapter 02 — distraction ✎

fic summary: you both say it’s nothing serious, but with every touch and argument, it gets harder to stay away.

nsfw warnings: smut; lots of kissing, lots of touching lol, oral (male recieving, fem too? kinda), sucking fingers, doggy style, unprotected sex (shes using birth control so yep, be safe!) use of ‘good girl’

wc: 6k

📜 permanent taglist: @lovieku @kyuupii @fluttershypoo @deluluisdasolulu @ddanasjk @mar-lo-pap @jungkooks-wife @diamondjeon @nnybtitts08 @lil0u0 @butnotmontana @fr0ggieth1nk @minimoninini @whoa-jo @lola75111 @iswearimover5feetall @rispwr @leemonis-blog

📜 series taglist: @deepikhaprakash @rjooniesdimples @sweetmimosa28

abt series taglist: send me an ask w the series title !!

“i have to go.”

“why don’t you just come back home? you can start over, and this time, maybe you’ll be more like your brother.”

you sigh.

“mom, i don’t want to be him,” you say quietly, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice. on the other end, you hear her let out a soft, disapproving tsk, a sound that always manages to make you feel a little smaller.

“aren’t you clearly struggling with school? if you were here with us, with your brother, we’d help you. you’d be fine,” she insists, as if coming home would magically fix everything.

you roll your eyes.

“i really have to go.”

“___, just listen to—”

but before she can finish, you end the call, staring at the blank screen for a moment.

there’s an unsettling feeling in your chest, one that refuses to fade, no matter how much you try to brush it off. its like a quiet reminder of all the things you’re trying to avoid.

go back home?

after everything you’ve been through to study what you want, to finally live on your own terms. every argument, every latenight fight with your parents, all just to claim a bit of freedom.

you worked so hard to break free from their expectations, to stand on your own.

you even transferred universities just to escape the constant pressure back in your hometown. no matter what you did, it was never enough. every choice was somehow wrong, not ‘their way.’

you can’t go back now.

not until you’ve made it, not until you have something real to prove them wrong. you have to be successful, if only to show them that your way was the right way all along.

“hey, are you done thinking? never seen anyone contemplate cheerios this hard.”

min yoongi’s low voice pulls you out of your thoughts. you look up, finding him behind the cash register, his lips curving into a small smile.

“just wondering if i can actually trust your store’s products. what if you are some sort of cheerio secret agent and you're trying to poison me?” you joke, handing him the money.

“oh no, you figured it out. we’ve been poisoning the cheerios. now how am i gonna explain to my boss that our mission failed?” he dramatically placesb a hand on his forehead as if you revealed his deepest darkest secret. you can’t help but chuckle, the tension in your chest loosening just a bit.

“bad day?” he asks, his gaze softening a bit as he opens the cash register.

min yoongi; your friend.

well, he's more like your senior. he graduated last year and he is working parttime at this convenience store cuz he thinks in this way he could spend some time outside.

you didn't question him about it any further.

you don’t usually come here unless it’s an emergency, and breakfast for tomorrow qualifies as pretty urgent, or so you tell yourself.

“something like that,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

he nods slightly. “well,” he begins, “i’m sorry i can’t give you a discount,” he adds, trying to lighten the mood.

you chuckle, the corners of your mouth lifting. “aw, that’s too bad. i thought i might get these cheerios for free.”

he smiles softly, “maybe some other time,"

you smile back at yoongi and turn to leave. but then you almost bump your head against a man’s chest, stumbling back in surprise.

that was close.

you look up to apologize, but your words get caught in your throat as you take in his appearance.

he’s handsome.

no, that doesn’t even begin to cover it. his face is sculpted to perfection, with sharp cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass. his dark eyes seem to pierce right through you, and his long, dark hair falls effortlessly over his forehead.

but there’s something else,

he looks... mad?

you quickly gather yourself, your cheeks warming slightly. “sorry,” you blurt out, stepping aside to let him pass.

as you walk out of the store, you catch a snippet of conversation behind you.

“are you still upset about her, jungkook?” yoongi’s voice carries just enough for you to hear.

you try to shake it off, not wanting to dwell on whatever is unfolding behind you. it’s not your business, after all.

you step outside, the cool air hitting your face as you leave the store, and try to focus on the tasks ahead of you.

“it doesn’t make any sense, hyung,” jungkook scoffs, the frustration bubbling up inside him.

“when did she ever make sense?” yoongi replies dryly, not backing down as he meets jungkook’s glare. the tension in the air feels thick, but yoongi isn’t afraid to speak his mind.

“from my point of view, you’re now a free man. free from all the bullshit you’ve been through,” yoongi explains, hoping to lift jungkook’s spirits.

“what bullshit? i was happy. we were happy,” jungkook frowns, his confusion evident. he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, struggling to comprehend yoongi’s words.

“that’s what she wanted you to think,” yoongi replies, his tone serious. “and to be honest, that’s what you always did. you did whatever she wanted. you changed for her.”

“i loved her,” jungkook insists, his voice a bit softer but still filled with conviction, as if saying it out loud would make it true.

“did you? really?” yoongi presses, searching jungkook’s eyes for any hint of doubt. he knows this is a tough conversation, but it needs to be talked out.

jungkook looks away and mutters. “you don’t get it,”

yoongi’s expression softens. he presses his lips together as he looks at jungkook, feeling bad for him. “i’m sorry, jungkook. but you really have to let it go now. it’s been two weeks. it’s time to start moving on.”

jungkook stays silent.

instead of responding, he reaches for a lollipop displayed near the cash register, the bright colors contrasting sharply with his gloomy mood. he hands yoongi some money, more than what the lollipop costs, as if he’s paying for more than just candy.

“do you want the change, or can i keep it as a tip for my great service slash friendship?” yoongi tries to lighten the mood, hoping to bring a smile to jungkook’s face.

and it does.

jungkook’s lips curl into a faint smile, a small but genuine response. “keep it,” he says softly.

as jungkook turns to leave, yoongi watches him go, feeling sad for his friend.

“bad day indeed.”

you're sat on a bench in the park near the convenience store, lost in your own thoughts. the quiet sounds of the evening settle around you, the faint rustle of leaves, the distant hum of traffic, and your own sighs mingling with the cool air.

you’re not really thinking about anything in particular, just letting your mind wander in that aimless way it does when everything feels overwhelming.

then, a loud voice cuts through your thoughts.

“no, i know you're hiding something from me!” someone snaps, his voice taut with irritation. “fine! have it your way then.”

curious, you glance over and recognize him immediately; the same man from earlier at the store, the one you’d nearly bumped into.

he’s pacing as he talks on his phone, one hand running through his dark hair in exasperation. his jaw is clenched, his brows furrowed, and you can practically feel the tension radiating off him even from a distance.

after a moment, he ends the call with an aggravated sigh, stuffing his phone into his pocket as he makes his way into the park, still visibly upset. he barely notices his surroundings as he walks closer to where you’re sitting.

he sighs, tilting his head back and closing his eyes, muttering something under his breath as if willing the frustration to melt away. you can’t help but stare a little, like an idiot.

then his eyes snap open and land directly on you.

“got a problem with me?” his voice is sharp, cutting through the silence between you.

you blink, startled, and stand up instinctively. “excuse me?”

he turns fully to face you, his eyes never leaving yours. “i asked, you got a problem with me?”

“no.” you shake your head, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“good.”

wow. nice attitude.

just as you’re about to walk away, he calls out again.

“never seen you around here before.”

“pardon?” you turn back, surprised.

“you’re yoongi's friend, right?” he asks,

you cross your arms, giving him a wary look. “why do you care?”

he shrugs, almost nonchalant. “my bad, just curious. never seen yoongi smile at a normal customer before, so i assumed.”

“oh,” you reply, softening just a bit. “well, i guess you could say we're friends.”

he raises an eyebrow, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “you guess?”

you offer a small shrug of your own. “he used to help me when i was still a freshman, and he still tries to whenever he can. i'd say he's like my teacher, in a way. it’s not like we hang out or anything, though.”

he tilts his head, considering your words. “well, consider yourselves friends. trust me, he doesn’t just help anyone.”

you narrow your eyes slightly, still wary. “and who are you, exactly?”

“jeon jungkook,” he says, extending a hand with a surprisingly polite nod. instinctively, you reach out and shake it, his grip firm. “since you're yoongi's friend, i think we go to the same university. though this is the first time i’m seeing you.”

“same, i am ___,” you pull your hand back.

“what are you doing here, in the middle of the night? didn’t your parents ever tell you not to go out alone?” he asks, the way he talks is somewhere between teasing and serious. you can't quiet get what it is but something about it grates on your nerves, like he's playing at being concerned but in a way that feels almost mocking.

“i could ask you the same thing,” you shoot back, meeting his gaze head on.

he doesn’t flinch, only tilts his head slightly. “i always come here,” he says, his voice calm, almost like a matterof fact.

“same,” you respond. “during the day.”

he quirks a brow, “so why are you in my night shift?”

you scoff, a laugh slipping out before you can stop it. “this isn’t your place or ‘shift,’ you know."

“well, you come here during the day; i come here at night. sounds like shifts to me,” he says with a shrug, and you catch the playfulness on his face.

“guess i’m overtiming, then,” you say, glancing away to hide your own smirk. “don’t mind me.”

he stays silent.

“you’ve got your own shit to deal with, huh?” he says, his voice breaking the quiet.

“why are you talking to me?” you blurt out, catching him a little off guard. “i mean, you don’t even know me.”

he raises an eyebrow, unphased. “i could ask you the same thing,” he replies, mimicking your answer from before.

you narrow your eyes, folding your arms. “i don’t think i want to talk about my problems with a random stranger.”

“problems…” he echoes, looking you up and down like he’s trying to figure you out. “let me guess. got into a fight with your boyfriend?”

“no,” you say quickly, rolling your eyes. “i don’t have one.” for a second, you think you catch a flicker of surprise on his face. “what about you? girlfriend mad at you?”

his face shifts, something almost vulnerable passing over his features before he looks away. “guess you could say that,” he mutters. “since she broke things off with me.”

a silence stretches between you two.

“i’m… sorry to hear that,” you finally say, feeling the awkwardness settle around you.

you didn't expect that.

honestly, the idea of someone like him getting dumped hadn’t even crossed your mind. a guy who looks like that—that intense aura—doesn’t exactly seem like the type to get left behind.

you assumed he’d be the one calling the shots, the one walking away. but here he is, single and clearly dealing with the aftermath of something that’s weighing on him. its surprising.

a thought crosses yourmind.

if someone could leave him, someone who had a place in his life and a claim to his heart, maybe he’s not as perfect as he seems on the outside. maybe there’s something beneath the surface, something that’s harder to deal with than his looks would suggest.

it’s like a puzzle you didn’t even mean to start solving, yet here you are, wondering if there’s more to him than just that handsome face.

but then you shake the thought away. he’s a stranger. a random guy you happened to bump into, quite literally, at a park in the middle of the night. it’s not like you’ll see him again after tonight. or, at least, that’s what you’re telling yourself.

because, really, why should you care?

whatever his story is, it’s none of your business.

“anyway, hope you figure your problems out.” he says, his gaze flickering away as if he’s eager to dodge any deeper conversation.

“likewise,” you reply.

without warning, he pulls a lollipop from his pocket, holding it out to you. “here,” he says, waiting for you to take it.

you reach out slowly, raising an eyebrow. “thanks?”

he smirks, “again, did your parents never tell you not to take candy from strangers?”

“maybe i like to be a little rebellious,” you say, smirking back at him and he shakes his head smiling.

“well, go ahead, eat it. i don’t want you tossing it away. i spent a lot on that sucker,” he says, a playful grin spreading across his face. despite the oddness of the moment, a corner of your mouth quirks up.

you unwrap the lollipop, examining it with a critical eye before giving him a look that says it all.

he catches it, tilting his head in curiosity. “what?”

“i don’t think i like raspberry flavor,” you admit, holding the lollipop up like a trophy of sorts.

he squints at you, “you’ve never tasted one before?”

you shrug, trying to sound nonchalant. “i don’t like raspberries, so i’m guessing this is more of the same.”

he shakes his head, lips twitching into a smirk. “that’s pretty bold, making assumptions without even trying it.”

“just give it a taste; maybe you'll like it,” he suggests, a teasing smile forming on his lips, clearly wanting you to try it. deep down, he doesn't even like raspberry flavor; he just picked it out randomly at the store.

“uh, no thanks. i don’t want that nasty taste on my tongue,” you reply, scrunching your nose a little . “but thanks, you could have—”

your words are abruptly cut off as he grabs your hand, the lollipop still held tightly between your fingers. in one swift motion, he leans in, wrapping his mouth around it. his tongue swirls around the candy, and then he pulls it out, his lips glistening with a reddish-pink hue that matches the flavor.

you're completely taken aback, eyes widening in shock.

oh what the fuck.

“yeah, you’re right. it does taste nasty,” he says, licking his lips as he releases your hand. “give it to me, i'll just throw it away or something”

suddenly, the lollipop feels trivial compared to what he just did. you stand there, completely speechless, your mind and heart racing as you try to process what jus happened.

“what?” he stares at you.

“you’re good with your tongue,” you say, the words slipping out before you can really think them through.

he pauses, his eyes widening for a second, and he chokes on nothing, almost like he’s been caught off guard mid-breath. “uh, what?” he finally manages, blinking rapidly.

realizing how that might’ve sounded, “i just meant... the lollipop. you seemed pretty skilled with it,” you clarify, though you’re aware it’s not really helping.

what are you even trying to say?

he looks at you, a smirk playing on his lips now. “uh-huh, sure,” he says, teasing you. “that’s what you meant.”

you roll your eyes, trying to play it cool. “don’t flatter yourself, i was just making an observation.”

but the way he’s looking at you now, dark eyes glittering with amusement and something else you can’t quite place, makes it hard to pretend that slip of the tongue didn’t mean more than you intended.

“so, do you want to suck on it?”

“huh?” you blink.

suck on what now?

“the lollipop” he clarifies, a small smile playing on his lips.

oh.

you clear your throat, fighting to keep a neutral expression. “no, definitely not, especially now that you had your tongue all over it.” you try to scrunch your nose, but any attempt at showing disgust falls flat with the heat rising in your cheeks.

“alright then, just asking if you changed your mind,” he shrugs, still holding your gaze.

“i still don’t want it,” you say quickly, trying to sound convincing.

“okay.” he blinks, unfazed.

“okay,” you repeat, awkwardly.

he gestures to the lollipop still in your hand. “uh, so… are you gonna keep holding it?”

you glance down, pulling your hand back. “i’m gonna throw it away,” you declare, though it feels a bit ridiculous now, given everything that just happened.

“i hope so,” he says, one side of his lips quirking up.

why do you kind of like his smile?

you try to shake your thought off, tossing the lollipop into a nearby trash can, trying to act as casual as possible.

“well, guess that's the end of that,” you say, hoping to sound nonchalant. he nods as he crosses his arms.

you raise an eyebrow, mimicking his stance. “do you usually hand out half-eaten lollipops to strangers?”

he laughs, low and soft, the sound surprisingly warm in the quiet night. “only when they look like they need a little distraction.”

you tilt your head. “oh? and what made you think i needed one?”

his eyes meet yours, his expression softening. “just a hunch,” he says, his voice dropping to a murmur. “we all got stuff we’d rather not think about, right?”

a pause.

there’s something unspoken between you two, a quiet understanding in the way you hold each other’s gaze.

he's right.

you are stressing about things you'd rather not think about, things that seem to cling to your mind no matter how hard you try to push them away.

and then there's him, a stranger but somehow not, going through his own mess. you can see it in his tired eyes, the way he keeps looking off into the distance as if trying to shake off whatever weight he's carrying.

you realize you don’t mind it; you don’t mind his company, or even the strange comfort of this shared silence.

both of you are here, each trying to forget whatever it is that’s eating at you. maybe that’s why this moment feels so easy.

”yeah,” you finally say, “guess we do.”

“i gotta go now,” you announce, hoping to put an end to whatever weird tension is building between the two of you.

he doesn't say anything. no goodbyes, no attempts to stop you. so you turn and start walking away, trying to shake off whatever just happened.

but before you can take more than a few steps, his hand shoots out, wrapping around your wrist. you stop, surprised, and turn back to face him. his grip isn’t tight, but it’s firm enough to make you pause.

you meet his gaze, and there's something in his eyes—something intense, something that makes your stomach flip.

“would you like a distraction?” he asks, voice low, almost like a whisper meant just for you.

you blink, not sure if you heard him right. “what?” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

instead of answering, he tugs you gently closer. your body stumbles forward, and your hands land on his chest to steady yourself. his heartbeat is strong under your palm, and suddenly, everything feels too close, too intense.

he looks down at you, his eyes flickering over your face like he’s searching for something. “i think i do,” he mutters. “don’t you?”

your mind is racing, trying to make sense of this.

is he asking what you think he’s asking?

he’s a stranger. someone you barely know beyond a couple of conversations and an awkward encounter in a convenience store.

yet there’s something about the way he’s looking at you, something that makes it hard to think straight.

“yes,” you hear yourself say before you can even process it.

his lips curve into a satisfied smile, and without another word, he leans in and kisses you.

the world seems to stop as his mouth meets yours. it’s not hesitant or soft; it’s urgent, as if he’s been wanting this for longer than the short time you’ve known him. his hands slide up to your face, cupping your cheeks as he deepens the kiss.

your fingers clutch his shirt, feeling the heat of his body against yours. it’s messy and impulsive, and he doesn't even care that you’re both in the middle of a park, under the dim glow of the streetlights.

right now, all you can think about is him. the way he tastes, the way he kisses you desperately.

maybe you do need this distraction.

his hands grip your waist, pulling you closer, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, letting the kiss deepen. his lips are soft, and you moan as if you're melting into the kiss. there's something about the way his mouth moves against yours; like he's been waiting to do this.

“wait—” you pant as pull back, your heart pounding against your ribs, trying to gather your thoughts. he looks into your eyes, his brows furrowing slightly as he asks in a low voice, “what happened?”

“we're... we're outside,” you point out, glancing around.

he tilts his head, his brows raising slightly as if that’s the least of his concerns. “so?” his voice is low and almost teasing, like he finds your hesitation cute.

you let out a scoffing laugh, “what do you mean so?wee’re literally in a children’s park.” you gesture to the swings and slides nearby, deserted at this hour but still... it’s a public space.

he pauses for a second, “my car’s parked just over there,” he nods towards a sleek vehicle at the edge of the park, his lips curling into a smile. “we could, uh... relocate or—”

before you can even process that, your curiosity gets the better of you. “wait— you have a car?” you cut in, a little surprised.

he chuckles. “yeah, and it’s a pretty one at that.” there’s a glint in his eyes that says he’s enjoying this back-and-forth with you, like it’s some sort of game.

you sigh, still trying to wrap your head around the craziness of this entire situation. “okay,” you murmur, almost to yourself, deciding to just go with it. what’s the worst that could happen?

he releases his grip on you, but only so he can grab your hand and guide you towards the car. the walk feels a little awkward now, a heavy tension hanging in the air. you're not sure what to say.

what’s the protocol for walking towards a car with a guy you’re about to hook up with?

as if sensing your nerves, he gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “come on, my car’s comfy. don’t worry,” he says with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. the way he’s holding your hand... it’s surprisingly tender, making it feel just a little less awkward.

when you reach the car, he opens the back seat door for you. you hesitate for a second, “you won’t, like, kidnap me or something, right?” you half-joke.

he lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “for someone who’s so aware of the things you shouldn’t be doing, you sure do them anyway,” he teases. his words send a shiver down your spine, both a warning and an invitation.

but you ignore that nagging voice in the back of your mind. instead, you climb into the seat and he follows you right away.

“why are you—” your words are cut off as he crashes his lips against yours, the urgency in his kiss making you lose your breath. one of his hands grips your waist, pulling you against him, while the other tangles in your hair, tugging gently to tilt your head for better access.

the way his lips move against yours, hot and hungry, sends sparks shooting down your spine, and before you know it, you're moaning into his mouth, matching his intensity. your hands scramble to find something to hold onto, eventually locking behind his neck as if he's your lifeline.

“are we seriously gonna fuck in your car?” you gasp, your words shaky when he pulls away just enough to start trailing hot kisses down the side of your neck. your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, drawing him closer.

“no,” he breathes and sucks on a sensitive spot just beneath your ear, his teeth grazing the skin before he soothes it with a slow lick. “just couldn’t stop myself,” he admits, voice low and breathy, and then his mouth is back on yours, devouring you with a hunger that makes your head spin.

your hands move restlessly over his broad shoulders, wanting to feel more, wishing his clothes were gone so you could touch him everywhere.

his hands roam your body like he's memorizing it, fingers pressing into the curves of your waist, teasingly brushing against your chest. each touch has you arching into him, wishing he'd just tear your clothes apart already.

it's all too good.

too overwhelming, and before you know it, five minutes have passed with the two of you tangled in each other. when he finally pulls back, panting, his lips are swollen and glistening. your chest rises and falls rapidly as you try to catch your breath, both of you staring at each other in the dim light of the car.

he’s leaning back slightly, his hard on pressing against your thigh. it’s impossible not to notice how turned on he is, and it only makes your own arousal spike.

you're so fucking wet right now.

you’re laid back on the seat, eyes locked on him, watching the way he runs a hand through his disheveled hair, pushing it back revealing his forehead.

“hotel? or my place?” he asks, trying to catch his breath “hotel’s just a minute away, but my place… well, it’s a bit further.”

you can practically see the options laid out in your mind like a checklist.

a) go to the hotel, have your fun, and slip away without looking back. no strings, no regrets. just a quick fuck and disappear like it never happened.

b) go to his place, let him fuck the shit out of you, see if he’s worth all this heat between your thighs. maybe wake up in his bed with his arms still wrapped around you... and if he's good enough, maybe get his number so it doesn’t have to be a one time thing.

you bite your lip, your decision already made before you even realize it.

“yours.”

the drive to his apartment is quick, the tension between you both barely held back. you're glad it’s late at night, because the two of you can’t seem to keep your hands off each other and you don't want anyone witnessing it.

the second you step into his apartment, the door slams shut behind you, and it's a scramble to rid each other of clothing. shirts are yanked off, belts undone, pants shoved down until you're both stumbling towards his bedroom in a mess of heated kisses and needy touches.

“o-oh fuck—yes baby, suck it just like that,” jungkook throws his head back, moaning, his breath ragged. he’s sprawled on the bed, legs spread wide, hands gripping the sheets. you're on your knees between his thighs, sucking him hard, your lips stretching around his thick length.

you glance up at him, eyes half lidded, watching the way his abs flex as he tries to keep himself steady. “shit... you look so fucking hot,” he rasps out, voice rough. his gaze darkens, and he pushes himself up, one hand threading through your hair.

“can you take it, baby?” he asks, his voice low, a hint of a challenge in his tone.

you know exactly what he’s asking. you nod, barely managing it with your mouth full, and he smiles, almost wickedly, his eyes gleaming.

“good,” he murmurs, his grip tightening just enough on your hair. “tap me if it’s too much.” and with that, he starts moving his hips, fucking into your mouth with slow, deep thrusts.

you gag slightly as he pushes deeper, but you relax your throat, trying to take him in. the room is filled with the wet, obscene sounds of him moving in and out, his groans echoing off the walls.

“fuck—you’re taking me so well, baby,” he praises, his voice thick and raspy, sending a wave of heat straight to your core. each time his cock hits the back of your throat, it forces a choked gasp from him, his hands instinctively tightening in your hair.

your eyes water, tears pooling at your lashes, but you don’t stop, even as your throat aches. your nails dig into his firm thighs, using them for balance as he fucks your throat. you want to show him just how much you can handle.

“i’m gonna—” he grunts, voice rough and strained. a hot burst of his release fills your mouth, and you swallow it all, not breaking eye contact with him for a second. his chest heaves as he watches you, mesmerized, as your tongue slides slowly along his length, cleaning up every drop. his jaw clenches, the sight clearly driving him wild.

“get up,” he orders, voice still a little breathless, and you obey instantly, letting him pull you to your feet. “on the bed, all fours.”

you get onto the mattress, positioning yourself as he asked. there's a moment of stillness as you feel his gaze roam over your exposed body. your heart races, anticipation building as you wait for his next move.

“you’re dripping,” he murmurs, leaning in closer until his breath is hot against your soaked core. he licks a slow, deliberate stripe along your folds, and your eyes flutter shut, a soft, breathy moan escaping your lips. his mouth envelops your pussy, sucking and licking with an rhythm that makes your thighs tremble.

he pulls back just enough to catch his breath before moving up, positioning himself between your legs. his right hand trails upward, skimming over your skin until his fingers brush against your lips.

instinctively, you part them, taking his fingers into your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue around them. the low chuckle that escapes him tells you just how much he enjoys it.

“you like that, hm?” he asks. you moan softly around his fingers, your response muffled but desperate.

he withdraws his fingers, his lips curving into a satisfied smirk. leaning down, he wraps an arm around your waist, lifting you slightly until your back is against his chest. you can feel his length pressing against your ass, you move your hips a little causing a little friction.

his hands slide over your breasts, kneading them with just enough pressure to send shivers down your spine.

you melt into his touch, your head lolling back against his shoulder as his fingers pinch and roll your hardened nipples, sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

“want me to fuck you, baby?” his voice is soft against your shoulder as he places feather light kisses along your skin. he nips gently, his hands never stopping their teasing, and you can’t help the whimper that escapes when his fingers pinch just a bit harder.

“y-yes,” you mewl, voice shaky with need, “fuck me, jungkook.”

he squeezes your breasts harder, a groan rumbling from his chest as he sinks his teeth lightly into the curve of your shoulder.

“yeah? can i fuck you raw?” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear.

“yes,” you gasp, your voice barely more than a whimper. “p-please.”

his grip on you loosens slightly, and he leans back to look at you, his eyes dark, like he's stopping himself. “you sure?” he asks, one last time, his tone gentle but urgent.

you nod quickly, breathless. “i’m on the pill,” you assure him, and the tension in his shoulders eases.

“fuck. okay, bend over.”

without hesitation, you resume your previous position, arching your back and presenting yourself to him. he groans softly at the sight, his hand sliding down to rub slow circles over your entrance.

he teases you, slipping a finger inside, making you moan softly as your walls flutter around him. he withdraws his finger, watching the way you clench around nothing, desperate for more.

grabbing his cock, he taps the swollen tip against your slick hole. you whine, impatience leaking into your voice, “just fuck me already.”

a smirk curves his lips, and without another word, he pushes into you.

you grip the sheets tightly as you take him in fully, your walls stretching to accommodate his thick length. a choked gasp escapes your lips, eyes squeezing shut at the delicious burn that quickly morphs into pleasure.

each inch fills you so completely, leaving you breathless, your body trembling at the feeling.

“fuck,” he groans behind you, his voice low and rough, a sound that makes your toes curl. “you’re so tight, baby... taking me so fucking good.” the words are almost a growl, filled with barely restrained control as he fights the urge to pound into you.

his hands move to your hips, gripping them hard enough to leave marks, steadying himself as he sinks even deeper.

your moans spill freely now, raw and needy, muffled slightly by the pillow you bury your face into. he starts to move, slowly at first, pulling out just enough before thrusting back in, his cock brushing against that sweet spot inside you.

the rhythm is torturously slow, each stroke making you whimper, your back arching even further in a silent plea for more.

“please... more,” you manage to gasp out, your voice shaky. “jungkook, i need it.. need you.”

“yeah?” he rasps, picking up the pace, thrusts becoming sharper, each one driving you into the mattress. “want it harder, baby? want me to ruin you?”

“yes.. yes mmph- more!” you cry, your voice breaking as he slams into you harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. your nails claw at the sheets, the friction of his hips against your ass making stars dance behind your eyelids.

his fingers snake around to your front, finding your swollen clit, and he rubs it in tight, quick circles. your entire body jolts, your hips bucking back against him as you let out a loud, broken moan.

“oh, fuck, that’s it, that's a good fucking girl,” he hisses, feeling you clench around him, your walls fluttering as you near the edge.

“you’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you?” he growls against your ear, bending over you now, his hot breath fanning against your neck. he bites down on your shoulder, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to drive you wild.

“you're gonna cum like the good girl you are?”

“yes n-ngh.. i’m close.. s-so close,” you whimper, your thighs trembling uncontrollably. his fingers press harder against your clit, his thrusts turning frantic.

“cum with me, baby” he demands, his voice thick and commanding. that’s all it takes. your body shatters. your vision going white as you scream his name. your walls squeeze him so tightly, milking his cock, and with a deep, guttural groan, he loses himself too, spilling inside you as his thrusts grow sloppy.

he stays buried inside you, his chest heaving against your back, both of you panting heavily. he leans down to press soft, lazy kisses along your shoulder.

after everything that just happened. you've made up your mind.

you're definitely going to ask for his number.

a/n: erm.. don't get into random strangers cars !! haha

#jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook smut #bts fanfiction #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fanfic #jjk x y/n #jungkook x y/n #fanfiction

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withwritersblock · 1 month ago

Text

Third Time's The Charm

~Third Time's The Charm by Megan Moroney~

Author's note: requested! I am in love with this song! thank you anon!! Summary: After getting her heart broken two times before a stranger in a bar steals her heart Word Count: 4,662 Warnings: maybe swears? Luke Hughes x fm!reader

She was done with relationships. She swore them off after her last ex. He wasn’t the first guy to break her heart. The first one felt the worst, but it was probably because she was so young, yet she’s still young.

The first guy cheated on her several times, he was maybe loyal to her for the first two weeks in the relationship and the remaining year, he probably slept with majority of the girls in their grade. Which no one decided to tell her was happening and it made everything worse.

She didn’t date until college, the embarrassment alone was too much to bare. She was over five hundred miles away from her hometown, to New York University. She’s always loved the idea of New York, the city life, it was her dream. It wasn’t easy being so far from her family in Michigan, but it was her dream and she had to follow it.

That’s where she met her most recent ex. He was quite awful. All of her friends were convinced he wasn’t cute. Which didn’t help that he wasn’t a good boyfriend for a single second.

After he forgot her birthday or lacked any ability to care that it was her birthday, she broke up with him. Then she spent most of her time just going to classes and returning to her room to be sad.

It took well over a year for her friends to convince her to leave her dorm room and explore the city and be young.

The only way she would go was if she promised to keep every guy she met at a distance or a one time thing. It worked for a year and it was safe to say she had a blast.

She was never planning on dating again at least for the rest of college.

She went into tonight with the same plan, a hook up. That’s all she wanted.

There she was, standing in the middle of the bar playing darts with her friends. It was safe to say, that she was winning by a long shot. It was either because she was closest to sober or because she was actually good. It was hard to tell.

The music was loud, the beat was vibrating her chest. The bar was crowded, full of guys of all ages. It was unusually full but she didn’t mind. It was more options.

She walked towards her table, reaching excitingly towards her drink. She brought it towards her lips. Her gaze lifted as she met his eye. He was standing awkwardly near the bartop. His lips curled upward slightly before he shifted his gaze towards the shorter guy beside him. Her heart began to quicken, smacking hard against her chest. She forced herself to turn around, look towards her friends drunkenly stumble around each other. Probably not the smartest idea to be throwing darts when they couldn’t even stand up straight, but they were trying their best.

The butterflies in her stomach was a first. It was the first in a long time but he was just some random guy. Random guy who was tall and had curly brown hair that was peaking beneath the baseball hat that was on backwards on his head. She found herself looking towards him, craving his gaze on hers.

She watched him pull the drink towards his lips, his gaze slowly making it’s way towards her. She took in a sharp breath as she forced her gaze back towards the dart board, she watched her friend Andrea throw the dart and get twenty points.

“Y/N, come on it’s your turn,” Andrea’s boyfriend Harrison said loudly. She nodded as she walked towards the dart board to grab the two darts. “Lets’s see it girl,” he let out teasingly. She rolled her eyes playfully as she lined up getting ready to take her shot. She held the dart up as she shifted her gaze over towards the boy she saw earlier. He was no longer standing where she saw him at first.

Holding her breath she tosses the dart at first only getting six points, the second one hit perfectly on a bullseye. She smirks to herself as she walks towards the board to retrieve the darts.

“Nice shot,” she heard from behind her. She spun around to see the guy with the backwards hat behind her. Her eyes widened as she met his gaze. His lips were curled upward slightly as he scanned her features.

“Thank you,” she muttered as she held her hand out with the darts towards Harrison. He gladly took them as he stepped away from the pair towards Andrea, a smirk to his lips. “Wanna join us? You and-” she paused as she saw four guys staring towards their direction, “Your friends?”

The guy switched his gaze towards the collection of friends, he shook his head towards them. “They’re not gonna join us,” he let out as he shifted his gaze towards her, he slowly began to smile wider. “I’m Luke by the way,” he mumbled as he scanned her features, focusing on the shine of her lips.

“I’m Y/N,” she offered as she tilted her head to the side, a teasing smirk on her lips. “Wanna join us?” she asked as she pointed behind her. He pressed his lips together as he shrugged his shoulders.

“Why not,” he muttered as he walked towards the table, seeing Harrison, Andrea, and Erik.

“Girl, you did not invite the tall drink of water to our table,” Erik said as he was eying Luke up and down, a grin to his lips. Erik and Y/N were known for having the same type in guys. Luke started laughing as he shook his head as he met Y/N’s gaze.

“Okay new game, no teams, whoever wins gets free drinks for the rest of the night, okay?” Harrison interrupted as he pointed his finger towards each person in the small gorup, even Luke.

The game started quickly, it was obvious that Harrison and Luke were quite good at the game while Y/N wasn’t too far behind.

Y/N hit the small red under the twenty to get sixty points to push her ahead of the group. She threw her hands into the air, “Get owned, bitches!” she let out excitedly as she happily took quick steps towards the dart boad.

~~~

The rest of her night was hazy. She was taking advantage of the free drinks and the tall curly haired guy giving her attention. It was safe to say she was content with where she was at.

She was expecting to wake up to him in bed beside her but to her surprise it was Andrea instead. She slowly rubbed her eyes, convinced makeup was smudging all over her eyelids. Slowly sitting up, she notices the boys asleep on the air mattress beside her bed. Without hesitation she slowly stepped over the boys and began stumbling towards the kitchen. Remnants of the pre-game was still evident all over her apartment as she walked towards the kitchen, specifically towards her new coffee maker.

She walked past a small piece of paper on the counter that wasn’t there before they left. Furrowing her eyebrows she took a hold of the paper and opened it.

Hey,

Made sure you and your friends made it back safely. You were the only one that was able to give me an address, so I had the Uber guy take us all here. Made sure everyone was safe before I left. Here’s my number, can’t remember if I gave it to you before.

Luke from the bar ;)

She rolled her eyes playfully as she delicately placed the note back on the counter as she beelined towards the coffee maker. Her phone was plugged in right beside it, not it’s normal spot but she’ll take the win.

After she started the pot, she wandered towards the note that Luke left. This time with her phone in hand and intention to give him a call. She saved the contact name with Luke from the bar and quickly gave him a call.

It only took three rings for him to answer, “Hello?” he let out.

“Hey Luke from the bar, thank you for making sure my friends and I didn’t end up in a dumpster,” she teased. He barked out a laugh on his end of the phone.

“Sounds like that’s something that happened before,”

“Erik and Harrison have had their moments, I, on the other hand, always make sure I end the night back in a bed,” she expressed as she watched the hot coffee form in the giant pot. She was convinced all of her friends were going to need it.

“I see, well-uh Y/N from the bar how about you let me take you to dinner tonight,” Luke said, suddenly feeling nervous.

She clenched her jaw as she felt her smile slowly slip from her lips. “I tend to keep the guys I meet at bars a one time thing, I don’t do the whole dating thing,” she explained.

Without missing a beat, “Okay, how about you buy me dinner for making sure your friends didn’t end up in a dumpster,”

“Luke,” she let out softly a chuckle climbing into her throat.

“It’s not a date because you’re gonna pick up the check because if it was a date I would pick up the check because I’m a gentleman,”

“Oh of course, right,” she shot back. She took in a deep breath, “Alright, fine.”

“Perfect, I’ll pick you up at seven?” he offered.

“Yeah, that’ll be perfect,” she mumbled as her stomach started doing flips.

“See you then, Y/N from the bar,” he expressed.

“Bye Luke from the bar,” she mumbled as she pulled the phone away from her ear.

It was a date. She knew that and everything in her wanted nothing more than to run away, ghost him and let him be a guy that she played darts with one time. But the way his voice said her name or the way he looked at her.

She couldn’t remember much after the darts game started but she could remember the way his eyes scanned her frame. It wasn’t just attraction, it was admiration. She can’t remember the last time a boyfriend looked at her that way, let alone a stranger.

How can someone look at someone else like that after only knowing them a few minutes?

“This isn’t my apartment,” she over heard Andrea say as she stumbled into the living room. Y/N chuckled while shaking her head. “What happened last night?”

“Tequila and darts,” she said simply as she began to pour two cups of coffee. Black coffee was always an instant cure for hangovers for them.

“Why is it always those two that get us fucked up,” she muttered as she gladly took a hold of the mug. She brought the hot drink towards her lips, not caring about the burning sensation on her lips. “What’s this?” she asked as she reached towards the scratch piece of paper on the counter.

“N-nothing!” Y/N tried to hide it but it was already in Andrea’s hands, her eyes scanning the words.

“Wait did you have sex with a guy while I was asle-”

“No! Oh my god, Andrea, no. Seriously, have some faith in me will you,” Y/N let out while laughing. “He just made sure we made it back safe,”

“I don’t remember you meeting anyone last night,” she let out, her eyes squinting slightly as she stared past the paper, trying to visualize the night in her mind.

“Tequila and darts will do that to you,” Y/N offered as she finally took a sip of the coffee she’s been craving since she opened her eyes. “I may be going out with him tonight,” she muttered softly before she took a sip.

Andrea’s eyes went wide as her whole body straightened, delicately placing the mug onto the counter. “You?” she questioned. Y/N nodded encouragingly. “The curse is broken!” she said as she raised her hands in the air theatrically.

“Oh shut up!” Y/N let out laughing, shoving Andrea’s arm. “It’s not really a date,” she muttered. Andrea tilted her head to the side, squinting her eyes slightly. “I’m technically buying him dinner for making sure my friends survived the night.”

“Totally not a date,” Andrea said sarcastically before she brought the mug back towards her lips.

~~~

She changed her dress three times. The first one was too tight, too sexy for something like this. The second one was too flowy, almost like she was going on a picnic. The third one was almost a combination of both, perfect for a not-date.

She also redid her wing eyeliner three times, still didn’t feel right. She took a deep breath as she heard the door bell ring three times. Her eyes widened, “Cannot believe I’m doing this,” she muttered.

She picked up her perfume bottle and quickly sprayed it all over her body. “Fuck this,” she stared towards her reflection for a moment before she walked out of the bathroom. She took a hold of her small clutch purse before she wandered towards the front door. Pulling it open to see Luke standing outside the door with a soft smile on his lips.

He was wearing a black polo with dark wash jeans, his hair was perfectly styled. “You look totally gorgeous for our not-date,” he muttered as he quickly scanned her frame. She walked away from the door towards the black heels sitting near the door. Luke took that opportunity to enter the apartment.

“You are look very cute for our not-date,” she found herself saying as she slowly slipped on the heels. Luke dropped his gaze towards the floor, his lips curled upward in a grin.

“I was a thinking that dinner place a few streets over would be a good spot,” he explained as he nervously clapped his hads together.

“Wait, why do you get to pick the dinner spot if I’m paying,” she offered as she brushed a few pieces of hair away from her face. He smirked before he ran his tongue across his bottom lip.

“You were never going to be paying, but you can pick the place if you insist,” he let out while tilting his head back.

Rolling her eyes playfully she began to walk towards the door, making eye contact with him for a moment, she shyly dropped her gaze towards the floor. Luke tilted his head back as he held his breath for moment. God, she was stunning.

“You know,” Luke started as he followed her outside, “You can still pay, depending on how our evening goes,”

“Oh really?” she let out teasingly as she locked the apartment behind her. She leaned her body against the door for a moment as she scanned his features.

“Oh yeah, I mean if our non-date ends poorly then absolutely you’ll be paying,” he muttered as he slowly started walking backwards towards the elevator further down the hall. She huffed teasingly as she followed towards him.

“Right well, let’s see how this goes then,” she expressed.

They continued their banter, slowly learning things about one another as they walked towards the restaurant that was only a couple blocks away from her apartment. She explained how she was in college to be an elementary school teacher, a career she’s wanted for majority of her life. He listened excitedly as he explained how he was from all over the world.

As they turned towards the restaurant, three girls excitedly walked towards them, one of them was holding a phone tightly to her chest. Luke forced a smile to his lips. “Oh my god, you’re Luke Hughes can we get a photo please?” she asked excitedly.

He nodded, “How are you guys tonight?” he asked as he glanced towards Y/N, who was watching the interaction suspiciously. She crossed her arms over her chest as she shifted her gaze towards the concrete below her.

Y/N awkwardly stepped towards the wall beside them, pulling herself from the situation. She clenched her jaw as she heard the girls rant excitedly towards Luke. He gladly took the photo with the girls and engaged in the conversation. He kept shifting his gaze towards Y/N, practically apologizing with each glance.

He was always open to taking photos with fans, but this was definitely an awkward moment. Especially since he didn’t tell her his career yet.

The girls scattered away from them. Luke shoved his hands into his pocket as he met Y/N’s gaze, he pressed his lips together as he tried not to laugh. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows as her lips curled up into a smile.

“You secretly a famous country singer or something?” she let out as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Oh hell no,” he tilted his head to the side as he began stepping back towards the direction of the restaurant. She followed him, suddenly her body felt cold as her heart began to race. “I-uh-I play for the Devils,” he let out shyly.

She squinted her eyes as she met his gaze. “Really?” she muttered.

“Yep,” he said simply, almost embarrassed.

“I feel like that’s something you should tell a girl before you take her out,” she said shifting her gaze towards the ground.

“The very limited amount of girls that I’ve told about my career they tend to only care about being a WAG or whatever it’s called, I didn’t want to ruin this-I guess,” he explained shyly.

She nodded as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“So does that stuff happen to you often?” she asked, her heart began to beat faster and faster. Its a lot of attention, a lot of unwanted attention. She hated attention.

“It happens a couple times a week,” he said.

“So you’ll be like traveling a lot,”

“Yeah, I actually have to leave for a game tomorrow,” he said as he met her gaze. She nodded.

“This is a lot to process for a girl who you’re not technically even taking on a date,”

“I usually get a oh my god that’s so hot,” he let out jokingly.

“Really?” she let out laughing.

“I’m mostly joking but it tends to be a plus, but doesn’t seem like it for you,” he let out as they walked up towards the restaurant door. Luke took the door and opened it for her. She smiled towards him as she stepped inside.

“I mean it is definitely oh my god that’s so hot but also it’s a lot,” she mumbled. He nodded as he took in a sharp breath.

The hostess greeted them excitedly as she gladly took them to a table near the back of the restaurant.

“So you think it’s hot?” he let out teasingly.

“Oh shut it,” she let out while giggling.

~three weeks later~

She would be lying if she said things with Luke weren’t going good. She wanted nothing more than to not like him. She wished the feelings she was getting for him weren’t real. He went on a roadie for the first week but he was constantly texting and flirting on the phone.

She even watched the games he played, Y/N can’t remember a time where she actually wanted to watch a hockey game. She kept getting herself confused since his brother was also playing. Andrea loved teasing her about it since it’s been a year since the last time she’s considered dating someone.

Yet, she wasn’t even sure if what they were doing was dating. Especially since they haven’t kissed yet or even attempted it. It was starting to get to her, what was he so afraid of?

Luke rang the doorbell multiple times and she excitedly jumped up from the couch. She jogged towards the door. She excitedly pulled the door open to see him holding a large iced coffee from Dunkin. Luke had a wide grin on his lips. Her eyes widened as she happily reached for it.

“Thank you!” she said as she happily brought the coffee towards her lips, she danced as she walked towards the kitchen. He chuckled as she shut the door behind him. “This is exactly what I needed,” she let out as she leaned against the counter as she met his gaze.

“Good,” he let out as he walked up towards her, keeping a small distance between them. “You said classes were kicking your ass so I thought you would want that,” he let out as he scanned her features.

“It’s very sweet,” she said as she delicately rested the coffee down on the counter. “You didn’t get anything?” she questioned, staring towards his empty hands. He shrugged, stepping towards her.

“Not a coffee guy,” he mumbled.

“That’s tragic,” she teased as she continued to meet his gaze. He hummed as he continued to look into her eyes. “Luke,” she let out softly as she scanned his features. He hummed again as his gaze lowered towards her lips for a second. “Do you want to watch a movie?” she asked. His eyes widened softly as he nodded, stepping back slightly.

“What are you thinking?” he asked as he stumbled back towards her bedroom. She smiled towards him as she took a hold of the iced coffee.

She began to list all of her favorite movies and he just listened to her ramble on. He finally agreed on the last one and she happily took the remote and started to turn on the movie. Luke was excitedly laying beside her as he rested his hands behind his head. She sat up excitedly as she turned on the TV.

“I cannot believe you haven’t seen Scary Movie it’s so good,” she offered as she pressed play on the movie. He smirked as she laid back beside him, neither of them touching one another.

“I don’t like horror movies, I thought it was scary,” he muttered as he shyly stared towards his hands.

Y/N rotated onto her side, her eyes widened as a smirk formed to her lips. “You’re telling me you thought a movie called Scary Movie was actually scary? Luke come on,” she teased. He tilted his head to meet her gaze, his cheeks flushing slightly. His gaze lowered towards her lips, instead of quickly flicking upwards towards her eyes, his gaze remained on her glossed lips.

“The movie is literally called Scary Movie!” he let out with a chuckle.

“You’re ridiculous,” she muttered as she watched his gaze slowly climb up to meet her gaze, he cleared his throat as he shifted his gaze toward the screen. She clenched her jaw as she slowly sat up and shifted her gaze towards the screen. Luke followed her movements. “So you’re going on the road again tomorrow,” she asked as she brushed a few pieces of hair away from her face. He hummed as he continued to watch her.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked softly. She chuckled softly as she shifted her gaze towards him, looking into his eyes deeply.

“Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” she let out without fully thinking it through. Luke sat up slightly, his face growing pinker and pinker by the second. “I mean I know it’s been only a couple of weeks but I just thought we would’ve done something by now,” she let out shyly. He smirked as he squinted his eyes slightly.

“I was nervous since you’ve got history of-yeah sorry. I just didn’t want to pressure you or push or yeah,”

She smiled a toothy grin, “Don’t ever apologize for that,” she mumbled as she met his gaze.

“Well then come ‘ere,” he muttered as he excitedly reached for her thigh, pulling her onto his lap. She giggled as she rested her hands onto the base of his neck. His hands were resting on her thighs as she ran her thumbs across his jawline.

He leaned towards her, kissing her urgently. It felt like a weight being lifted off of their shoulders. It felt like a magnet was pulling them towards one another. His hands were slowly gliding up and down her thighs as her fingers ran through his hair. Her fingers slowly tugged at the curls.

She leaned her forehead against his as she caught her breath, “Oh,” she muttered as she slowly opened her eyes. He tilted his head back to meet her gaze, his lips already starting to swell.

“Oh?” he let out, slightly nervous.

“Sorry-just been a long time since kissing felt like this,” she mumbled as his hands rested on her waist, squeezing her body slightly.

“Like what?” he asked as he scanned her features.

It was difficult to form any words, all she kept thinking about was kissing him again. She leaned towards him, pressing her lips against his urgently. Luke tightened his grip along her waist. Her hands continued to run through his hair.

“Like it matters,” she mumbled against his lips. He smiled before he leaned towards her kissing her again.

~three months later~

It was New Years Eve and she used to hate it. Every year without someone to kiss, every year false hope of a better year ahead. Yet, she had real hope for a better year ahead. Four months ago, Luke took her by surprise and every day since she’s finding herself falling for him harder and harder.

It was too early to say she was in love but there was something different this time. He was gentle and patient and sweet. He was everything she’s ever wanted.

Luke was already at her apartment, it was ten o’clock and they were waiting for their friends to arrive for the night. “Luke,” she let out from the kitchen.

“Yeah?” he let out as he sat up from the couch, he ran his fingers through his hair as he wandered towards her. She stared towards the counter that was filled with alcohol.

“Is this enough, you think?” she asked as she stared towards the overwhelming amount of seltzers on the countertop. Luke chuckled as he stumbled towards her.

“Darling, we could open up a liquor store with all of this. We’ll be fine,” he let out as he walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She leaned back against his chest. Her eyes shut as she felt her lips curl up in a soft grin. “We’re not having a party right, it’s just the usual people right?” he asked before he pressed his lips to the side of her head.

“Yeah, but I think Erik said he was inviting a few of his other friends. So I don’t want to run out,” she explained as she opened her eyes, tilting her head back she met his gaze.

“I’ll think we’ll be okay,” he whispered into her ear before he pressed his lips against the side of her head again. “Are you alright?”

She spun around, leaning against the countertop as she met his gaze. He rested his hands onto her lowerback as she rested her hands onto his chest. “I’ve never been better,” she let out.

He squinted his eyes suspiciously as he pursed his lips forward, “That sounded very sarcastic,” he let out teasingly.

“Not sarcastic,” she muttered. He hummed as he leaned towards her, kissing her urgently.

“Yeah, right,” he mumbled against her lips as the doorbell rang. “Come on, my love,” he let out as he slowly slipped away from her, taking a hold of her hand.

“I can’t believe I agreed to host this party,” she mumbled as she delicately tugged him back.

“It’ll be fun,” he mumbled as he rested his hands onto her waist, kissing her cheek reassuringly. “And if it’s not, we’ll sneak away to your room,” he whispered before he guided them towards the door.

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alchemistc · 2 months ago

Text

He never hid it from Bobby. That's the thing he keeps trying to remind himself, as he sits on the razor edge of this dumb fucking argument and keeps deciding not to ask for advice on how to fix it.

He never hid it from Bobby. It was just -

Bobby's approval means something to him. It always does. Hell, even fucked up coma-dream Bobby digging through pill bottles had been the conscience on his shoulder. And at the time he'd been sure of two things:

1. He wanted this to work with Tommy

and

2. If Bobby had cautioned him he'd have backed off from his speed run to reassess and he didn't want to second guess himself.

Because it had felt right. It had felt good, and safe and warm and terrifying in a way he'd never really experienced before.

So. He'd talked about Tommy at work and he'd dealt with the teasing (he'd loved the teasing) and when Bobby had caught him tucking a toiletry bag stuffed with condoms and lube into his overnight bag, and told him Tommy was good people - good for him - he'd rode that high for another three months.

It had felt - adult. Grown up. No need to hit up Captain Dad for advice on this new thing he'd navigated with advice from people he saw more as peers than authority figures.

Only.

It had felt like the first time Emily Harden had smiled at him from her desk two seats over from his, too - heart fluttering in his chest and eyes catching on the thin skin of her neck right below her earlobe and he'd ducked his head and wanted to bash it into his desk just to make sure he wasn't dreaming because he could still feel her lips - sticky with that sweet tasting gloss - on his from when they'd snuck behind the auxillary classroom after lunch.

And it had felt like that first time he'd fumbled with a condom in the back seat of someone else's car and Ashley J had giggled, two years older and definitely not the first time for her, and steadied his hand as she rolled it on for him, and Buck had been pretty sure he loved her. (He'd loved her the way a child loves it's favorite toy, and he'd cherished her for paying so much frank attention to him, and she'd loved the way his cock filled his shorts and her pussy and how focused he was on making it good for her.) He hadn't even come, that first time, too fucking terrified to go off early that the nerves had settled like a vice around his balls and so instead he'd grunted into the side of her neck, pulled out and gotten his fingers up in her just to make sure the fluttering he'd felt around him was real, and with hushed gasps she'd ridden the palm of his hand until the fluttering happened a second time and he discreetly tucked himself back in his shorts before she could notice.

It felt like - firsts and lasts and everything in between. Tommy - Tommy was something new and good and achingly familiar at the same time Buck felt like he'd never experienced anything quite like this before.

So.

And Bobby - Bobby's been off doing this new thing, away from them because he'd - he'd been done, or something. With the job, with the 118, with Buck maybe too

He's mad as hell right now, though, headset on while Athena relays the absolutely ridiculous plan they've concocted and even as Bobby drives the engine they'd one hundred percent stolen from the set of Hotshots (they weren't even hotshots, is a thing he knows and has ranted about to Tommy multiple times, while Tommy licked icing from Buck's bellybutton and dropped amusing snark into the skin of his thigh). And actually, Bucks's mad too, because he and Tommy haven't resolved the whatever it is that had actually been at the heart of their stupid fight and now he's - now he's -

Mehta is already on scene, commandeering a hangar to set up the engines from other stations, and he's taking over comms even as Bobby's lips purse and Athena's voice trails off.

"They're insane," Buck says, and Bobby's nod is crisp and firm. "That sounds like a bad movie plot."

Bobby blinks, and then he does something inexplicably frustrating. He laughs. "It is. It actually is a bad movie plot."

He barely stops laughing the entire drive there.

Buck isn't actually sure why they took the fake fire engine - it isn't actually kitted out with anything real other than a CO2 tank, Buck isn't even sure the ladder extends, but maybe Bobby had just been caught up in the moment, although - although he's driving this one, after some weird tense standoff with the actor Buck's pretty sure plays the captain in the dumb inaccurate firefighter show (they've never even shown the 119 doing fire suppression, let alone dropping into a wildfire, why did they call it Hotshots), which is not usual at all.

Buck feels the stress all along his spine, in his bad leg, rolling along his arms and up his neck while Mehta keeps the lines mostly clear and then there's Tommy's voice. He's in the air, and it's weird to realize that he's not at the controls, because instead he's gonna do something absolutely batshit insane.

("Give that man thirty seconds and he can figure out how to fly anything," Ruiz had mentioned, three months ago, while Buck piled another scoop of casserole onto her plate and watched Tommy duck his head bashfully like it was embarrassing to be so good at your job that people thought you were maybe a little superhuman.)

Mehta looks simultaneously pissed and resigned when they disembark from the purloined engine. It's gone full dark, by now, and most of the engines in the bay are set up and ready to go, and Bobby's haphazard parking job has put them just out of the way. There's a 217 engine tucked in between two 118's and Buck wants to take a picture of it to send to Tommy because he'll either have something amusing or devastatingly charming and sappy to say back but -

But Tommy's harnessing up in the back of a chopper he's usually flying and also they're still fighting.

Maybe.

Kind of.

Bobby gets a stern look and a finger pointed towards where Hen has the 118 circling her, and Mehta just sighs when Buck looks to him for orders. Buck is - technically - maybe a little suspended right now, on account of being the reason Gerrard has a crack in his skull instead of a saw blade in his side, but the all hands on deck situation seems to be tipping in Buck's favor.

"You leave my comm line open, Buckley," Mehta says and waves him in the direction of the 118.

Buck races to catch up to Bobby

---

It actually works, is the thing, and Buck watches Bobby wrapping Athena up in his arms and remembers that moment something had clicked over in his head - some deep part of his brain following the interesting pull of this firefighter pilot with a wicked sense of humor and the same fucked up crazy fuck it attitude Buck's family had. Who Cares, only they all care so goddamn deeply about everything all the time, and Buck's hindbrain had recognized something long before the rest of it did.

Tommy's the last one off the plane. He's got a helmet tucked under his arm and the harness still in place and his hair is a mess, sticking up on one side and plastered to his head on the other, sweaty and windswept and smiling at Buck the moment he catches sight of him.

Eddie and Chim are both busy dealing with passengers and Buck is grateful as hell because he absolutely knows he'd end up competing for Tommy's attention if they were around to see him disembark.

(They're at work, Buck reminds himself. They are in full view of about a dozen different firehouses and a planeful of passengers besides. Buck is still mad at Tommy.)

"Hey," Tommy says, low and gravelly half a second before he slings out an arm to drag Buck in by his neck.

("Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?" he'd asked, anxiety creeping red hot up the back of his neck, and Tommy had been joking, probably, but Buck can't quite remember the circuitous path they'd made to this point, only the feeling like he was five inches tall and Tommy didn't want to be his date to some official LAFD thing. "Like - I mean - I thought the whole point of you pumping the brakes forever ago was you didn't want to hide or be hidden, Tommy!"

And they hadn't actually gotten past that, because all hands on deck meant every firefighter in LA had gotten the reverse 911 that highly encouraged them to get to their stations immediately.

Buck resists for half a second, and Tommy's eyes dart to his when it takes more muscle than he'd been expecting to tug Buck to him.

He looks so goddamn good. Buck wants to eat him up. He also -

"People can see, Tommy," Buck says, and Tommy's smile is wry.

"Kinda the point, sweetheart," he says, and Buck doesn't fight it when he tips his head to press their foreheads together.

They still gotta have this out. They need to actually talk about it, despite Tommy's aversion to digging deep into his psyche to pick at his vulnerabilities. They need to -

Someone wolf whistles across the tarmac. Probably fifty heads turn in their direction. Tommy tips his chin up to press his lips to Buck's birthmark.

"You're not off the hook for the conversation just because you decided to be a bit of an exhibitionist," Buck says, and Tommy's face does something complicated but ultimately understanding.

Mehta makes direct eye contact and looks somewhere between amused and annoyed, but he doesn't make a move towards them.

"Do I at least get points for being a badass?"

Buck raises a brow, and Tommy pouts a little.

"How about a very public kiss, at least?"

"I distinctly remember you saying something about how shoving it down peoples throats was something you had a problem with."

"I had some time to rethink my position, while I was clinging to the nose of a plane."

Buck loves him. He's - they're -

Buck dips forward for a quick peck, and across the tarmac it sounds like Donato and at least a dozen other firefighters have gathered to heckle - they get a few canned boos and some hissing, a rapt audience. Tommy tosses something over his shoulder that Buck can't see because he's suddenly being crowded into Tommy, hands on both hips and his nose digging into Buck's cheek.

"They're not gonna stop until we give 'em a show."

"They got a whole B Movie plot already," Buck argues, but he's tracing the grooves of Tommy's smile.

"Evan, you know those always close on a kiss before the credits roll."

He does, actually, now, because Tommy isn't shy at all about sharing his interests with Buck. Movie nights happen all the time, and sometimes Tommy gets invested enough that Buck climbing into his lap isn't even enough to distract him.

"I'm serious, though. We actually have to talk about this, at some point."

Tommy tips his head to the side, blows out a breath against Buck's earlobe. "You finally cave and hit up Bobby for advice?"

Buck can't help but nip at a tendon drawn tight against the side of Tommy's neck. Whatever their crowded audience can see in their shadowy embrace spurns them into a catcall or two.

"At least I'm not going to Eddie," he snipes, because he knows Eddie knows more than he's letting on. "Also no, because we can figure this out on our own."

Tommy's cheek dances up against Buck's, like Buck's said something he appreciates. "Will you just kiss me already so we can get rid of the peanut gallery?"

Buck tips his chin and gathers Tommy's lips in his own - a beat, two, three, and off in the distance he can hear Donato making her minions disperse, and then he's lost to the kiss for a bit.

When they break for air, Buck has a hand stuffed half-in the zip of Tommy's flight suit, and Tommy's looking at him with something soft and warm and achingly quiet amidst the cacophony. "I really wish you were a little less of an adrenaline junkie, but, uh... you just rappelled out of a helicopter onto the nose of a plane and landed it safely and that's - really doing it for me."

"Evan," he says, faux-scandalized. "Stop trying to seduce me before we've had excruciating serious talk."

#bucktommy #bucktommy fic #this wandered too much the adhd brain is real for both me and buck

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mind-intheclouds342 · 27 days ago

Text

Do it for them - Co-captain x Curly

Previous - Part 7 - Next

Warning: Abortion mention.

You were watching the ultrasound you were doing on Anya, and you ran your hand over your face upon seeing the fetus.

"When"

Anya: "...I found out just before the crash..."

"Why didn't you tell me?" You turned to look at Curly on the stretcher and then saw Anya, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Anya: "For a moment I thought that... you wouldn't do anything for me either... and then, with all the responsibility you had on your shoulders... I didn't want to give you more problems."

"Why did you think I wasn't going to help you?"

Anya: "...You were always on the captain's side..."

"Well, when he had reasonable decisions, of course I agreed! Ugh... I don't want to talk about this now, let's focus on this now... How many weeks approximately?"

Anya: "...14 weeks..."

"Great, you're still on time. I know I ordered misoprostol, it must be somewhere."

Anya: "What's that?"

"It would help you to abort"

Anya: "How did you manage to get them to add that?"

"Well, I lied saying that some of the crew had gastric ulcers due to the consumption of aspirin to treat the inflammation caused by radiation when they had to go on walks outside the ship... And I sent Curly to ask for it so they didn't ask questions."

You mentioned searching through the cabinets for that medication until you found the tablet and handed it to her.

"I warn you that it's going to be hell, it's completely your decision, and I'll be with you to help you with all this."

You said, holding the pills while she watched you, slowly taking the box.

Anya: "How do you know?"

You fell silent and your eyes quickly moved to give Curly a glance, and then back to Anya, who understood immediately.

"Those are the side effects mentioned in the content if you take them when you are pregnant."

You told him right away and then sat down sighing.

Anya: "You look tired... Shall we grab a drink?"

You knew very well why he was saying that now, but you nodded to leave that place, not without first greeting your husband, letting him know you would be back soon.

Anya: "How was that?"

"I had gotten pregnant a few years ago, and we were about to make a new delivery, before that I asked Curly for a new load of medications, I was going to finish it myself on the ship."

Anya: "Why didn't you stay? Why didn't you do it in a safe way?"

"They keep an eye on everything you do, and they judge you. I wouldn't have gotten this job back, they would have done thousands of physical and mental tests to tell me I wasn't qualified to be co-captain... And I didn't want Curly to find out either."

You shrugged and took a seat while you prepared what was like hot chocolate, placing the powder in some cups and pouring water over them.

Anya: "Didn't he suspect anything?"

"I knew how to hide it, at that time there were only men on the ship, I lied saying it was my period, no one cared enough to ask more questions... Although Curly was very worried, he couldn't neglect his work that much either."

Anya: "...How was it? I want to know exactly what I'm going to face."

"...Hemorrhages, pelvic pain, depression, infections.... infertility"

You looked at the cup in your hands while saying this last part, taking a sip of its contents.

Anya: "...There aren't too many painkillers left in the nursery... Not for the three of us... Not for all this time we have to wait-"

She pressed her lips together as she placed her hand on her belly and tightened her uniform.

"Oh right, I haven't told you yet, the ship is heading to a Pony Express station, there we can ask for a rescue, we'll arrive in two more months."

Anya: "Even so, there aren't enough."

"I've already endured hell, I can do it again, don't worry about my dose."

Anya: "But-"

"Think about yourself! Please! Stop thinking about others!"

You slammed the cup against the table, causing a bit of the liquid to spill.

"It's your decision... Just...Decide... For you, not for others."

Anya: "Captain..."

You lifted your head upon hearing her say that, and you could see a small smile on her lips.

Anya: "Thank you"

#mouthwash #mouthwashing #mouthwashing game #mouthwashing x reader #anya mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #swansea mouthwashing #curly mouthwashing #captain curly #captain curly x reader #mouthwashing curly #do it for them mouthwashing

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i-like-writing-stuff · 3 months ago

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grateful [ five hargreeves x reader ]

“Fancy seeing you here,” You crossed your arms, trying to act natural as the boy before you eyes you curiously.

“In front of the CIA headquarters?” Five mimicked your posture, “Jee, Y/N, fork spotted in the kitchen. What are you doing at my work place?”

You sighed, trying to fight back the urge of rolling your eyes. You were lying to yourself if you wanted to say that Five’s sarcasm actually annoyed you. After all, it was one of the traits you loved about him- surprisingly. You hated to admit it, even to yourself, but even if you were actually waiting for him to talk business, you never once missed an opportunity to meet him.

Especially if you weren’t surrounded by your noisy family. The Hargreeves siblings became your family by choice, and as much as you loved each and every single one of them, you couldn’t help but appreciate deeply the one on one time you got to spend with Five.

“I just got off the phone with Luther,” You said, putting your hands in your pockets, “Viktor got kidnapped, Five.”

As soon as those words eat your lips, you saw Five’s expression go from cocky to shocked, to worried and then to shocked once again. You hated you had to be the one to break these news to him, after six years of peace where all of you managed to live normal lives. You hated that you had to see him worried again for his family’s safety, but you had no other choice.

You all had to reunite to save your loved one.

“I’ll drive,” Five nodded, already realizing that the gang would have to get back together.

You and Five met during the JFK mission in 1963, when both of you were working for the Commission. You only heard of him around the work place, but never actually worked together. The Handler assigned you both for the first time to get the assassination done, but one thing led to another and you accidentally woke up in 2019, in your teen body, alongside him.

The rest is history.

As you got into his car, you watched him as he started the engine in silence. He was deep into thought, obviously worried half to death about his brother. You were as well, since Viktor was his first sibling you warmed up to, and honestly it felt surreal that he was in danger again, after six years.

Six years where nothing, and quite literally nothing out of the ordinary happened. After your third attempt at stopping the apocalypse and the Hargreeves losing their powers, you all moved on with your lives, keeping in touch now and then. All nine of you went separate ways, rebuilding your lives. Allison was back to acting, Klaus was finally sober, Diego and Lila were a family with kids, Viktor was running a bar and Luther was working somewhat as an astronaut. Key word, somewhat.

Five became a CIA agent and you were running a marketing agency, so you really only saw the family on holidays or random gatherings. You and him kept in touch the most. You were happy to say that he was your best friend, but sad that nothing more went on. If you were supposed to be together, you would have been by now.

After all, there was this drunken kiss you shared on the night of Luther’s wedding.

“Shut the fuck up, Hargreeves!” You giggled, pointing a finger m at him, “I respect Delores, I swear I do, but I do not understand why in the world she would put up with your ding dong face, honestly.”

“Oh, spare me the reverse psychology in which your jealousy lays, Y/N,” Five smirked, softly waving away your finger in his face.

You were the only ones left on the dance floor, intoxicated over the safe limit. After the whole family went to sleep, the two of you were still left quite energized. You didn’t know if it was because you were sixty year olds back in your teen bodies, or simply too drunk to realize how hyperactive you were, but you were not about to end the night any time soon.

You couldn’t exactly pinpoint the moment you fell in love with Five, but he definitely could write an entire book of how he grew feelings for you. It all happened at such a slow pace, how could he not? When he first met you in 1963 at the Dealey Plaza, he was immediately taken aback by your quick wit and intellect. He also didn’t think someone who looked so sweet and elegant, like the grandma who would take her grandchildren all the time to fancy restaurants and then bake fresh cookies for them at home, could also be a trained assassin, ready to fight off three people at once wearing dresses and heels.

It was love at first sight for him.

Then, when you kept Delores safe from Hazel and Cha Cha, he realized just how big your heart was. He was completely blown away by the way you held onto the mannequin with one arm, while dodging attacks incoming from both of them.

There was also this moment in 1963 when you held him in your arms after he went on a spree, taking out the entire board of the Commission.

He was so infatuated with every single action of yours, so deeply and intensely in love it was actually pathetic to him, to some degree. Now, as his hands were firmly gripping your waist, swaying your hips in sync to the melody on the speakers, all he wanted to do was feel your lips on his, for a first and last time.

“What’s on your mind?” You asked, as your arms were wrapped around his neck. You didn’t know when you got so close to one another, it was all just so natural.

“Ironically enough, you,” He scoffed, making you roll your eyes;

“Only you could make such a romantic comment and at the same time make me want to stomp on your face, Five,” You said amused, shaking your head in disbelief.

Five laughed, looking into your eyes. In his drunken state, he was not thinking rationally as he usually did anymore. He didn’t know for certain if he’d make it out of the apocalypse this time, and after the two attempts at saving the world, the regret of not tasting you was finally getting to him.

He moved his hands up your sides, resting them on your cheeks at last. Rubbing your face gently, Five leaned in to capture your lips, tasting the alcohol you shared all night. You were relieved to finally feel his touch you so deeply craved over the months spent together, pulling him even closer, as if that was possible.

That led to nowhere, unfortunately, as neither of you ever mentioned it again. Like little stupid kids, all these years you both assumed that the other didn’t remember that part, since no one ever brought it up ever again.

“Viktor will be fine, Five,” You broke the silence, watching as his knuckles turned white while gripping the steering wheel, waiting for the green light.

“I just forgot how fucking stressful all this shit was,” Five sighed, letting go, but not looking at you yet, “So stupid.”

“Hey,” You placed a hand on top of his, “We will rescue him and go back to our lives before, okay? Who knows, maybe it’s not even that serious- maybe it’s just some misunderstanding or a real easy mission. We stopped the apocalypse three times, I think some amateur kidnapping will be a walk in the park, okay? Besides, maybe by the time we get there, Viktor will have already handed their asses to each other.”

Five scoffed amused. You did always manage to be the voice of reason in his life whenever the over-thinking got the best of him.

You didn’t have any idea just how grateful he was for you.

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy x reader #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves imagines #number five #number five x reader #five hargreeves imagine #number five imagine #tua x reader #tua season 4

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queen-of-the-avengers · 3 months ago

Text

Slippery Rendezvous

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: none

Summary: Natasha doesn’t approve of your feelings for Bucky despite your many attempts to convince her that he is the man for you. What else can you do when she forbids you to date any of her friends?

Squares Filled: natasha romanoff / black widow (2021) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

You wake up to an empty bed. What did you expect? That he’d stay? Bucky isn’t known to spend the night after fucking you but you keep wishing he would. You run your hand down his side of the bed and feel the cool sheets. He must have left early in the morning so that your sister wouldn’t see him.

It’s not like she hates him but she hates the idea of you being with any one of her “coworkers”. Natasha isn’t shy when it comes to relationships and often encourages you to go out and have fun with different men. She loves dating even if she doesn’t show it, and you love telling her about all the dates you get to go on. The issue is that she doesn’t want you dating anyone she knows. She knows the baggage that comes with the men she knows and doesn’t want you mixed up with it.

You went to University to get a degree as a voice actor. You’ve gotten gigs across the country but ultimately settled in New York where you got a job working on a popular animated television series. You’re already in your third season and have no plans of stopping anytime soon. Natasha loves to tell you how normal you are and how different you are compared to the shit she goes through every day.

You’re not a spy and you have no desire to be a spy. You’re not Natasha’s biological sister because you came into her life well after she got done with the Red Room training. She was on a mission to kill your father for all the bad shit he has been doing. You hated the man and had always wanted to leave. However, your mother died at birth and you were a minor at the time. He always hid his shady shit which is why he didn’t get convicted for anything.

She saved you and she adopted you a couple of years later. You don’t blame her for your father’s death even if she did pull the trigger. He’s a bad man who is rotting in Hell and you’re better off for it. Now, you have a successful job and are in love with the infamous Winter Soldier. Only he doesn’t know it and if he does, he doesn’t do anything about it.

You two met when Natasha was having a party at the Avengers Compound. She didn’t want you to go but you insisted that with her by your side, you’ll be fine. It’s not like the Avengers are going to pick a fight with you or anything. Even Bruce had his alter ego under control, so she relented and let you come.

Her world is and was much different than yours. She told stories of how she went to space, how she kicked someone’s ass, and how she infiltrated an organization. All you have to show for is the work you’ve done for entertainment. You’re not nearly as special as any of them but Bucky makes you feel like you are.

He kept to himself in the corner of the room drinking something that wasn’t alcohol when you approached him.

“Hi. Do you mind if I join you?”

“No, go ahead,” he clears his throat.

“I’m Y/N. I’m Natasha’s sister. Adopted sister, actually, but she feels like a real one to me. What’s your name?”

“You seriously don’t know who I am?” he chuckles.

“I know who you are but I’d thought I’d be polite and let you introduce yourself instead of assuming I know everything about you.”

“Right,” he nods. “I’m Bucky.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Bucky.”

You two fell into conversation that lasted well past the party. Natasha had a secret thing for Steve and didn’t mind staying over as long as you were safe and okay with staying. You left that night with thoughts of Bucky and when the next time you were going to see him, but Natasha didn’t share your enthusiasm.

“Listen, I don’t want to tell you what to do but I don’t want you seeing Bucky.”

“Funny. That sounds exactly like you telling me what to do,” you scoff.

“I mean it, Y/N. Bucky is a good guy now but he wasn’t always like this. He’s not all the way back yet and I don’t want you getting hurt. With any of them. They have too much baggage and you don’t need something like that in your life.”

You look out the window in annoyance.

“I just spent the last two hours talking to a guy who made me feel like I was the only woman in the world. I’m not saying I want to marry the guy but I felt something that I haven’t felt with any of the guys I’ve dated.”

“I knew bringing you to that party was a bad idea,” she scoffs. “You’re not seeing Bucky. End of story.”

“I am an adult, Nat. Let me make my own decisions. Let me decide if he’s worth the heartbreak.”

“He will do more than break your heart. He will break you. He didn’t get his name for nothing. His body count is well into the hundreds if not thousands. I am not worried about him breaking your heart. I’m worried about him killing you. I mean it, Y/N. Stay away from that one.”

You tried, God knows you tried, but there is something about Bucky that you couldn’t stay away from. You formed friendships with Wanda and Thor which gave you an excuse of going to the compound where you knew Bucky was living. Wanda caught on pretty quickly at what you were trying to do since she can read minds and all that, and she agreed to keep your affair with Bucky from your sister.

You’re not trying to hurt Natasha but you fell for Bucky and fell for him hard. He just never stays the night like you hope he does.

You get out of bed and walk to the bathroom where you hear the shower going. Natasha must be in there. You slip in and knock on the door to let her know that you’re inside the bathroom with her.

“Hey, Nat, I’m just going to brush my teeth. I’ll be out shortly.”

You slip in, close the door behind you, and walk over to the sink.

“I’m not Nat.”

You tense when you hear Bucky’s deep voice but then smile when you realize he slept the night in your bed. The curtain slides to the side just enough for him to peek his head out of it, and you turn to face him.

“I thought you left last night.”

“Nope. I wanted to stay the night with you. Is that okay?”

“It’s more than okay.”

He closes the curtain again and resumes cleaning himself.

“Got any plans today?”

You’re about to answer when you hear the front door slam open and shut. Natasha is the only one who has a key so she must be back. If she found out Bucky has not only been dating you but secretly fucking you, she’d have a heart attack and probably kill him.

“Y/N? Are you in there?” The bathroom door shakes and you do the first thing that comes to mind. You quickly hop in the shower, fully clothed, and look at Bucky who smirks. The door opens and Nat walks in. “Y/N?”

“I’m in the shower!” Bucky’s mouth opens so you place your hand over it so he understands he needs to be quiet. “What do you want?”

“Listen, Steve and some of the guys are having a cookout at Clint’s farm. I was wondering if you wanted to come with me.”

“Really? You’ll let me go?”

“I feel bad and I shouldn’t keep you away from your friends.”

“Is Bucky going to be there?”

Bucky nods and looks at you with mischievous eyes.

“Yeah.”

“Then I’ll go.”

“I invited you because Wanda and Thor will be there. They’re your friends.”

“I know.”

“Y/N…”

“It’s fine, Nat. I’ll hang with them.”

“Okay. We leave in an hour.”

She leaves the bathroom and you remove your hand from Bucky’s mouth knowing you didn’t need it to be there. He knows Natasha’s opinion of him and how she wouldn’t approve of you two dating. He just wanted to feel your hands on him if he’s being honest.

“Great, now I’m all wet. Look what you did.”

“I like it when you’re wet,” he smirks.

You shove his shoulder and scoff playfully but he grabs you and pulls you into him. He slides his hands into your hair and kisses you. He must forget the situation you’re in because you can feel his growing arousal on your stomach.

“No, Bucky, we should stop. I will not be tempted into shower sex again. Remember what happened last time?”

“Damn, my arm malfunctions one time and you’re triggered.”

“Can I trust you to keep your hands to yourself at this cookout?”

“No,” he chuckles. “It’s gonna be hard not to. Now I’m picturing you wet.”

“Hurry up and leave before she finds you in here. I’d rather not know what a fight between Black Widow and the Winter Soldier looks like.”

You slip out of the shower and back to your room without your sister noticing. While you’d like your relationship to be out in the open, sneaking around is just too much damn fun.

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

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arthenaa · 1 year ago

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my love mine all mine— mizu x f! reader

synopsis: marriage is nigh for someone your age and with society's expectations of you, how long will you have to keep waiting for him?

content: 18+ nsfw, mdni, angst w comfort, fluff, she/her pronouns for reader, he/she pronouns for mizu, patriarchal views on women, arranged marriage, jealousy, use of sex toys, idiots in love

a/n: part 2 of nocturne (interlude)!! this is for that anon who was on their finals week (ur req got deleted i h8 tumblr) and to those who requested for a part 2 !!! a reward for your hard work

Your relationship with Mizu was ... interesting.

After what happened that day, your relationship progressed into a deeper sense of connection. He was attracted to you as much as you were attracted to him. A fact that made your fingers tingle with anticipation every time he came down to your village under the guise of getting more medicine.

Your father had no complaints as business is business and provided him with what he needed, although you could see the occassional side eyes that your father gives him every time he stays longer than he was supposed to be. It was a comical sight indeed.

Mizu helped you out as much as he could—whether it be mundane house chores or taxing ones that require hard labor or a change of locations, he was down to accompany you in any way.

While yes, his efforts of providing you aid sent a surge of butterflies down your stomach, what ultimately led you to hammering a nail in the coffin was the subtle touches that he gave you.

You knew he knew and he knew that he was being smug about it. While it didn't show on his face, his eyes told it all. Whether it be passing by and gently placing a hand on the small of your back to excuse himself out of your way as if there wasn't a 2-meter space to your right or the brushing of fingers when he lent you something or if he's being bold enough, especially when your father's not looking, outright pretending that there was a fabric stuck on your hairpin and so he leans in close to you only to place a kiss on your cheek—he always has to have some sort of skinship with you during the day. It often left you struggling for words or having a flushed face.

"Dear," Your father furrows his eyebrows as he eyes your flushed cheeks. You tense in his gaze as he glances at Mizu who appears calm as he takes a sip of his drink. The blue-eyed samurai had done it again—saw an opening and took it like he was meant for it. He fooled you into thinking that your hair was out of place and offered to fix it. Your father had stepped out to get the food and you had hoped that he stayed somehow so that you wouldn't have to deal with all this bullcrap. Mizu took the chance to grab your chin and place a kiss on your lips. Your father came back shortly and you haven't relaxed since. "You don't look alright. Do you want me to—?"

"I-It's fine, Dad!" You intercept, hands raised as you shake no. "The soup was just... hot."

You glance at Mizu who looks at you from the side of his eye. He smirks over his cup.

It was safe to say that Mizu was also mischievous by nature. Despite his usual calm and cool demeanor, you didn't expect the man before you to be quite playful when it came to just between the two of you.

You did all these things, said all those things, looked at each other with things unspoken of and you're quite sure that your relationship was susceptible to the one thing you're quite sure would lead to.

Marriage.

A want for some, a necessity for many. You'd think that in your years of living in this town that you'd find a partner suitable for marriage and you did! Just a little bit later than others.

You had expected that... Mizu would propose. After all, what comes after dating but marriage? Your father and mother did that, your aunts, uncles, cousins, hell, even your friends already got married albeit some of them out of their own will.

You dreamed of having a true love marriage. One that you could be yourself and never have to be ashamed of loving someone despite their stature in life. One that you could coexist with and that could never demean your existence as a woman. You knew those things were far fetched from reality but everyone wishes to dream right?

You had tried discreetly asking about it, curious as to why he barely mentions anything but he only casts you an unreadable look on his face then a soft smile.

He kissed the back of your hand with a gentle touch, softness mirroring that of a snowflake's descent.

"... I can't," He says. You're not sure as to why he sounded in pain, like something was troubling him but you knew better than to pry. "Not right now."

So you let it go.

It was times like this that you felt the other half of the relationship. Like there was still a barrier you couldn't decipher between you. Why he often looks secretive with your father at times or why he falls silent at the most random of moments. There was something you didn't know and it often aches you that you couldn't be able to understand him unless you knew the inner workings of his mind.

The first instance that brought up the onslaught of problems that would soon arise was the arrival of a proposal from the south. It came in the form of a letter, writings neatly imprinted on fine parchment—rolled with the delicacy that of a noble.

You could see your father's nervous glance as the messenger read what was sent to him. You could hear bits and pieces of the arrangement, hands wringing each other in anxiety as your eyes trained on your father's back. Mizu had not arrived that day and normally, you would fret over such things but your father casts a glance at you over his shoulder and suddenly everything seems to have changed its course.

"Father," You pant as you gather the ends of your kimono, trying to match the pace of your patriarch as he travels all over the house. He seems to not be at rest from the talk with the messenger—a perpetual stone-cold look plastered on his face. "Father!"

He enters the part of your house you haven't gone to in ages. Not because you despised it but because you were afraid that the spirit that once dwelled in its abode would arise and look at you with those same eyes that once held all the love and memories when you were but a wee girl. You hesitate at the entrance but decide to follow him through.

"Not right now, Y/N," He mumbles, agitated as he crouches over a chest and begins digging through the array of clothes. Your eyebrows furrow.

"What—What did he say?" You stammer as you stand to his left, eyes watching his every move as he frantically rummages through the fabrics. "Father, I have—I need to know."

Your father pauses, defeatedly slumping against the chest as his fingers tap against the wooden surface in thought. Silence ensues between the two of you and suddenly he turns to you with a sympathetic look on his face. Your blood runs cold.

"Lord Shimizu—" He pauses, catching himself stammering as he looked into those eyes that were fruition of shared dreams and a love he hasn't forgotten in ages. "He asked for your hand in marriage."

You stare at him with a shaky gaze, breath going in and out as you tried to process his response.

"Then-Then tell him no," Your eyebrows furrow. Your father falls silent at your words. "Tell him like you've always told the others."

"I can't, Y/N," He whispers, tone shifting into despair. Your shoulders are low as he lowers his head in shame.

"What do you mean you can't?"

"I can't," He emphasizes his words once more, eyes darting up to meet yours. "I have always tried to protect you but I can't this time."

Your face falls in desperation as you kneel down with him. You grab his hands in an attempt to convince him once more.

"Father, please, I can't—I don't even know him!" You plead as your grip on his callous fingers tightens. He looks at you with sadness. "Please Father, I'll do anything, just don't—"

"Y/N," He cuts you off with a stern voice. You fall silent as you wait for his response. "This man is from Kyoto. While the men here fear my stature as a medic, this man has access to professionals far greater than me. He doesn't regard me as someone important and if I dare raise my voice, we might as well be dead."

Your figure tenses at his words. He grabs your arms in an attempt to comfort you. In a last attempt to get him to decline the offer, you say the thoughts that have been at the forefront of your mind.

"I'm in love with Mizu," Your voice comes out in a whisper, eyes wide and tears welling up. He tenses at your confession, eyebrows furrowing at the implications.

"You—"

"Father, I love him." Your voice comes out in a desperate attempt to get him to see you. Your hands raise to touch his arm but he suddenly raises to his feet, taking a few steps back. Your heart speeds up at his reaction.

"Is that why he—?" Your father whispers out in thought. You're not sure if he was angry or disappointed, but you're quite sure that this was a bad thing. His face contorts into a look of anger as he continues to look at you with a hardened gaze. "When was this?"

"You told me you wanted me to have a true love marriage, Father—This is it!" You look up at him with a defiance so strong that it almost gives your father a whiplash of how similar it looked. He falters in his stance but remains rooted to his cause.

"I know but not to—!" He catches himself at the end of his sentence. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. He runs a hand through his face before sighing. "Not like this. Not to him. Not Mizu, Y/N."

Your eyebrows furrow in anger at his words. "You can't dictate what I feel for him."

There's a moment of silence as your father casts you an unreadable look on his face. You thought that your father might approve of Mizu. They after all started at the same steps and eventually grew to the path they were destined for, albeit in different fields. You're not quite sure as to what led to this defiance against your choice for marriage but it already has you intruiged.

"The messenger talks of praises of Lord Shimizu," Your father diverts the conversation. "I also hear that he is a general and part of the Emperor's Kingsguard. He is of noble stature and earned his keep. He is a man fitting of your deserving."

You fall silent at his words before finally rising to your height and dusting off your kimono. You glance at the chest, eyeing the white fabric that pops out of an array of multicolored ones. You turn back to your father.

"You raised me to not be a hypocrite," Your voice is stone cold. Your father flinches at the tone. "I expected you to not be one as well."

With that you left.

The days were grueling.

Presents after presents were sent to your doorstep and while you wish that you could throw them all away, your father accepted them and kept them in the storage, still neatly wrapped for you to open.

Mizu had also arrived less and less over the past couple of days. He usually stays for more than an hour but now he leaves within the 30-minute mark. You felt like your time had been severed into bits and pieces after your fight with your father. You saw them talking, hushed in the receiving area. You expected your father to berate him for influencing his own daughter but their relationship remained civil. In fact, after his talk with your father was what prompted fewer visits and only coming for business.

He also became distant. Little to no skinship—sometimes even none at all. He talks to you in that cold tone of his and even grunts in annoyance when you try to bother him into coming with you to window shop in town.

You thought they were being unfair. That they could freely do things like this beyond your knowledge. Watch you crumble into a pit of despair at the concept of what you believed was the essence of true love. How naïve were you.

The final straw came when Mizu stayed a little bit longer than usual. He was swift with his purchase but remained seated at the tree located just outside your humble abode.

You approached him with soft steps, eyes trained on his head devoid of his kasa and the usual orange tinted glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He looked handsome.

"Why are you like this?" Your voice cuts through the silence, direct and swift as a breeze passes through you. You see the familiar curl on his forehead, swishing back and forth before settling down.

Mizu does not reply for a few seconds before finally responding. "Like what?"

Your breath shakes at his nonchalance. "Like everything's back from the start."

Mizu pauses before turning his head to look at you standing behind him. There's a long duration of silence between you, eyes only locked with each other as the breeze fills in the void.

"Y/N," Your name escapes his lips like a prayer. You will yourself not to fold. "I didn't mean to—"

"Didn't mean to what?"

He rises up from his seat on the ground, grabbing his Kasa in the process. He examines the item, eyeing the material woven intricately to form its shape. You could tell that there were a lot of things in his mind. You could only wait until he decided to break down the walls he built up so high.

"I didn't mean it to be this way." He finally looks at you in the eye, those beautiful shades of blue hidden by a tint of orange. He pauses himself before a change of expression is plastered on his face. "I think it's best if we stop here."

Your breath hitches. "What?"

"I said what I said," He mutters in that neutral tone of his, devoid of emotion. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. "I... I am on a journey and I have wishes to accomplish. I operate on circumstances that prove to be unlawful. It's best that you don't associate yourself with me. I was too distracted to begin with."

Distracted? Is that what he thought all of this was about? Your hands shake in anger as your eyes darted any sort of giveaway that he might just be joking with you. The world was pinning its blame on your shoulders and now you have to receive the consequences of its actions.

You purse your lips, stopping yourself from bawling then and there. You can't give him the satisfaction of seeing yourself in a mess. You refuse.

You turn around without responding, making hasty steps towards your home before halting once more. You turn to see him putting on his Kasa, eyes in a daze. Upon feeling your stare at him, he turns back towards you. His gaze falters.

"I'm sorry." He says.

You could never will out the words you should've said.

Lord Shimizu came on the 3rd day of the week. He wasn't what you expected him to be.

Naturally, nobles of that standing would appear to be egocentric maniacs who dabbled and flaunted their wealth in various entertainment establishments. They act crass and speak crass as if their authority gives them the pass to be an asshole to everybody.

You thought to yourself, this man could have anybody that he wanted. He was a general, a skilled warrior, and a candidate for marriage to Japan's array of elegant and noble women. Why would he pick a humble medic's daughter all the way from Takayama?

Well, the answer finally came to you in flesh instead.

"L-Lord Shimizu!" Your father stammers over his words as a young man, your age enters the establishment. You take a step back towards the panel of the receiving area, slightly shielding yourself from the onslaught of 3-4 men entering the place. "I didn't expect you to be here."

The man does not respond yet, his eyes wander the interior of the establishment before finally settling on you. You flinch back at the intensity of his stare. Your father notices his attention on you before clearing his throat.

"Y/N?" He calls over, eyes meeting with yours as he beckons you over. You grumble under your breath before making hesitant steps to your father's side. "Ah yes, this is Y/N Gojo. My daughter. Y/N, this is Lord Shimizu Kaito."

Your eyes peer up at him underneath your lashes, trying to take a peek at his face. Shimizu flashes you a soft smile before bowing in greeting.

"Apologies for not having been able to meet before. The Emperor had requested me to attend to several cases in various cities. I hope that you and Y/N can forgive my tardy appearance." His voice is proper and elegant but you could only scoff at his words. Apparently, it was loud enough for him, your father, and the two other guards stationed behind him to hear. Your father elbows your waist.

"Apologies for my daughter," He sheepishly smiles. "She seems to have a... cold."

He eyes you with a strict look on his face which you turn to look away at. Just as you wished for all of this to be over, a wave of a hand catches your attention. You turn to look at Shimizu who softly smiles at you once more.

"I know this proposal is sudden but I hope you can give me a chance." He says, voice and tone genuine. You hesitantly purse your lips at his words. "I'll be staying around this time. I hope I can get to know you."

Lord Shimizu stayed true to his word. The past few days were nothing but him trying to get to know you as an individual. He was nice, accommodating, and even dare say, a proper friend you could talk to.

He helped you out in chores, got you gifts, had tea with you, learned your ways, and walked with you in town. If you were the person you were before, you could've deemed this man the perfect match for you.

While you appreciated his eagerness in wanting to get to know you, you also can't help but be reminded of a certain blue-eyed boy every time he did something remotely similar. He talks of his travels, his blade, his peers, his interests, and you're brought back to the time Mizu let you hold his blade in your palms, brought you trinkets from his previous adventure, talked to you about his annoying apprentice, or that he prefers his soba to have a little bit more soup in ratio to his noodles.

Everything remind you of him.

Mizu had not visited in a while. You tried asking about him to your father if he ever came to get medicine but your father denies every question.

Sometimes you catch glimpses of a familiar Kasa roaming the town streets but is only mistaken by a wandering traveler. You're not too sure how long it would take for you to lose your wits about everything.

Sensing the troubling thoughts that plagued your mind, Shimizu offered for you both to take a stroll in town at night and shop for trinkets that you might find interesting to place in your room. He tried his best to keep you entertained, asking about your interests, making you laugh, all that stuff.

The question that prompted you at the start of his arrival began to urge you to put forth a topic for conversation. You wait for Shimizu to finish his words before finally dropping the question.

"Why me?" You ask, eyes gazing into his as he halts at the question. He blinks a couple of times, not able to process the question.

"What?"

"Why me, my lord?" You repeat, hands clutching your satchel. "I am but a mere servant's daughter. You could have anyone."

He licks his lips eyebrows furrowing. "But you are someone."

You raise your eyebrows, urging for him to continue. The man takes a breath, looking around before finally settling his eyes on you.

"I..." He starts off, words trailing as he gazes into your eyes. He continues. "I came here before. As a child."

Your eyes widen at the revelation.

"People talk of a man named Gojo-sensei who was able to remedy almost all illnesses. I was sickly and my condition was worsening." He responds. The city lanterns glow beautifully behind his figure, laughter of children, men, and women alike provides solace in the void of silence between you. "I remember coming in there and seeing you. Seeing your father then..."

He trailed off like he was remembering something painful.

"I remember a lady," His face softens at the thought. Your eyebrows furrow. "While your father did the aiding, this woman had brought me comfort. I was never really coddled and treated with such gentleness back home. I was an only child—a firstborn son. Being soft and dependent was out of the vocabulary."

You fall silent at his words as he looks down at his hands.

"She... she stayed by my side. Fed me, clothed me, made sure I was okay." He looked up at you. "I saw you sometimes, clinging to the ends of her kimono."

A chilling realization surges through your veins. Your silence prompts him to continue.

"I heard the news that she passed away years ago. I wasn't able to come due to my duties but I am indebted to her." He says. "Then, when I visited a month ago. I saw you—a spitting image."

Your breath shakes at the words. "You proposed to me because I looked like my mother?"

Shimizu looks down in shame, hands wringing in nervousness. "I thought that if I married you, I'd be able to receive that same love again."

You let out a breath of disbelief. While the topic of your mother wasn't something you detested talking about, her memory still was something you were quite hesitant to approach. You remember her sickly figure, her weak smile, the day your father broke. It was as if you threaded lightly along the edges of her carved path, wanting to preserve what was left of her image.

You take a step back, eyes looking at him in disbelief. Shimizu falters in his stance.

"I'm sorry, this isn't going to work." You softly mutter, shaking your head. Just as you take another step back, Shimizu panics and tries to grab your hand.

"Y/N, let me explain I—"

A swift change of air alerts you of a new presence and suddenly you feel deja vu. You turn your head to meet the familiar stance of a man you didn't expect to see again.

"I believe she said no." Mizu's voice is authoritative and deep, hand encasing Shimizu's wrist. The man furrows his eyebrows at Mizu who squints back a glare.

"Who are you?! Your jurisdiction?" Shimizu demands. He tries to pull his wrist away only to be met by a steel force. Mizu scoffs.

"I won't let you go until you promise to stay 10 meters away from her." Mizu threatens. Shimizu sweat drops, eyes glancing down at the hand gripping his wrist to the eyes shielded by tinted glasses. Your eyes dart back and forth between the two, afraid that a fight might brawl out and you're not in the mood to see blood spilled.

Shimizu was also a general and if word comes out that one of the Emperor's trusted military aides got injured by someone lower of his stature, your father will definitely pay for the consequences. You rush towards them and grab Mizu's hand to break them apart.

"Let him go," You say. Mizu turns to you with furrowed eyebrows. Your eyes soften, and you nod softly in reassurance. "Let him go, its okay.

Mizu hesitantly lets the man go and Shimizu stumbles back, holding his wrist. Mizu turns to you in concern, hand grabbing your arm as he examines you. "Are you alright?"

You nod, flustered by his attention. "I'm fine."

Feeling Shimizu's stare on you, you look back at the man to see hurt and a realization spread across his face. Your gaze falters.

He clears his throat and fixes his stance. "Apologies, Y/N. It seems that I have miscalculated my approaches. Forgive me for my behavior."

"It's alright, my lord," You respond. Mizu stands menacingly beside you, eyes trained on his figure. Shimizu glances at him and then at you. He smiles.

"It was nice being your friend," He says. He bows as respect. You curtsy back, albeit shaky. "I'll leave as requested. I wish you luck."

He leaves without turning back. You watch as he gets lost in the crowd, the breeze gently swinging your clothes back and forth. The lanterns dazzle the streets—performing a pretense of joy. You take a breath before finally facing the last of your problems.

Mizu stands there, eyes already looking at you with an unreadable look on his face. Your eyes soften.

"What are you doing here?" You mumble, lacking the energy to even be angry. Mizu shifts in his stance.

"I came back." He answers vaguely.

"For what?"

There a pause of silence before he moves to remove his Kasa. You can see his face clearly now, albeit those beautiful eyes of his still covered by his glasses.

"For you." He says. He gulps as if nervous and your eyes widen at his confession.

"But I thought you said—"

"I was a coward," He says. He heaves a breath. "I have loved before and shown them everything and yet I have ruined them. I was afraid that I might—that I might ruin you with what I am."

You fall silent at his words. You were confused, you had already seen what others claim to be the worst of him—in fact, that was what you loved most about his features. Eyes that seem to hold the waters—a depiction of nature. Just as he is about to continue, cheers erupt from the central town, you flinch as the others begin to gather to watch the amusement happening. Mizu, sensing your uneasiness, pulls you towards a nearby alley—dark and hidden from the public eye. He places you against the wall, eyes watching for passersby that might lurk in while your eyes are trained on his face.

You watch with admiration as his eyebrows furrow in their usual curl, those eyes that squint into a glare, chapped lips, and the glasses that begin to slowly fall down the bridge of his nose. Unable to resist the urge, you give in.

"Coast is—"

Mizu's eyes widen at the feeling of your lips against his. You cup his cheeks, pulling him down as you encase your arms over his neck. Mizu wastes no time in reciprocating the kiss. He kisses back with the same fervor, hand dropping his Kasa in favor of encasing your waist as he pulls you towards his figure. You whine as you feel his tongue intertwine with yours.

After a few pecks and kisses, you both finally pull away. There's a hushed silence of panting as Mizu places his forehead against yours.

"I am not being truthful," Mizu whispers, breath hitting your lips. "But I want to try. With you."

You smile, hands cupping his cheeks as you rub your thumbs across the surface of his skin.

"I want you as you are," You reassure him. "No matter the flaw, no matter what you tell me. I'll be here with you."

Mizu lowers his head and drops it to burrow against your neck. He hugs you close as bells and instruments begin playing. He pulls back softly before facing you with vulnerability.

"I..." He starts off. "I am not what you think I am."

You tilt your head in confusion as you encase his hands in yours. Your thumbs run over the scar that you've bandaged from before.

"I'm not a... a man." Mizu finally reveals. You pause, eyes blinking as you watch his reaction for any sort of context. Mizu purses his lips before pulling his glasses away, tucking in the side of his clothing before reaching up to pull at his top knot. You watch as his hair—no, her hair flows to her shoulders and then suddenly everything makes sense.

Mizu's breath shakes at your silence. "I-I cannot give you what you want—"

She falls silent as you lean forward to take notice of her features. The flush that adorns her cheeks and the eyes that entranced you from the start. A smile bursts from your lips.

"You're just as I dreamed of," You whisper in awe. Your arms make their way to wrap around her neck as you press yourself close to her. Mizu's face flushes at your words.

Your eyes trace the edges of her features, face contorted in a soft expression. There's a moment of silence before you finally continue. "My father wanted me to have a true love marriage. All my life, the idea of falling in love has always been my dream as a child."

Mizu blinks softly at your words, listening to your every thought.

"And now that I have it, I can understand why my father wanted me to do so," You smile, leaning your forehead against hers. "Marry me, Mizu. I just want to be yours."

The blue-eyed girl erupts into a smile, leaning forward and capturing your lips in hers. You reciprocate with the same intensity, fingers burying in her raven locks. Mizu then pulls away.

"I'll always say yes to you."

"Do we really have to do this?"

Mizu eyes your figure seated on the tatami, eyes peering up at her as she stands in front of you. You giggle at her hesitance.

"Of course!" You grin. "Consummation between man and wife is a must tradition after marriage—well in our case, wife and wife."

Mizu rolls her eyes as she sits down in front of you. She props her knee up and places her arm on top of it. She grabs the cup of tea perched on the small table beside her and takes a sip. "Consummation is done with the idea of children, love. I'm sure you're well aware of that."

You pout before an idea arises in your mind. You lean forward, going on your knees as you crawl towards her. Mizu pauses mid-sip as she watches you with careful eyes. You grab her cup, placing it down on the table as she continues to watch your every move. You settle on her lap, the slit of your kimono revealing your thighs. Mizu's breath shakes.

You take her glasses off and place them on the table before finally focusing on her, arms propped on her shoulders. You feel her hands cup your hips as you stare down at her with a smile.

"What?" You taunt. "You don't wanna fuck me?"

Mizu pauses, eyes widening before she lets out a groan and lowers her head to your clavicle. You giggle as she takes a few moments to calm herself down. Finally, pulling away to face you, Mizu looks at you with her blue eyes clouded with lust.

"You are one dangerous lady, know that?" Mizu leans forward. You grin as you rub your nose against hers.

"Mhm," You say. "My wife told me so."

"Ah fuck! Fuck!" You whimper as you grab the sheets behind you, trying to find some sort of stability from the onslaught of ministrations Mizu's giving you. "W-Wait—Mizu-Wai—Ngh!"

You're afraid that the toy one of your close friends gave you as a congratulations gift to your marriage would be too crass for your night with Mizu. You only brought it to tease her after all. You just didn't expect how much she'd be turned on by it.

"Where are you going?" Mizu's voice is deep and taunting as she watches you claw at the sheets, trying to get away from the intense pleasure. She grabs your waist and pulls you back down towards her, folding your legs to your chest. "You wanted this, why are you backing out, hm? You wanted to consummate so here we are."

She watches as the thick girth and length of her strap pushes in and out—coated with your essence. The noises from it are slick and noisy, causing you to flush in embarrassment. God fucking damn.

"So fucking pretty, aren't ya?" Mizu chuckles as she pushes her hips. She lets out a moan, feeling the other end of the dildo pushing deep with her. You whimper as Mizu presses deep, the tip of her cock bumping against that spot of yours. "So so pretty for me, aren't you momma?"

You shiver at the nickname, hands coming down to grab Mizu's lean arms—its muscle flexing as she speeds up her thrusts, making sure that it's the right spot.

"You've been adamant about this all morning. Especially, after the wedding." Mizu growls, slamming her hips against yours. "You want my kids that bad?"

You're too lost in the pleasure, moans, and garbles of her name only coming out of your mouth. Mizu smiles, hair falling down her shoulders and framing her face as she props herself up on top of you.

"If you want it so bad, I'll give it to you," Mizu leans down to bury her face on your neck, sucking a few marks as she begins to speed up her thrusts.

"Oh! Oh!" You whine as the spot inside of you becomes more sensitive with each bump. Mizu pays no mind to your sounds, reveling in the way your nails rake through her back. She smirks against your skin, licking down until she encases your nipple within her mouth. You moan at the feeling, hands reach up to bury itself in her raven locks.

"I'm close! I-I—please!" You plead as her constant torture of your cunt begins to teeter at the edge. Mizu pants heavily as she places a soft kiss behind your ear.

"I am too." Her breath shakes as her hips falter. It doesn't take long before you climax, body arching and shivering from the intensity of the pleasure. Tears begin streaming down your face as you twitch with each thrust she gives you. She smiles placing a soft kiss on your lips. "Good girl."

Mizu follows shortly behind, coming in grunts and low moans before slumping down against you. There's a moment of reprieve before Mizu props herself up once more to take a look at your afterglow.

You smile up at her, hand coming up to brush her hair over her ear. Mizu leans against your touch.

"I love you." You mumble softly. Mizu gazes into your eyes with a love so true that it warms your very being.

"I love you too."

a/n: mwehheheheheeh hope yall enjoyed that <3 not proofread will do it later mwehe

#arthenaa #mizu #the blue eyed samurai x reader #mizu x reader #mizu smut #Spotify

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five-rivers · 5 months ago

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After months, if not years of missed curfews, failing grades and lies Maddie is done with her son’s behavior and decides to confront him once and for all, waiting in his room since he so rarely uses the door. Imagine her suprise the infamous Danny Phantom, injured and exhausted stumbles through the wall and detransforms into Danny Fenton.

She doesn't turn the light on. She doesn't know how Danny keeps getting past her and Jack, and that is one of things she intends to discover and put a stop to tonight, one way or another.

She'd prefer to talk, but if she has to nail his window shut from the outside, inside, or both, that is what she will do. It isn't safe out there at night. She and Jack did their best, but there are so many ghosts, and they can't do much about the more human dangers.

(The only good thing about this situation is that Danny showed no signs of taking drugs. Or, at least, Maddie hadn't found any of the related paraphernalia in his room.)

Outside the window, the light increased. Maddie frowned. The Fentonworks sign was bright, she knew, but it was also very specific neon colors. This was something paler, whiter, cleaner, and it wasn't bright enough, or coming from the right direction, to be car headlights.

Maddie hadn't brought her weapons with her. She didn't like going around unarmed, but she knew that going to what was almost certainly going to be an emotionally charged argument with a weapon close to hand - even a nonlethal one - wasn't wise. Thinking about herself that way made her nauseated, but no one thought they would do something like that until they did, a fact Maddie was familiar with from unfortunate personal experience.

But she couldn't help but regret this wisdom when the ghost came through the wall. And not just any ghost. Phantom.

She held her breath, trying to stay as still as possible. If she got away before he spotted her, she could activate the defense system, but in the same room, she wouldn't be able to get the words out fast enough.

Phantom hovered over Danny's bed, and for the first time tonight, Maddie was glad that Danny wasn't here. Who knew what Phantom had intended?

Ectoplasm dripped from Phantom's arm and nose, onto Danny's bed. She would have to clean it before he slept on it again. Thoroughly. He'd be annoyed to have to sleep in the guest bedroom, but it was a matter for his health.

Why had Phantom come here when he was this damaged?

Phantom suddenly flared bright, like a camera flash. The room was dark in its wake, and something fell heavily onto Danny's bed.

She blinked the light out of her eyes, furious and terrified. Was this the precursor to an attack? Did he know she was here?

When her eyes adapted again, she saw...

Danny.

Danny, in his pajamas, with the same injuries Phantom had.

Maddie watched and waited while Danny turned over, cocooning himself in his sheets. She would like to say that her hesitance was born from an abundance of caution, but really, she was too stunned to act.

But, finally, what felt like hours later, she walked over to Danny's bed. His chest was rising and falling, slow but steady. She put her hand on his shoulder and felt its warmth.

Her hand, slowly, moved to his throat. There was a pulse, there.

He was alive. Her son was alive.

She just--

She took a step back, away, back to the door, which she opened as quietly as possible.

She needed to understand what was happening, first, what she had seen. Then, she could start to figure out how to fix it.

#danny phantom #prompt #prompt work #prompt fill #ask #answer

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laurorne · 5 months ago

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Hi, can u write Daemon Targaryen x reader where she’s daemon second wife. He married her on the Valyrian way so Viserys had to acknowledge their marriage. Rhea Royce came to the capital because even hating daemon he’s her husband and humiliated her. A meeting between daemon and his wives ahahah

༊*·˚ WITH EACH LOVE YOU CUT LOOSE | daemon targaryen x niece!reader

summary: beheading is the only punishment fit for uncouth behaviour directed at the wife of daemon targaryen.

content: targaryen typical incest (uncle x niece), blood, mutual infliction of wounds, cheating on daemon's behalf, fluff, daemon is a softy, reader is catty towards rhea but feels sorry, possibly innacurate valyrian wedding?, murder!! no beta i'm so sorry

word count: 3.1k

a/n: tadaaa! sorry it took so long hun, i've been flat out with exams but i honestly loved this concept. i wasn't sure about the relationship dynamic you wanted so i assumed you meant for reader to be viserys' daughter, i hope you enjoy tho!!

The cold steel meets your lip in kind, Daemon's pointer and thumb pinching your chin in place so you don't slip from his grasp as he drags it across the soft flesh. Your nose scrunches for not even a second before you're pushing the pain back down. Your eyes meeting those of the man before you as he stares so lovingly at you, your heart hurts in its cage. Your pulse is wild and skittering as you take a deep breath.

His brow pinches slightly as a smile plays on his lips, something akin to hope and possibly admiration settling in those lilac iris'. Oh, ever-sweet Daemon, back from war and he's already offering his mind, body and soul to you in their entirety. It seems being back home, after the Stepstones had lifted a weight that'd been on his shoulders since he was sent away by his brother, your father.

His hair is fluttering along with the night breeze that cocoons Dragonstone on its spring eves. The scent of the lit candles invades your nose as you allow the wind to pull the curtain of your hair along its path.

A droplet of blood begins beading on the curve of your lip, Daemon traces his rough fingers down the edges of it, coaxing more blood to rush from the slit as he blows air onto it, perhaps comforting or enjoying the way your lashes flutter as he does so.

He seems to think the blood enough, as he swipes the pad of his thumb over the beads of blood that bloomed from the cut and he marks the Valyrian rune -fire- upon your forehead. The hand with the knife of dragon-glass upon your outstretched palm, willing you with the dip of his head to do the same he had just done.

Your hand isn't as steady as you bring it to grace upon his lip -you're far too flustered, after all these years of praying to whatever higher power would listen for him to come back to you safely. Utter infatuation and eagerness on your behalf made your cut slightly off but the dragon-glass was sharp and ensured a clean cut that allowed hot blood to pool on the bow of his lower lip nearly immediately.

Another breeze seems to coax you forward as you brush your own thumb along the trail of blood that began oozing its way towards his chin. He tilts himself forward so you can reach him with ease, his hair gathering around his face as it shields you both from the onlooking eyes of the maester and your witnesses. His eyes ever delicate as they trace the way a ringlet of hair dances along your cheek. You catch the droplet of red before it can begin its descent and mark his forehead with 'blood'.

A lingering emotion rolls over his face as your heart skitters to keep up with what's happening, not even a moon ago had he sent a letter pleading for you to greet him on Dragonstone before he returned and here you were, willing to wed this man without so much as a thought about the consequences or the rage your father would berate you with upon your return to Kings Landing. A part of your mind whispering that it was worth it, that you deserved to be loved by a man who didn't only want you for a birth claim of dragons or those pale Valyrian features of snow white hair.

Daemon's hand clasps over your smaller one as he brings the dark edge to the open planes of his palm, pushing down onto it as he guides you through the ceremony with little care of the proper way to do this.

He's waited far too long for this, and he cannot bear another second of not being able to have you as his. His flame, his soon to be wife.

He eases the blade from your fingers as he brings it down upon your own palm, it makes your breath come in shallow bursts at how oh-sp close you are to kissing him. To having him by your side, on the plush bed in the royal apartments of Dragonstone, as your husband and twin soul. Blood of the dragon mingling, like how it was supposed too.

Your tongue rolls over your top lip, licking away the coppery liquid that begins smearing across the entirety of your mouth as part your lips and watch him so delicately hold your wrist and split the warm skin in the cradle of your hand. His thumb brushes across the pulse point of your wrist as he presses your bloody, weeping hands together.

Not even the maester speaking can pull your eyes away from the deep lilac of Daemon's gaze, his pupils are dilated, round and dark as he stares into your own. You can nearly see the way he thinks, can feel what he does with the way he tightens his grasp on your hand.

"Hen lantoti ānogar." Blood of two.

The maesters cold hands brush across both of yours as he begins wrapping the reddened silk around the only point you and Daemon are touching as thick blood mixes and drips to the cup he holds beneath.

"Va sȳndroti vāedroma," Joined as one.

Your shoulders rise and fall as you breath in the salty brine of the ocean, but you cannot escape the man you love dearly as you catch a huff of him. Heady and warm and everything you crave.

"Mēro perzot gīhoti." Ghostly flame

He pushes the cup into your hand and your stomach churns as you bring it to your lips, the intricate headpiece you wear making your neck tilt as you stare deeply into his eyes over the rim as you drain half the cup, licking your lips as the rich blood smothers out anything else you could possibly feel.

Elēdroma iārza sīr. And song of shadows.

He looks down so proudly as you lick the crimson away from your teeth, tongue peeking out for a split second as you capture a stray droplet at the corner of your lip. He had preached when you were but a young girl, that dragons weren't afraid of blood, and you'd be damned by the gods now if you didn't live up to that.

Izulī ampā perzī. Two hearts as embers.

You bring the goblet away from the seam of your lips as you offer it to him between your bodies.

Pūmī lanti sēteksi. Forged in fourteen fires.

He glances down at it with a straight face before looking back up to you, hand wrapping around yours as he moves to take the cup. Warmth spreads from the contact as your lids flutter.

Hen jenȳ māzīlarion. A future promised in glass.

Daemon drags the cup to his lips with a look that burns you down to the core like one of the wicks that struggle against the winds, he lights a fire in the pit of your stomach that you're sure won't be extinguished for years to come. He stares you down, the cup idly held between you as you grasp his hand just the bit harder, eager. He downs what you couldn't in a mouthful, holding eye contact as his adams apple bobs with the swallow.

Qēlossa ozūndesi. The stars stand witness.

He shoves the cup in the maester direction, and the old frail man takes the cup with a trembling hand.

Sȳndroro ōñō jēdo. The vows spoken through time.

Rȳ kīvia mazvestraksi. Of darkness and light.

He cards a hand through the strands of loose hair, tucking it behind your ear as his eyes skate across every feature and dip and slope of your face. Years apart had not changed the way he watched you, the way he took in everything about you without so much as a thought about what he would gain from marrying you, aside from your presence as his wife.

Your heart beats wildly against the cage of your ribs as you place a hand on his cheek, stroking the skin there as you lean up to him, lashes fluttering in anticipation.

His hand cradles your neck as he drags you the rest of the way in, eyes closed as his lips press against yours. Blood is smeared between you both, the cuts weeping anew with the ferocity and want that he kisses you with. Your breath is stolen from you as he bites at your lip, breathing your air as he all but devours you.

Your arrival to Kings Landing after three months of hiding upon Dragonstone with your insatiable, newly wed husband had been rather... quiet. There had not been an entourage of royal maids or knights or even the High Council. It was simply Otto Hightower, accompanied by your fiery younger sister in her riding gear who looked less than pleased as you dismounted your darling dragon alongside Daemon and Caraxes. The Hand to the King had simply said that your grandsire was waiting patiently in Maegors Holdfast, and that, should you say anything, ensure it is an apology.

It was eerily silent as Viserys sat across from you in his chambers, deep within his cups as he regarded you with what you could only consider contempt. Your sister had been no less the same, you had married the man she was pining after, afterall. But you had no qualms about the dissatisfaction of your father or sister, it was your choice, and your life. You'd left your grandsire's chambers in a flurry of fabric as he had regarded you as a child throwing a tantrum, and that you would soon realize that you would come to regret this.

Afterall, Daemon was still married to the lady Rhea Royce in Runestone and that he wouldn't be willing to annul the marriage.

You think that perhaps Daemon had spoken to your father -his brother- because no less than a moon later King Viserys had sent out letters to invite the lords to a tournament in the honour of his eldest daughters marriage. 'To officially announce this bountiful marriage', as Viserys had put it.

So here you were, four moons after your marriage to Daemon, being regarded by your husband as you sat at the vanity in nothing but a shift.

"I feel that today won't be held together well." You allow your eyes to drift from the task of brushing your hair, Daemon is sat against the bed in his attire for today. Dark fabrics that fit him well, staying in Kings Landing for the past month had perhaps tamed him. Or maybe he was laying in wait for the moment he could prove his brother right about his marriage.

"Perhaps. Though I trust you will remain civil." You all but say back, fingers weaving through loose strands as you pull it into a long plait.

"If any lords are to look at you with so much as a lewd face, I may have to pull Dark Sister from their chests."

You hum, hand drifting to your swollen stomach automatically as one of your handmaids steps in to tie the braid off, her fingers not as gentle on your snow white hair as Daemon's were.

"Oh how you make me swoon, husband."

He huffs a breath as he stands from the softness of your bed, hand sitting upon the pommel of his sword. He wanders toward your seated form as he presses a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, hand smoothing over your bare shoulder as it moves past your breast and to your bump. Thumb stroking circles on the fabric above it as he presses a final kiss to your temple.

"I'll let your maids dress you today, send for me when you're ready to join the festivities."

You lean up to plant a final kiss to the corner of his lips before you allow his hand to fall away. His scent stays with you for a moment and so does his warmth, before he pulls away fully. Leaving the room in careful strides as the maids swarm you nearly immediately.

Being apart of the Royal family meant that you had the responsibility of greeting every longwinded lord who walked into the Great Hall, with a gentle smile and a soft greeting and a monotonous non-heartfelt 'thank you for making the journey for today'.

It's as if the King knew that you hated such things, that you loathed the frequent meetings of the High Council and the repetitive greetings. The only thing that got you through such affairs was the soothing presence of Daemon at your side, his occasional mocking words and dubious glances when a lord with eyes to big for his cock made a compliment to close to inappropriate.

Dinner had been served long ago, the rich oily meats sat across the tables made your stomach churn and the berry juices in your cup seem less than appetizing. So you opted for something savory, the lemon cakes and loaves of bread and soup.

Midway through a bite of a warm lemoncake, there was a voice you hadn't heard tonight, someone that had Daemon leaning further back in his chair as he took a deep swill of his goblet, a taunting look on his face as he glared the woman who stepped towards the table that sat before the Iron Throne with the entire Royal family.

"Thank you for inviting me to the events, my King." Her short brown curls were tied back as best as could be managed, she was dressed up in bronzy fabrics that rippled in the light of the braziers that lined the walls. She was... beautiful. Roynish in her appearance and the hardness of her features, a Northern Beauty for lack of better words.

Your Grandsire grinned widely as he greeted her back, "I was afraid you wouldn't be able to make it Lady Royce, I trust you found your travel to Kings Landing well?"

Oh. So this was the Rhea Royce? The... Bronze Bitch? As Daemon had so lightly put it in all his letters.

"It was a long ride, your grace. But worth it to join the festivities. And to see... my husband after so long apart."

The glare that's thrown towards your left is surely meant for Daemon. This situation was becoming more hilarious the longer you waited for her to greet him, and you by proxy. Oh, you had to greet her first.

"Lady Royce." You smile saccharinely, lips pulling back as you rise to greet her from across the table, hand evidently on your growing bump as you bow your head. "I've heard much of your conquests in the Vale. Tell me, how did you deal with those savages from the forests?"

You can see the tick in her jaw as she bows towards you, forced too by your position on the hierarchy and the keen eyes of the other guests here tonight.

"With a steady hand and decisive mind, princess."

You laugh, a true sort of thing as you look back to your husband, he huffs out a breath at that. He knows what you're doing, and he's keen on helping play this falsity of niceties.

"Husband," Rhea says suddenly, it's harsh and possessive as she watches you hold your husbands hand. "It has been a long few years, has it not? I missed your letters so."

She looks like a scorned wife -she is, but she cannot act upon it in the presence of her King, your father. Your smile falters as your fingers tighten around Daemon's scarred ones.

"Husband? You're not married anymore." You withhold any of the ill will you feel for her as her lip curls.

"Oh, my princess. But we are. The King hasn't annulled Prince Daemon and I's marriage. He is rightfully wed to me."

The hand you had on Daemon is swiftly pulled from his grasp, the hand you had on your stomach is twitching as you glare her down, you stand taller than her both figuratively and literally.

"Lady Royce, I would be mindful of your tone. Speaking to the Crown Princess with such speech could find your lands without a Lord." You all but laugh, you can feel the mirth that Daemon holds for her and it only doubles your hatred for this insolent petulant woman.

"I only speak the truth, princess."

"Was there not a rumour that your marriage was not consummated?"

Your grandsire snaps into action at that, a bit off call of your name as you bristle at his intrusion on your conversation. "Father. It's true is it not? There was never proof that Daemon bedded her, her womb is barren and I find that mine is not the same. Would you call me a liar and fraud when she couldn't even produce an heir?"

"You have embarrassed me! I've been dishonoured and cast aside after how many years or marriage? My own husband will not speak while his mistress dares to speak on his behalf. What have you to say, husband?"

You stand with a hand over your stomach and a lip curled up in disgust at the woman stood before you with a flushed face. If this is how your father thought he would turn you against Daemon, he was deftly wrong as he often is.

"You dishonour my wife by simply being here, Rhea." Oh and how the brown haired woman seems to crumble at that. Daemon had always been a man of few words, but he made each one count all the same.

“I dishonour your wife? She is nothing but a platinum haired husband stealing whore!”

The Bronze Bitch all but snarls and picks up a plate of tarts to throw in your direction but Daemon is swift in his movements. Standing before you and taking the metal dish to his chest without thought.

The plate clatters onto the stone floor with such a loud reverberation that Rhea seems to snap out of her rage as she realises that she had indeed just insulted a royal family member, and that she may not leave this Great Hall with her life.

There's a telltale sign as a sword is unsheathed and the whoosh of a blade through air. And then deathly silence as the entire hall settles into silence, as the body of the woman steps once backwards before it crumples and her neck hinges, a spray of blood decorating the table before you as Rhea Royce becomes but a corpse for the Silent Sisters to prepare for burial.

Grandsire stands from his chair in a swift move, shouting at Daemon for such insolence and killing a guest of the King.

Daemon ignores his brother in favour of wiping the blood from Dark Sister and stares out at the full hall. "Insult to the Crown Princess is punishable by death, you will all do well to remember it as such."

Rhaenyra is tensed in her seat and your father yells at him, something pertaining to another banishment and you are left to stand in awe of the gruesome acts your uncle is willing to commit in your honour.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x fem!reader #daemon targaryen x you #targaryen incest #targaryen!reader #daemon is a baddie #trust guys #daemon targaryen x niece!reader #possibly innacurate valyrian wedding

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plussizefantasia · 6 months ago

Text

Don't Cry Over Spilled Lemonade

Anthony Bridgerton x f!reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: None that I can think of, this is kinda angsty tho

A/N: Surprise post IG I wrote this in my notes app because I couldn't sleep so if there are spelling or grammar issues I'm sorry. let me know if you want a part two because I wouldn't mind continuing this.

Anthony adored how close you were to his siblings. You had become a close family friend ever since you defended Daphne against some creep at her first-ever ball out in society, it was your second season and you had taken it upon yourself to keep an eye on the diamond, looking out for her quietly in the background.

You weren’t going to intervene at all, just offer her some advice woman to woman if the need arose but when you saw Baron Taylor grab the redhead by the wrist you couldn’t hold back.

Anthony himself was only seconds away from coming to his sister's aid when you ‘accidently’ tripped into the man spilling your glass of lemonade down the front of his vest.

“Perhaps my Lord if we kept our hands to ourselves certain… interventions might’ve not had to happen. Don’t you think?” When Anthony had seen your raised eyebrow and defensive posture all aimed at the scumbag who dared lay a hand on his baby sister he couldn’t help but fall a little bit in love right then and there. Not that he’d ever admit it to himself or anyone else for that matter.

A day later Daphne had invited you to tea at their family house in order to thank you for the rescue and potentially make a new friend and ally within the marriage mart.

Ever since that day, you’d been a regular in his home, but you were never there for him as much as he’d have liked you to be. No, you were always there for one of his siblings. You were there to talk with Daphne, first about her counting of the duke and then slowly transitioning into how she felt about being a married woman and then a mother. He could also find you sketching in silence next to Benedict, the two of you after attending to draw the same scene and then critiquing each other's work when you were done. You would trade books and ideas with Eloise, listen to Fran play the piano while working on your embroidery, and the scenes which would warm his heart the most, you’d come around to chase after Greg and Hyancith playing with them in the gardens and keeping a watchful eye to make sure they stayed safe.

Anthony adored how close you were to his siblings, and he loathed how much of a distance there seemed to be between the two of you.

You were cold to the Viscount, you had been since the evening you came to Daphne’s rescue, he had attempted to give you his thanks and you had simply excused yourself, “My apologies my Lord but I seem to be down a glass of lemonade presently and I find myself to be quite parched, excuse me.” Your tone was cold and Anthony spent the rest of that night and the next two years trying to figure out what he possibly couldn’t done to make you so icy towards him.

“I do not understand it Ben, she is so kind and lovely to the rest of you but is like a stone wall when it comes to me, what could I be missing?”

“Perhaps she just doesn’t like you brother have you ever thought of that?” Benedict was too preoccupied with this still life to deal with his older brothers pining at the moment.

“That is not possible, I’ve done nothing but be the perfect gentleman to her.”

“Anthony I have no idea why dear Y/N does not like you but what exactly will you whining in my studio do about that?”

“I resent that. I am not whining I am simply asking my dearest brother for his advice on a matter I care very much about. I thought that was what brothers were for.”

“You want my advice, Anthony? Think. Think long and hard about what you want and how you’ll get it because Y/N has no patience for wishy-washy men.”

“That is horrible advice, Ben.”

“When then perhaps you can find better advice from your other brothers. Which will it be Anthony, the one who has been blindly in love with his best friend for years, or the ten-year-old?”

“I hate it when you’re right.”

“I know. Now leave, that storm cloud above your head is casting shadows on my fruit.” Ben pointed his paintbrush at the bowl of fruit balanced atop a stool. Anthony huffed and knowing that it would bother his brother, he grabbed the apple off the top of the pile and took a bite of it as he strode out of the room

Ben had told him to think, but Anthony didn’t know what to think about. He knew that he craved your attention. He knew that he enjoyed seeing you around his house, interacting with the people whom he loves. He enjoyed hearing your witty comebacks and the way that even if you were not doing anything in particular you still fill the space you’re in.

He wanted her in his life, and if he was being completely honest with himself he wanted more than that.

It’s during his musing that he runs into her in the hallway, you have a book clutched within your hand, and your head is held high. You don’t stop your stride even though he knows that you saw him. He bites his lip and tampers down a smirk. Add another thing to that list of things he likes about you, you have fire, he just wished that it wasn’t always aimed at him.

“Lady, L/N which one of my dear siblings are you spending your day with today?” He attempts to match his pace with yours catching up to you so that the two of you walk shoulder and shoulder.

“Actually, Lord Bridgerton, I was having tea with your mother this afternoon she invited me over so we could discuss what to do about Frannie’s debut next season.”

This was not something that normal family friends do, you know that and he knows that. His sibling’s entrances into society are a matter which the viscountess must handle, something his mother has had to continue to do because of his lack of a wife.

“That was very kind of you to help her with.”

“Well, she doesn’t have anyone else to help her.” Your words cut him down, not for the first time.

“Lady L/N may I be frank?”

“It is your home, you may do as you please.” You turn to face him, your face a mask of indifference.

“What have I done to cross you, for the longest time I have known you you have been cold to me and I do not understand why?”

“I had figured that you did not remember, either that or you had purposely forgone trying to speak with me about it.”

“About what?”

“Our first meeting My Lord.”

“I remember our first meeting very clearly, it is one of my fondest memories seeing you stand up for Daphne and ruin Lord Taylor’s vest.” He tilts his head to the side and smiles at the memory.

“That was not the first time we met My Lord, the first time we met you snubbed me in front of the entire ton and sparked rumors that did not leave me until two seasons later.” She was harsh in her words and the tightness in her shoulder’s belayed her desire to flee.

Anthony was speechless, surely he had not? He would’ve remembered her, would’ve remembered turning down one of the most beautiful women he had ever met, intentionally or otherwise.

“I- I beg your deepest forgiveness Y/N I do not remember and if I had I would’ve tried to make it up to you tenfold by now.”

Your eyes began to gloss over and you looked at the wall beside his head, “It was my first season out, Lady Danbury’s ball, and I had seen you standing there surrounded by other gentleman. I had thought you a very fine figure and despite the rumor mill telling me you were nothing but a rake I had tried to begin a conversation. All you did was turn to me and laugh. I wasn’t asked to dance for the entire rest of that season and it was only until my Mother forced the son of one of her garden party friends to dance with me was that streak broken. You were the first and only man I had ever attempted to pursue and you laughed in my face. Were it not for my deep need to help those I see in need I would never have talked to you or any member of the Bridgerton family for the rest of my life.”

“You must know that I regret that, I regret everything I have ever done to hurt you and I will spend the rest of my days working for your forgiveness.” If Anthony was a weaker man he would’ve fallen to his knees and begged for your forgiveness until his last breath, right there in the hallways of his family’s home.

“I appreciate your words Anthony, but that’s all they are… words. I am unmarried, one year from becoming a spinster in the eyes of the entire ton, and you, you are the only one I can blame.” You don’t wait for his reply, just stalking off and wiping the tears from your eyes.

Anthony resolved himself in that moment. He would do whatever it took to make it up to you, to bring a smile to your face, and to cast away the hurt he had caused.

Part 2

#anthony bridgerton x plus size reader #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #x reader #fanfic #bridgerton fanfiction #plus size reader #plus size!reader #drabble #requests open #requests wanted #bridgerton

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