#the people on top only care about two things

[ceilidho]

Buttermilk

It doesn't take long to settle into the rhythm of your new summer job. Or: the babysitter x single dad au

Part 3 | masterlist

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It’s not unusual for someone to mistake you for the baby’s mama.

How could someone not, at least for a moment? When you take the baby to the grocery store, older people gush over him babbling in his stroller, eager to shower him with compliments in baby-talk or tell you how much you resemble the little tyke. After hearing the same comment for the umpteenth time, you tire of correcting people by saying you’re the babysitter only to watch their face fall, somewhat mortified and feeling as though their comment should’ve been directed to the baby’s actual mother. Which isn’t you. 

It’s less typical for someone to mistake you for John’s wife, though that does happen from time to time.

You’ve become a fixture around the neighbourhood since John hired you at the beginning of the summer, and over the weeks, the other nannies and the stay-at-home moms have started to gradually warm up to you. Before long, you’re being invited on coffee runs and playdates with some of the other women, always careful to ask for John’s permission before bringing his baby into a stranger’s house.

“Just text me the address and their names,” he requests while you stand awkwardly in front of him, John sitting on the bed to finish buttoning up his shirt and fixing his watch around his wrist. You would’ve been fine standing on the other side of the door while he finished changing, but he insisted on inviting you in.

“I will,” you promise, nodding along with his words.

“And call me if you don’t feel comfortable. I’ll come get the two of you right away if you need me.”

You swallow. Nod again.

The first time you take the baby for a playdate with a couple of the moms from the park, one catches you in the act of texting John the address of the house as he requested. “Hubby wants to know where you are, huh?”

“Oh,” you choke out, face heating up. “He’s not—”

“Not a control freak, I know. They’re all like that.” Her smile is ebullient, rolling her eyes like you’re in on a joke together when you most assuredly are not. “Why don’t you share your location with him? Mine’s the same way. Here—I’ll show you how.”

She takes your phone and tap-taps something and suddenly you see it in the notifications of your conversation with John. If you bite your lip instead of correcting her assumption about the nature of your and John’s relationship, that’s for you and you alone to know. Your rationale is that any explanation will just make things tense; it’s not like you haven’t seen it happen before. 

It’s far more concerning when John doesn’t correct those assumptions. Particularly when you’re standing right next to him. 

Like at the local water park on a particularly hot weekend, wading in the kiddy pool with the baby nestled tight against your chest in his little swim trunks and floppy hat only for an employee to ask John if his wife would like something to drink. 

“Iced coffee, love?” John asks, taking your stupefied silence as a yes. “Nothing for me, mate. Cheers.” 

Your head spins like a top on that thought until a good while later. The server hands you a glass of iced coffee with condensation already dripping down the sides and John thanks him for you, taking the baby from you and pulling you to his side. You drink your coffee quietly with your thigh flush with his under the water, gripping the glass harder when his free hand squeezes around your waist, laughing at something another parent said to him.

It’s so over for you. There’s no coming back from this. 

The sight of someone of John’s size, a bulky, military man with arms of pure steel dusted with dark hairs, cradling a tiny, chubby baby with a thatch of similar dark hair on his head and big cheeks and roly poly arms unlocks something primal in you. An old, buried need. 

In the family changing room, you stand under an ice cold shower until it breaks the fever slowly consuming you. All you can do is hope it takes. 

In the evening, you sit out on the porch with John at the back of the house until the crickets swell with song, the moon a half-crescent in the sky. A cool breeze makes your shoulders lift a little, huddling into your body to keep warm. 

It’s hard to keep your eyes on the view in front of you and off the man sitting beside you when they want so badly to be running over him. He’s changed out of his work clothes into a soft pair of sweatpants and an old threadbare shirt, the sage green fabric faded after years of being run through the washing machine. It clings to his biceps and the soft pudge of his stomach, a layer of fat over the hard muscle beneath. 

A cigarette dangles from his fingers, thick wrist perched on the arm of the adirondack chair. Every so often he lifts it to his lips for a puff, always breathing out in the opposite direction from you. Considerate of your health, at least, if not his own. 

“Cold, sweetheart?” he asks before ashing his cigarette, and your bottom lip purses when you turn your head to look at him because you thought you were doing a good job suppressing your shivers. 

You stare at him, confused. He cocks an eyebrow at your questioning stare and deliberately glances down, waiting until you notice the way your nipples are protruding through your white tank top. You forgot that you’d taken your bra off earlier for a bit of relief and hadn’t yet had a chance to put it back on. 

“Oh my god,” you squeak, crossing your arms to hide as much as possible, humiliation flooding through you. “I’m so sorry—that’s so—I-I’m so sorry.”

John makes a rough sound when he rises to his feet, knees cracking as he does. “S’alright, hun. Lemme get you something to put on.”

The screen door creaks when he goes back inside briefly to fetch something only to come back a few seconds later with a big, cotton sweater that reeks of him. It looks well loved, some remnant of his younger years, and even from a distance, you can smell the distinct smoky aroma clinging to the fabric. 

When he kneels in front of you, you nearly go cross-eyed at the realisation that even on his knees, he’s as tall as you. The bulk of his waist forces your legs to spread around him. 

“C’mon, arms up,” John commands, barely waiting until you’ve raised your arms above your head before helping guide your head and arms into the right holes. 

Dragging the sweater down the way he does forces it to rub over your nipples, sending a shock through you. If you had any less self-control, your teeth might actually chatter together. 

“There we go,” he says, fluffing out the sweater around your waist before resting his hands on the tops of your thighs, the gesture coming so naturally to him that you doubt he’s even noticed the placement of his hands. “Much better. That’ll warm you up.”

He isn't wrong. You’ve already worked up a sweat. 

Late night rain.

It comes down in buckets, a dark slate rapping hard against the window pane. A bolt of lightning flickers across the horizon off in the distance. White striations across an otherwise dark sky. About thirty seconds later, thunder rumbles. 

You peek from between the blinds, chewing your lip nervously. You’ve never driven in rain this bad, but with supper done and the dishes washed, there’s no excuse for you to stay any longer. Still, the rain comes down so heavily that despite your timidity, you briefly contemplate asking John if you can stay a little longer. At least until it lets up a bit; until your headlights won’t blind you reflecting off the puddles on the drive home. 

Someone else pulls the blinds further apart.

“There’s no way in hell you’re going out in that,” John says from behind you, practically growling his words. Daring you to contradict him. 

You glance over your shoulder to find him right there at your back, staring out the window. He’s so close that you can smell the red sauce on his flannel from dinner and make out the flecks of grey in his beard that are almost masked by the darker hairs. 

“It’s not…that bad…”

“Sweetheart, don’t piss me off,” he warns.

The blinds shuttle back together with a clatter when you finally let go of them. 

“I could—I could take the couch,” you offer. 

“Sweetheart,” John sighs, looking down at you meaningfully.

“What?” you ask, confused.

“I’m not gonna take the big, comfy bed and leave you with the couch.” When you open your mouth to protest, he cuts you off. “And don’t even try arguing. I won’t hear it.”

There’s not much you can say to dissuade him after that. The furrow of his brow lets you know he’s made up his mind; no ifs, ands, or buts. Besides, there’s a not-so-secret part of you that’s relieved that you don’t have to drive home in this weather. You’re an average driver on a good day. You don’t need your last moments before shuffling off this mortal coil to involve hydroplaning on the highway before ramming into the guardrail. 

John gives you a shirt of his to change into for after your shower, which you spend far too long in, scrubbing your body with his shower gel and quivering under the warm water. When you pull it on, you bring the collar up to your nose to smell. The same patent smoky scent, musky like ambergris and leather. Intoxicating. It makes the blood rush through your ear like a conch shell, the ocean swirling behind your eardrum. 

You hadn’t asked for underwear, content at first to keep on the same pair, but after your shower, you cringe at the thought of putting your day-old panties back on. Besides, his shirt is long enough to cover anything indecent. 

He sits on the edge of the bed when you come out, the concern on his brow melting away at the sight of you. 

“Practically a dress on you, isn’t it?” John says, voice a little wondrous. His eyes drag over you, tip to toe. 

You fiddle with the ends of it. “…Are you sure you want me to take the bed?” 

“Wouldn’t be fair. It’s yours for the night.” His lips quirk up at the corners when you frown. “Don’t worry about me—I’ve slept in worse places before.”

“Like where?” you ask dubiously.

“Tents. Abandoned buildings. Shacks. In the back of a moving van a few times. You wouldn’t believe half the places we used to make camp. Definitely no place for pretty girls like you.”

His condescending tone vaguely annoys you, but it’s hard to dig into your irritation when he thumbs the edge of the shirt you’re wearing and you realise that he’s just a few raised inches away from noticing that you don’t have any panties on. You should’ve just put your old ones back on, but it’s far too late now. 

You clear your throat instead. “We could…um…we could share.” 

You don’t know what possesses you to offer to share the bed, but the words are already gone, out of your mouth and in the air. John cocks an eyebrow.

“Unless you don’t want to,” you amend. 

“Don’t know about that, sweetheart,” he rasps. “…I snore like a bear.”

“That’s okay. I’m a pretty deep sleeper.”

John scrutinises you a bit longer, looking for any sign of hesitancy. You know he’d squash your offer in a second if he found any wariness in your gaze. 

“Alright,” he finally concedes, letting go of your shirt and slapping his thighs. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you when you wake up and can’t fall back asleep because of my snoring.”

After his shower, during which you lie on your side facing away from the bathroom door, stomach fraught with nerves as you consider the fact that he’s naked in the ensuite, you hear him come out and rummage around in the dresser for a change of clothes. You lie beside him with your stomach twisted in knots, your hands shoved under the pillow and staring resolutely at the wall. 

The appropriateness of sleeping in the same bed beside your boss isn't lost on you, but you're too far into this now.

The bed dips when he settles onto the other side, and the sudden absence of light when he switches the bedside lamp off nearly makes you cheep. 

He breathes heavily, you notice, particularly when he finally falls asleep. It’s a deep, rumbling sound—not entirely unlike a bear, though you can’t really confirm that for certain seeing as how you’ve never slept beside a bear before. 

Those are the thoughts that would signal the approach of sleep if you weren’t soon to be engulfed by it. 

Sometime in the middle of the night, you wake up to a rough hand stroking your back leisurely. There’s a hard chest under you, your cheek propped up on a pillowy pec that rises and falls with his breaths. Sleep bobs around in you like a toulouse decanter. You struggle to keep an eye open, certain that there’s something you need to tend to, but then his hand slides down your back again to curve over your rump and sleep drags you back down. 

You wake up again to your breath wafting back into your mouth, your face shoved into the crook of a man’s neck. Humid, hot. You’re lipping at the skin of his neck, little tongue darting out to lap up a bead of sweat, salty on your tongue. 

Your cunt pulses against his leg, toes curling when John drags his hand up your thigh and hitches it higher up around his waist. 

“Baby?” he groans, his voice still rusty from sleep. The sound is a rough burr up your spine. 

“Sorry,” you whisper. “Couldn’ get comfy.”

“You hot?” he asks.

The denial on the tip of your tongue slips back down your throat when he plants his foot on the bed and draws his leg up, pressing the meat of his thigh into your throbbing sex. 

“Here, lemme help you—” he groans, reaching down to ruck up your shirt, dragging it up over your breasts and helping manoeuvre your arms out of the holes. It gets tossed off the bed onto the floor. 

Now your breasts are flat on his chest, smushed against his ribcage. It registers somewhere in the back of your head as inappropriate, but sleep pushes that thought away, focusing instead on the discomfort of moving around when you just want to settle back down and go back to bed. 

It must be the heat making you act this way. 

“Shit—sorry, sweetheart,” he apologizes, shifting under you. “M’hot too.”

He plants a hand on your ass and heaves you up his chest, giving him enough room to wiggle out of his boxers. It pushes your breasts right into his face, your nipples mere inches from his mouth. When his tongue pokes out to wet his upper lip, it nicks your pebbled nipple. 

A hard length presses against your butt when you’re slid back down, the tip wet when it catches against your skin. 

“Jus’ ignore it, sweetie,” John mumbles, petting a hand down your back. 

You lie like that for a while, splayed over his body. Want simmering just under your skin. Flustered and exhausted all at once, sleep-drained; not a drop of strength in your muscles. 

The heat is just—

Scorching. Dizzying. You feel featherbrained, slipping in and out of sleep, biting off the whimpers that threaten to crawl up your throat when John tucks his hands into the crevice of your thighs to wrench them apart, spreading them around his hips again. 

Distantly, you remember that the man under you is at least twenty years your senior. Your employer at that. A man now palming your butt, sinking his fingers into the flesh and rumbling low in his throat. 

It’s wrong—flagrantly wrong. You know that you should say something, that you should get up and tell him that you’re going to sleep on the couch instead. But your tongue is too thick for your mouth. And your thoughts are a sticky paste. The pulse between your thighs empties out all the common sense from your head. 

His palms are slick on your skin. 

Your breathing grows shallow when a hard length suddenly pushes between your thighs as well. 

When the mushroomed head nudges at your opening, you flinch, heart thumping ferociously against your chest. 

“John—John—” you breathe, panicked. As if to warn him. As if he weren’t planting both feet on the bed and lifting his hips. 

As if it wasn’t his hands, warm on your waist, dragging you down onto the shaft spearing into you. 

Your blood is molten hot in your veins. Sticky hands and sticky fingers curl into his chest hair. Your head thumps against his pecs, too weak to hold it up, lipping at the damp skin of his chest. 

“It hurts—” you bleat, tears pricking at the backs of your eyes. 

“I know, baby, I know,” John pants. He draws his hips back just to press forward again, deeper this time. Filling you up more than before. “I’m sorry, baby—I can’t, it’s just…too good. Shit.”

Resolve in tatters. Shattered like his willpower, like his determination not to fuck the girl twenty years his junior sleeping beside him in his bed. 

His hips pump up into yours, bouncing you in his lap. Each thrust plunging his cock deeper into your pussy. It’d be painful if you weren’t so wet, but you’re dripping, arousal making you leak around his shaft and slickening his way. 

Sleep still rattles around in your brain, but not even the fog of sleep can shake the ever intensifying realisation that you’re fucking your boss. No two ways around it—breasts naked against his hirsute chest; pussy wet and stuffed to the hilt with a big dick. Knocked senseless by it. 

The veins of his cock drag over the viscid walls of your cunt with every thrust. He must like the involuntary noises you make because he loses his rhythm when you cry out, growling out a string of unintelligible curses. His body feels bigger like this somehow, biceps and forearms bulging where they’re wrapped around your waist, hips forcing your legs to spread wide around him, the ache sinking deep into your muscle, into your bones.  

When you look up at him, his eyes are more hooded than usual, the blue of his irises so dark that they’re almost black. 

“Such a good girl,” he grunts, big arms like steel bands around your waist, holding you tight to his chest so you have nowhere to run. “Jus’ let…jus’ let daddy come and—oh Christ, fuck, fuck…—jus’ lemme come and we’ll go back to bed, okay, sweetie?”

“I’m gonna…” you pant, trailing off when he gets a little rough, pumping harder up into you. The sound of your pussy squelching around his length makes your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open. 

“Yeah, yeah, you—you come too, baby. Jus’ need to take the edge off, both of us.”

You squeal when he reaches a hand down to dig his fingers into your butt cheek and it makes you tense up, walls tightening around his dick. One well-placed swat hard enough to make the flesh of your ass jiggle and you come, clenching up so tight that his next few thrusts are slowed by your spasming walls, forcing him to really cram his cock into your hole. 

“Christ, that’s cute,” John growls, his pupils blown out. 

It hurts to come that hard; makes your belly cramp up and everything. Whatever gibberish spills from your mouth gets lost in the aftermath. 

That’s when the temperature goes from hot to blistering. The muscles of his thighs tense, straining with his impending release. Even his grip around your waist gets tighter, his self-control steamrolled under his approaching climax, oblivious to the way you squeal and squirm when it threads the delicate needle of being too much. 

“Sorry, baby,” he apologises, voice treading gravel. “M’gonna mess your pussy up a bit—”

“Wait—wait—” you gasp, trying fruitlessly to lift yourself up, his arms keeping you pinned tight to his chest. “You’re gonna—John, you’re gonna come inside me—”

His hips thrust up hard at your words, one last rough pump that has him digging his heels into the mattress and clenching his jaw, the veins in his neck protruding. You feel it flood inside you, hot spurts of cum right up against your womb. He curses when he comes, eyelids sliding shut, lost in the sensation of emptying himself into you. 

A few last, punishing thrusts that make your teeth clack together. More heat spurting into you. A murmured oh fuck before his legs slide back down the bed, spreading out over the mattress. 

The blanket is somewhere at the foot of the bed, all scrunched up and nearly dangling off the edge. You only start to shiver when the sweat on your back finally begins to cool. 

When he pulls you off his cock, you whimper, a hot flash snaking through you. Oh Christ did he plug you up good. Stringy, viscous cum leaks from your hole, leaving a little puddle on his thigh when you slide off his chest and to the side a bit. 

“Oh baby,” he tuts softly, reaching between your legs to feel where you’re wet and a little swollen. “Sorry, sweetheart…wanna get cleaned up?”

“No…” you rasp, so dazed that you can’t even lift your cheek off his chest. 

Exhaustion has never ridden you this hard before, but considering the circumstances…—perhaps you’re lucky to be conscious at all, is all you mean. There’s not a chance of you having enough energy to do anything as rigorous as showering though. 

“Okay, baby. Little kiss?” John asks in a murmur, lifting your head up by your chin and swooping down for a kiss. Not even giving you enough time to process his words before his mouth is on yours. 

His lips glide slick against yours, tongue slipping into your mouth like he needs a good, deep kiss to ground him. A wet twisting of tongues; a thick finger stroking up your neck. He can’t stop touching you. Running a hand up your spine and curving it back down over your ass. Featherlight touches meant to calm you down. His kisses grow sticky, lingering; each one almost the last until he pulls you in for another. 

“Go back to sleep, okay?” John says, still speaking low enough to push you back under. He smooths his hand down your back again. 

You fall back asleep with a load in your belly and your head in a tizzy. The you of tomorrow is going to have a lot to contend with from the you of tonight.

[constellationguy]

Lies the Genshin Men say

*little explicit here and there*

Explicit sections: Childe, Dottore-ish, Kaeya, Baizhu

The Harbingers

Pierro: He says he prefers to see you in his colors, mainly blues and black. Truthfully he adores you in red. He can’t keep his hands off you when you wear red. He also buys you anything that’s red, dresses, shoes, lipstick, flowers, all because the color reminds him of you. For events he prefers you to wear jewelry with darling bright sapphires but your jewelry case is filled with too many rubies to count.

Il Capitano: He says he prefers his hair straight and unrestrained. The truth is he will fall asleep if you play with or style his long back hair. Capitano feels the most loved when you are braiding his hair or giving him a scalp massage. When he misses you he braids his hair but he starts at the nape of his neck because his big fingers can’t braid from the top of his head like you do.

Pantalone: He claims he doesn’t care what perfume you wear. This statement is partly true. During galas and social functions he tells you to wear sents that are known to be pricey but not oppressive, expressive and understated he says. However at home he loves your natural sent, with out shame he will set you on his lap and tuck his face into your neck and take a deep breath, it seems like a sigh but he really is smelling you.

Childe: He tells you he loves everything about you equally, but it’s clear that he adores your boobs the most. Ajax loves to hug you from behind and squeeze or caress your chest while hugging you and will whine and beg to let him if you deny him. He loves to burry his head in your chest after a long day. When you don’t wear a bra you can persuade him to do pretty much anything.

Scaramouche: He tells you that he doesn’t care if you learn Japanese or not. In reality his knees will buckle if you call him “Anata” (honey or darling, typically said by a wife to their husband). When you speak with him in Japanese he is so much more animated and emotional. His heart swells with pride when you two speak Japanese in domestic settings. Sing to him in Japanese and he will cry and or fall asleep.

Dottore: He claims to be dominant, which he is, most of the time. He will boss anyone around and make them conform to his will, but he will burn the world for you if you wanted. You tell him to jump and he will ask how high. He will also be extra pliant if you tug on his hair a bit.

Mondstadt

Albedo: He tells you he doesn’t mind not having a “domestic” relationship. In truth he loves seeing you play with Klee. He loves when you cook for him. He loves coming home to you, if he could freeze time to stay in those homey moments he would.

Diluc: He tells everyone that he doesn’t play any interments. However at home he will play the sweetest melodies for you on the piano. His playing is for your ears only. The only other people he will play for is your future children.

Kaeya: He promises you that he will never hurt you. However, he will bite, scratch, and suck on your skin all day every day if you let him. He adores leaving possessive marks on you as well as giving you painful pleasure, the best kind of pleasure in his book.

Venti: He claims to be chill and not possessive at all. But he will stare and scowl at people being flirty with you. He will place his hands possessively on your waist when anyone gets too close to you. He would keep you locked up at home if he could, he just could never share you with anyone.

Liyue

Baizhu: Baizhu claims to dislike your bossiness, but in fact in almost any scenario it kinda turns him on. He loves when you use him for your own pleasure. He loves when you tell him what to do to make you happy or to get you off.

Xiao: He tells you that he doesn’t what anymore people in his life. However, he truly wants a few kids of his own running about, helping him make breakfast for you every morning. The thing he wants most is a family with you.

Zhongli: Not exactly a lie but Zhongli doesn’t like you eating non home cooked food. Any food that isn’t made by someone he trusts, he won’t let you eat. However whenever you’re feeling down or kind of out of it he will order food and bring it home to make you smile.

Inazuma

Goro: He tells everyone who asks that he hates his ears and tail touched, everyone is too rough with them. On the other hand, you’re so gentile with him, when you play with his hair that he can’t help but enjoy when you gently pet his ears.

Kazuha: He will tell you that the world is inspiration. He tells you his poems stem from the sights he sees and emotions he feels as he travels. But in truth Kazuha has not written one poem without you on his mind, you have been his muse and inspiration since you met.

Ayato: He says he doesn’t mind what you wear. But he can’t help but feel happy when you wear the expensive silk sets he bought you. Silk just fits you for some reason. To him silk complements your soft skin perfectly, the smooth reflective fabric just radiants and amplifies your beauty.

Heizo: Whenever he is tired he will go on and on about how he “isn’t sleepy” or how he’s “just gonna rest his eyes.” This man is stubborn when it comes to going to bed. He just wants to spent more time with you. You might have to make him tea and scratch his back while he lays on you to get to fall asleep without a fuss.

Thoma: He claims to be neither here or there on who cooks meals. In actuality in his brain he cries and begs for your cooking. It could be any cuisine and he will be happy. He just loves your cooking and your adoration especially after a long day of taking care of others.

Itto: Itto tells anyone and everyone that he’s married to you. He just loves you so much and fantasizes about your wedding to much sometimes he forgets you’re not actually married yet.

Sumeru

Alhaitham: He tells you that you can sleep by yourself. In reality you and him both know you can’t sleep without each other. If you’re angry with him and you sleep on the couch you two will end up making up in the night when he comes a picks you up to take you back to bed.

Cyno: He claims to not get jealous often but truthfully he craves your attention and gets jealous when he doesn’t get it. He knows how his friends don’t favor his humor so he gets a little insecure when you laugh at their jokes sometimes. Just know he will be clingy behind closed doors to make up for being jealous of his own friends.

Kaveh: Everyday he tells you that he won’t overwork himself, he will take breaks today. He doesn’t, no matter how determined he is he will not take a break until you make him. On days when he’s stuck in his head you have to visit him while he’s at work or at home so he can come back down to earth here and there.

Tighnari: He will complain anyone who will listen about how he hates going into Sumeru city for one thing or another. However he will be giddy when he goes onto Sumeru City to visit you. While he doesn’t like the city, it isn’t so bad when you’re with him.

Fontaine

Lyney: He claims to love all the ways you touch him. However he does have a favorite, he loves when you scratch and massage his back. When you work through his back with your skilled hands he is a happy groaning mess. After a massage he will be like a napping pile on jello. Cuddles with a now loose muscled Lyney are so heart warming.

Neuvillette: He hates the taste of coffee, that’s a plain fact. However, he can’t help but enjoy the taste of coffee if it’s from your lips. The quick good morning kiss you give him as you sip on your coffee makes his head dizzy instead of disgusted like he normally is at the taste of coffee.

Wriothesley: He claims he doesn’t mind you going out alone or without him. Truthfully you are never actually without his surveillance. He has a tracker on your phone and he sends one of his coworkers to make sure you are always safe.

[lovieku]

HANDS ON ME ⋆ 정국

𐙚 if you like what you see, baby put your hands on me.

it’s about to look like jeongguk’s birthday everyday with you.

based on this ask

from the grande series ୨ৎ

pairing: nerd!jk x popular!fem reader

genre: smut

ratings: 18+ / mdni

warnings: lower case intended, jk is inexperienced and sooo whipped, it’s his birthday!!! and he’s getting it hhhh, lowk dom!oc x sub!jk, size kink, tit play, dry humping, brief coochie play, cum eating omfg, blow job, cutest babies ever

word count: 3.9k

a/n: first thing i saw this morning was that ask, so of course i had to write this. like THANK U ANON that was such a good idea yes yes yes. hope u enjoy 🩷🩷

🏷️ perm taglist: @ceellliiinee @jaytheatiny @dolligguk @luvismenu @theyloveyams @stillwjk-channie-lixie @bookstoread199 @girlygguk @vieviela @myngiii @angelxkoo @nnybtitts08 @mpbrinkss @https-mei @lyywst @mhdelu @apobangpogirlyyy @khadeeeeej @awrkive @nooooooooonnneeeeeee @vantelover1306

────୨ৎ────

jeongguk didn’t wish for his birthday party to look like this.

the second he casually mentioned that his parents would be out of town on the very same day he would turn 21, his small friend group (consisting of the two nerdiest guys in college, probably even battling him for the top spot) took it on them to turn what he imagined would be a calm, quiet night spent with the comfort of jimin and taehyung in front of video games into a contending rival of a literal frat party. in his own house. when he never approved of it, nor asked for it.

there’s an inestimable amount of faces he has never seen before this moment, but they all seem to know him, congratulating him every time he comes in their vision. then, they go back to drinking, kissing, soft-fucking on his couch, and seemingly pumping up the volume of the music more and more with each blasting and ungraceful song.

that is probably why he’s struggling a bit more than he usually does with breathing. he’s a huge germaphobe, and having all these strangers barge into his space and lean on every possible surface with their greasy, alcohol stained hands has him close to hyperventilating.

he still hasn’t figured out how his two friends did it, but they managed to involve what looked like the whole uni into coming at jeongguk’s 21st birthday party like it was an unmissable event. it truly did seem like one, though, the birthday boy looking around in a confused awe and realizing this is all he’s ever missed from his teenage years. meh. not all that.

what really got him struggling to breathe is you. you, the most popular girl in college, talks about you on the mouths of all guys and girls in the hallways, loved yet envied by every single one of them, are here. and when you greeted him, you did so with a kiss for each of his cheeks. he stood there like he truly was going to let his lungs stop working, and you just smiled up at him through your long lashes and big eyes.

you’re not popular for the cliché reasons a girl in college might be. you’re not mean, you don’t square uncool people from head to toe with a judging look, you’re not known to be scary and unapproachable. the reason why you’re surrounded by a devoted swarm of bees is because you’re the literal definition of an angel.

an angel always ready to help anyone who seems like struggling, flash them with pearly whites, and be impossible to resist with bug, wide eyes conveying all your most honest emotions.

you’re known for genuine reasons. he’s never even heard many rumors about you, and if he did he assumed it was coming from way too envious people. the only thing he allowed himself to believe about your privacy, is that you’re very caring in bed.

he won’t admit it, feels disgusting for it, but he’s touched himself to that thought a couple of times. maybe more.

it doesn’t matter now, because you’re closer to him than you’ve ever been, and you sit in the overwhelming circle that has formed on the floor of his living room, people he has never even talked to proposing games and pushing drinks into his hand since he’s now 21.

unlike most people, that number doesn’t mean a lot to him. he’s not that thrilled about the knowledge that he can now get his hands on anything that was previously denied to him, alcohol and substances of those sorts. he never liked them, and he doesn’t think he will just because of this newfound freedom.

he’s now getting the full experience when someone, sharp-eyed and drunk on audacity, spots the wooden door to his dad’s wine cellar left slightly ajar and suggests seven minutes in heaven with the kind of enthusiasm jeongguk imagines newton felt when that apple hit his head.

on his right, jimin panics for jeongguk, “you’re not going to fuck in mr. jeon’s wine cellar.”

“who said anything about fucking?” dahye, a friend of yours, the complete opposite of you with a mean aura and sliced eyes, intervenes and has everyone laughing.

jimin rolls his eyes and plops down from where he straightened up on his knees, and jeongguk stays silent. he gave up fighting long ago, when the first drink spilled on his carpet.

he just gives a tight-lipped smile when his blonde friend tries an apologetic look, shaking his head and studying the room. jeongguk gulps when his eyes inevitably fall on yours, and he finds you already staring, an intensity he hasn’t seen often. when he’s sure he’s perfectly resembling a deer caught in headlights, you tilt your head amusedly, and he hastily focuses back down on his lap.

“well, since jimin is so afraid we’re gonna break his boyfriend’s stuff,” dahye continues, feeding off the childish chuckles coming from around her, and maybe also off jimin’s annoyed glare, “why don’t we let the birthday boy go first?”

at that, jeongguk’s head snaps up, his fluffy hair bouncing with the sudden movement, and he looks around wide eyed. he’s not sure what the game entails, he just knows something is supposed to happen, but he’s not sure exactly what the people hungrily gawking at him are expecting.

taehyung is about to add something when dahye interrupts once again, resting her hand on your lap beside her, “he can go with ___. i know that would make his day.”

sitting at her left, you’re the only one who doesn’t laugh at the sneaky implication; instead, you glare at your friend, who shrugs in response.

both jimin and taehyung fall in total silence, their eyes alarmingly looking at their friend in the middle. jeongguk seems a hundred times more panicked, but not because of the same reasons.

while his two best friends are simply excited at the prospect of jeongguk’s every dream coming true, eagerly expecting a positive answer from his mouth, jeongguk’s whole focus is on you, and your seemingly impassive face. his mind spins with haunting worries, giving at least twenty different interpretations to the way you’re looking at him, brows subtly twitching up.

he clumsily parts his lips to say something, but with absolutely no senseful thought swarming his brain, nothing comes out.

a beat of anticipated silence goes by before you gracefully stand up, all eyes following you, and even if quiet, your voice goes through the music, “let’s go, gguk.”

jeongguk loudly gulps, and he hopes the sound isn’t heard, but he doubts it since he’s receiving a scary amount of attention that goes over what he’s received his whole life.

if it wasn’t for the two guys at his sides pushing him to stand up, he would have stayed with his ass perched to the floor. instead, he stumbles and almost trips, meeting your eyes with awkward shame as you just softly smile at his gawkiness.

you don’t wait for him, daintily walking to the room victim of the game, pushing the door open and curiously peeking inside. jeongguk hastily jumps over the people sitting on the ground, still quietly observing the scene, and he’s at your side way faster than the time it took for him to even realize what was about to happen.

he exhales loudly at the proximity, standing behind you and basking in the height difference, your head barely reaching his chest, and he thinks he truly sees heaven when you turn around to look up at him, grinning delicately as you tilt your head back, “wanna go in?”

jeongguk is sure he has lost the capability to speak. no matter the sounds he tries to force up his throat, they’re not strong enough to fight their way out. he simply closes the door behind the two of you, and he’s glad when it significantly helps drown out the loud music and drunkish chatter.

he’s less glad for it when it means he’s officially left alone with you in a relatively cramped space, the silence almost more suffocating than the room and its strong smell. but he’s convinced you must be an angel when you don’t complain, not even slightly, your face the expression of composure.

he stands in the middle of the cellar while you explore it in a circle, letting your heels click on the parquet floor and your fingers carefully brush the wine bottles.

the simple action makes him feel hot, naughty mind conjuring up images of you tracing his skin with such care, and he releases a shaky breath before you can stop him, blurting his messy thoughts out, “we— we don’t have— have to do anyt—”

“sit on that stool, gguk.”

the command is anything but harsh, your voice a soft melody of calmness, but it still startles him. no, it shakes something in his chest, traveling all the way down to where he’s starting to feel a strong urge.

you point to a wooden stool in the corner of the room, which doesn’t look too high, but when he obediently goes to sit on it with his knees wobbling, you promptly place yourself in front of him and grin at the way he’s still almost at face level with you, his forehead reaching only a little under your chin.

his huge proportions compared to yours have always managed to make your head spin and thighs squeeze together whenever you managed to sit next to him in the few lectures you shared, lashes fluttering seductively to have him fix nonexistent bugs on your computer just to see his wide hand close to yours on the keyboard.

now, with his puppy eyes staring up at you expectantly, his drawn up brows only emphasizing his yearning, you need to steady yourself with hands on his shoulder to hold back from quite literally grinding on him. you whisper, “good.”

his orbs shake impossibly more, and from the corner of your eye you see his fingers fidgeting in his lap, fighting a delirious need. his legs are spread just enough for you to be standing right in the middle of them, but you push yourself further into him, his chin lifting up even higher to never be forced to look away from your firm gaze, hanging from your lips when you voice an apology, “i didn’t bring a gift, ggukkie.”

jeongguk is almost panting, the endearing nicknames only adding to the warmth of your sweet body, your vanilla scent clouding his senses and gouging the truth out of him, “th—that’s okay, ___. i—i’m very happy you’re here.”

you smile, but it’s one he’s never seen on you. it’s not one of those you flash when you’re grateful, understanding, or even amused. it’s mischievous, almost belittling. “are you saying i’m your gift?”

his eyes widen, and he’s ashamed of the way your accusative tone causes him to throb in his jeans, and in his speech too, “huh— oh my god. i’m so sorry. that must sound so—”

you chuckle, stroking his broad back with your hands sliding across his width, “hey, slow down. it sounds so very cute coming from your lips.”

jeongguk appreciates your efforts at trying to put him at ease, truly. but your soothing touch and words only have him in a state of alert, even more when your fingers travel up his nape and find home in his locks. you’re impossibly close now, and he feels your voice resounding within him, “but i’m still not satisfied. i wanna give you more, make you forgive me.”

your whisper fans over his lips, and he unconsciously parts them for you, his eyes hooded by the second and glassed over with desperate want. you smirk.

stepping back enough for his neck to rest at a comfortable angle, he whimpers deliciously at the loss of your touch, but you shut him up just as quickly when your dress is off you and on the wooden floor in a swift motion.

jeongguk is definitely panting now, breathing manually and focusing too much on having his heart pump oxygen for him rather than the view of your exposed body in front of him.

he gradually realizes he could care less about dying right now if it means the last thing he’s going to be faced with is your nipples hardening with the cool, and hopefully something else, and your lacy white panties barely covering your core.

jeongguk stares like a starved man being met with his first meal after weeks of seeking, his hands trembling on his thighs and squeezing into suppressing fists.

his gasp turns into an awfully high-pitched moan when you hook a finger under the hem of your lingerie, sliding it daintily down your legs and walking out of it, never breaking eye contact with him. only thing you’re left with are your high heeled boots.

the next thing you do has the organs that keep all his vital functions going completely stop working, his heart missing more than ten beats and catching up with an alarmingly fast speed, causing his voice to shake, “___, wh—what are you—”

swinging one of your legs, you sit on him with your ingloriously stained panties pressing right on his crotch, hands placed back on the base of his neck, basking in the way you can feel his rapid beating under your fingers.

you lean into his ear, “if you like what you see, you can put your hands on me, baby.”

jeongguk throws his head back for air, his chest heaving with trembling exhales before he finds your eyes again, and in the fraction of second he needed to look elsewhere if he didn’t want to bust in his tight pants already, you’re a whole different person.

your eyes are sliced, pupils blown and hooded, and your parted lips stretch just enough to paint a wicked smirk over your face, its effects flooding right down his stomach and making you feel his hardness through the material.

his hands dance a panicked rhythm hovering over your sides, not sure what to do, not deeming himself deserving of feeling your skin under his touch. but you take it upon yourself to guide them, pressing his palms against your hips and letting them ride up your exposed breasts.

he whimpers, fingertips unconsciously testing the sense of the soft curve of your boobs with a subtle press, but it’s not enough. you can’t feel him.

with your hands still on his, you arch yourself further into his touch and have his thumbs slice over your sensitive nubs, letting out a moan of your own that goes over his low groan. you lick your lips and struggle to find your breath and words too, but you whisper them through an already too fucked out smile, “see? you can touch me, just like that.”

the go-ahead is all he needs for him to dive his head right into your chest, his tongue catching your nipple in an unpracticed hunger, messily sucking on it and quickly leaving your skin soaked with spit. he works clumsily with his hand on your other tit, movements uncoordinated and unsure.

but the fact that he seems to not care about his inexperience, willing to learn right at this moment all it takes for you to keep whimpering and trembling when he touches, has your usually composed senses lost in a haze of desire, the need to give your all to the nerdy boy that is finally being properly touched just as he turns 21 clouding your senses and pushing you to unconsciously buck your hips against his.

he moans with his mouth full of you, his free hand gripping your thigh, and he tries to stop it but he can’t help the way he meets your grinding, snapping up as if he lost all sort of control over his body. he quite literally wails in desperation, “fuck— don’t— don’t do that. i’m gonna— oh, god.”

“you’re gonna cum?” you sound just as crazed, hips rutting at a faster speed on him, the slickness smearing all over his jeans and leaving a wet patch right where his dick stays confined.

“no! i— i mean, just give me a second, shit. i swear, i—”

“ggukkie, this is about you. i’ll make you cum, hm? how’s that sound?” the sweet sound of your promise has him seeing stars, eyes squeezing shut as he feels himself getting close to a point he doesn’t think he’s ever reached before.

until he’s back to zero.

you lift your hips off his, helping your weight up by placing your hands on his broad shoulders, and you sport a devilish smile when he opens his eyes again, protest ready on his tongue. his brows are furrowed and there’s tears ready to spill out from his eyelids, but you don’t let them.

the huge palm that was still fondling your breast is now being led by you further down, until it disappears between you. you have him cup your wet core, the intensity of the moment only heightened by your gaze never leaving his, “touch me.”

when panic flashes over his expression once again, you instruct him through it just how you did minutes before, and he quickly gets the hang of it. you always appreciated him being a fast learner, but you couldn’t imagine that it would come handy in a scenario like this one.

you hum when his ring and middle finger trace your slit, only to come up to try and find your clit in a surprisingly good attempt, “good, get all of it. make your hand wet.”

the moment squelching sounds reach your ears, you leave your seat from his lap and stand on your heels again. he whines, unknowingly reaching for you, but you halt his hand and redirect it on the zipper of his jeans. you tilt your chin, “take them off.”

he’s quicker than he was at the beginning of his seven minutes in heaven now, freeing himself from the tight pants, boxers going along with it, and his cock springs free deliciously, standing tall and proud against his tummy.

you groan, almost already falling to your knees like you are planning to do soon. it’s an adjective you don’t think you’ve ever used on any of the guys you’ve been with, but jeongguk’s cock is pretty. its pink tip matches his lips, swollen from the harsh biting, and it doesn’t look rough. it has just the perfect length, girth, and when it twitches under your awe, you see it bend subtly to the right.

you smile, meeting his face again, delirious need written all over it, “stroke your cock with the hand you touched me with,” the second the order is out your lips, he’s already working himself. you can see him trying to go at a merciful speed, his grip loose, and it makes you grin amusedly, “mh, aren’t you so obedient. let me have a taste, gguk.”

you clearly have noticed that he’s not as quick on his feet as he usually is, brain clouded, so you once again take it upon yourself to lead his hand, this time introducing two of his fingers in your warm mouth. you hum loudly around the thick digits, eyes rolling back, and you speak around them, “fuck, you wanna try that?”

you don’t wait for him to reply, knowing it would get him minutes that you sadly don’t have to formulate a senseful answer, and you simply feed him his own fingers, carefully watching the way he lets his cheek hollow around them. you chuckle feverishly, “we taste so good together, don’t we?”

he nods eagerly, eyes glassy with more tears, and you think you can see one drop at the side of his face just as you fall to your knees in front of his seated body, your pretty figure even smaller from his view, and he’s graced with your bug eyes staring up at him through long lashes.

you don’t waste any more time, knowing there’s not much left in the heaven you’ve created for your own, and you wrap your ravenous mouth around him, showing none of the previous mercy in your speed.

he lets his mouth hang open, moans uncontrollably loud, and he needs to grab the sides of his stool to get the illusion of some sort of power still left within him. he closes his eyes in bliss, but quickly snaps them open when he realizes what he’s missing.

you’re bobbing your head up and down his length, and you still manage to maintain that dainty elegance that characterizes you, slim fingers gripping around the base and making up for the spots you can’t reach. he pants on the verge of a heart attack, pitch high as he begs, “fuck. look— look up at me, please.”

you do, aligning yourself better to meet his frenzied state, eyes communicating all the words you can’t say, too engaged in having him unravel all over your lips. he groans at the eye contact, thinking back to all the times he’s seen this exact scene flash behind his closed eyelids, and he’s a fool for even believing his mere imagination could compare.

it will never be enough, never again. not after this. not after knowing what you look like as you devote yourself to him, precise movements getting him closer, the way your tongue flickers out to reach down further and how you let his tip meet the back of your throat finally causing him to snap his hips up involuntarily, and before he can say something to warn you, he’s painting your warm mouth with his cum.

ropes of white, hot liquid spill out from you, but you promptly collect all of it, making sure not a single drop is missed, gulping it down with eager want. you wordlessly smile up at him, infatuated with the way his chest heaves and his lips part, trying to regain some composure.

he thinks he will need hours to fully recover. and he’s not even sure he wants this moment to end, blurting his predominant thought out before he knows it, “i wanna make you feel good, too.”

you chuckle as you get up, quickly soothing your knees before collecting your panties from the ground and walking back inside them, “it’s okay, baby. this was my birthday gift for you, hm? besides, we don’t have much time left before the others come in.”

“but…”

jeongguk helplessly watches as you get dressed, cringing at the stickiness of your wet core but nonetheless slipping your flowy dress back on. he just had the best orgasm of his life from the girl he firmly believes to be the love of his life, and he doesn’t get to give it back. oh, he feels like an absolute asshole.

you seem to read it all simply by scanning his face fondly, words soft, “that doesn’t mean you won’t get to do that, you cute boy. you will, and soon.”

when you’re done fixing the creases over your clothes, you walk to him and help him back in his jeans. tucking his softening length in, you lift up the zip of his pants and you’re glad for the way the patch of your wetness seems to have dried.

standing between his spread legs, you brush a hand through his hair, tenderly watching the way his curls fall and tickle his forehead. you smile and whisper quietly, “i got your number from dahye. i’ll text you, okay?”

he gulps, nodding hastily at your rhetorical question and feeling the blush creep up his neck. god, he must look like a total fool, “o—okay…”

humming lowly, you press your lips to his cheek, then to the tip of his nose, “you’re so pretty, you know that? don’t be sad.” next, your mouth rests on his, molding in a kiss that has his eyes shooting wide, and that ends way before he can even realize what’s happening. you chuckle at his expression, and you can’t resist another peck before promising, “happy birthday, gguk.”

[curtins]

going to a cafe with the jujutsu kaisen men a/n: (based on irl experience with a wide variety of subpar men) 😭 gojo's order being my order...aurkay!

gojo — def the type to walk in and push his sunglasses down to check out the place. his order def goes something like a venti caramel macchiato with almond milk, two pumps of vanilla and two pumps of hazelnut, and a little caramel swirl at the top. smiles and is friendly to all the baristas, he's never rude to workers. tells the barista is gojo, with an o. whoever's unfortunate enough to be stuck next to him is doomed to hear him wax poetic about how coffee beans are the soul of the earth, and its 'really deep, you wouldn't get it lol'. if you order a black coffee, he'll ask if everything is okay at home. can't leave the cafe without ordering a $8.00 sweet treat and then wondering why all his purchases are adding up

geto — walks in as if he's a regular and tells the barista that he'll have his 'regular'. the barista has never seen him before. probably orders a flat white, double shot of espresso, no foam. he always says he doesn't have to pretend to like foam because he's chill like that. he'll ask for the wifi password, but only so he can show off how good he is at working in a cafe, but his ass is on coolmathsgames. will nod and pretend to care about whatever you're saying but he's still thinking about coolmathsgames. will also drop random metaphors like 'life is just like coffee. you either take it strong or with sugar.' you tell him to save the bad metaphors for his cult.

nanami — doesn't wander or hesitate when he enters the cafe. checks his watch every five minute. orders a black coffe, medium, and adds one packet of sugar. he's pretty good at ordering what he wants efficiently, and it leaves even the barista worried. he's here to relax so don't ask him any unnecessary question because this man needs a break. actually enjoys eavesdropping on people's conversations, and ends up tilting his angle to snoop on gossip better. avoids small talk like its another curse. you can't really make him react too much in a cafe, unless you spill coffee on his freshly pressed suit. will be passive aggressive and suggest that the cafe chooses better music. likes a good, dependable pastry. apple danishes are a favourite.

sukuna — prefers tea, without debate. but still orders relatively normal things. likes a good latte with chocolate syrup. but the king of curses kinda has to look cool, so he powers his way through a black coffee, with no sugar or milk. you swear his eyes are tearing up as he pretends to like it. after every sip of coffee, he sighs really loudly and it gets a bit annoying. even after you ask what's wrong, he says its nothing and continues to sigh loudly. nanami may be the one who eavesdrops, but sukuna is the one who interferes. will turn around in his chair to give unsolicited advice, but he genuinely thinks he's being helpful by telling schoolgirls to buy cleavers to chop their friends' hands off. is mildly offended when they move tables and give him weird looks. passes loud comments on other people and tells couples when he thinks they will breakup. attempts to connect to the wifi three times before threatening to burn the router.

toji — the barista asks if he wants a pastry with his drink and he asks 'do i look like the type of man to eat a muffin?' but if they're free, he'll take two. sits with his back to the wall like he's in a mob movie. god help anyone who sits too close to him, he really just doesn't trust anyone in his personal space. doesn't even acknowledge the existence of others until he's had at least three sips of his coffee. you could tell him his house is on fire, and he’d just mutter that he can't do anything about it now. types the wifi password on his phone with one finger like a caveman. tells parents to 'control their spawn' but entertains kids with coin tricks when no-one is looking. sometimes struggles to fit the lid on his go-to cup, and refuses to asks for help. wrestles with it for five minutes, getting increasingly annoyed before rushing out the door.

choso (this one is dedicated to pookie @creamflix) — frowns at the menu like it's written in an ancient language, like wtf is affogato. if someone behinds him coughs, he scolds them and says he's going as fast as he cans. spends 10 minutes deciding and then panics at the last second, tells the barista to give him whatever. if the barista asks any follow up questions (like milk preferences) he genuinely short circuits, "what kinds of milk are there?" he's genuinely baffled that there are options beyond 'cow.' he'll point at a pastry and ask what's in it. the barista explains and he replies with 'okay i trust you.' always ends up picking a wobbly table by accident and spends 15 minutes trying to fix it with folded napkins. if someone asks to share his table, he'll look like they just asked for his kidneys. if someone asks for his opinion on his pastry, its always a dumbass cryptic answer like 'its interesting.' uses his phone on full brightness and everyone can see him look up 'how to pronounce cafe au lait.' cleans up after himself because he's nice like that. if the staff get his order wrong, he never says anything even if it tastes like dirt.

[jk-kiwi]

The glass queen

The glass queen (18+)

Characters - King JK x queen Y/N reader (Woman)

Genre - Royal Au, heavy angst (?), drama, suggestive/smut, fluff, THIS is fiction

Summary - In a once-thriving kingdom, filled with love and care, the queen, who ruled along with her devoted husband, fell deeply ill. Desperate to save her, the king falls into a restless journey to try and restore what once was lost.  Warnings - Illness and description of illness (the reader is sick), pregnancy and kind of baby craze from some characters, alluding to cheating (?), parental manipulation, double marriage (one is forced), misunderstandings, fictional characters, heavy feelings, harsh words, mentions of wishing to disappear and never return (once I think), mentions of blood, throwing up (not detailed).  Jungkook is one loyal man I tell you. Warnings for the not so holy parts (18+) - Description of male and female parts. They bathe together, aphrodisiac usage and itercourse while on it, consensual but one time Jungkook doesn’t remember, hickeys, Y/N on top once, no heavy/crazy stuff, they do it twice. I hate detailing about it so…Read at your own risk!

MINORS PLEASE STAY AWAY!

Author’s note - Not as happy with this one, but oh well. If anyone wants to detail about the 18+ parts in a comment, I will copy and paste it! Tell me if I missed anything in the warnings or if there are any errors. Enjoy!

Word count - 16.5k

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

There was once a glorious kingdom, a loving queen and her devoted king ruling it with wisdom and care. Their people were thriving under their protection after the heartbreak of the late king passing away had diminished. 

It’s been three years ever since prince Jungkook has tied the knot with you, making you the queen of his people and heart. Three years that were filled with love and devotion, three years that seemed to vanish in an unfortunate blink. “The queen has fallen ill.” It all began on an autumn morning, both of you were ready to celebrate your third anniversary, a huge banquet was about to be held in honor of the king and queen of this land. But that morning was not the beginning of a celebration, a new year beside your king... 

All that you remember to this day is the dizziness, the nausea. You felt like you couldn’t breathe anymore, your lungs were suffocating in a burning pain. You couldn’t speak or scream or cry, you laid there frozen, statue-like, taking in the misfortune that laid upon you. 

You remember a doctor coming and checking on you, you remember your husband’s worried eyes, your maiden crying, and beside the pain and fear, the only thing that stuck with you were the words “The queen has fallen ill.” That was almost two years ago, the beginning of the nightmare you had been fighting ever since. 

At first nobody knew what was happening to you. The doctors, unsure of the illness you were carrying. But your people wanted answers and nobody had them. They tested and tested, they tried all types of medicine, but your state only further declined. So they gave you a nickname, the glass queen. 

The nickname haunted you. Fragile. Delicate. A figure meant to be admired but could never be touched. You hated it.

It made you feel weaker. Nobody knew how much you had left, if you would be getting better or not at all. The people grew impatient and slowly started their gossip, the whispers within the palace walls. “How much could she still bear this, I would’ve ended it much sooner in her place.”, “I pity her, just imagine the aches she’s going through”, “Just think of the poor king, having to deal with such pain everyday.”. You heard them all, outside the palace being even worse. People expected you to be by their side and provide them with the duty you were given, the one of a queen. But you locked yourself in your room in shame, becoming weary of people’s eyes, showing yourself less and less, not wanting them to see how pitiful you have become. Truth to be told, you would’ve withered away much faster under their insensitive words, only if it wasn’t for Jungkook, your determination to live and fight further, hoping that one day you could return to what you once were. 

He stayed by your side, day and night, devoted to you and only you. You hid away from him at times, ashamed of what has become of his queen, but he always saw the light shining deep inside of you, the light of wanting to survive, to be close to him and hold him without pain and worry once again. So he stayed by your side, blinding you from all the hate, not letting you know he was battling his own demons… “Under no circumstances!” His jaw clenched, hands turned into fists. “Jungkook! I am your mother and I know what’s good for you, it’s time you look outside the box you created! The people are unhappy!” He scoffs looking at his mother in hatred, enraging her further.

“And I said no, I’ve been ruling for the past 5 years, do they not trust me? My judgment? Their king!” His voice raised in anger and disbelief.

“She’s been like this for almost two years already, God knows how much she has left! You need an heir, if she dies, who's going to take over the throne?” the mother fights back, trying to open her child's eyes. He didn’t want to succumb to fear, the fear of losing you, fear of everything you’ve built crumbling at his feet, under his helpless gaze. Being a king was not easy, solving issues, pleasing people, arguing all day with his mom over this and that all while trying to help you overcome it all.

Jungkook had a lot on his plate, and now, a more ridiculous and outrageous request came in.

He needed an heir. 

If the queen passes away he’ll be a widower. He could still rule, yes, but his blood line would not continue, making him the last standing from his family, forcing a new power to take over what decades of his generation had already built.

“It’s not much I ask of you to do. You marry her, give an heir to the throne and then it’s your decision on how to handle things further.” He had refused to entertain the idea, long ago. Not wanting to believe that his own mother would impose such ridicule. Him, the king, having a concubine by his side since his sick wife could not bear children? Outrageous! “I’m not doing such awful thing to my wife. Don’t you think she’s gone through enough? If she finds out I’m marrying a second woman she might…” Tears start to gather into his eyes in pure frustration. The thoughts of you leaving, eating him alive. How could he do something so cruel to you? “She will understand, it’s her duty to bear a child, and since her illness she can’t comply with it. She needs to understand this is for the better good of the kingdom!” Jungkook slouches in his chair in defeat, this is a battle he might never win. His mom has been pushing this idea for almost a year now. “Yujin is a nice girl, she’s the daughter of a duke! Trust me she’s well fit to be your quee…” “She will never be a queen!” He shouts, fist hitting the desk in front of him in rage. “She will never be my queen, I won’t allow it.” His mother scoffs and folds her arms looking away from her stubborn son. “I’m sending her here tomorrow to have dinner with you. I’m tired of your antics, your father would be rolling in his grave knowing this is how you rule.” She spits out, tired of pointless arguing, before storming out of his office. 

Jungkook sighs, fighting back the urge to scream and cry, to just run far away from all his responsibilities. He wants to be a powerful king, someone people will look up to and follow without fear. But his own self is breaking into pieces, crumbling more and more with the heaviness thrown on his shoulders. He raises from his chair defeated, ready to go and find his own support, his only safe place. Exiting his office he takes fast steps towards the chambers, but before he can enter the hallway his body collides with someone else. His arms are quick to catch and without any further thoughts he pulls you into his embrace, his body already recognizing yours, scent way too familiar to mistake your presence for someone else's. “What are you doing here, my love?” He cuddles you close to his chest, hand gently caressing your hair, his muscles relaxing. “You should rest. Did the doctor come and you were scared?”

“No” You answer quietly, inhaling all of his sweet scent, grateful to receive his warmth . “I’ve been bored. I waited all day for you to come, but you didn’t even dare a second to pass by. Do you not love me anymore?” You ask teasingly, making him chuckle, his head shaking in denial. “How can I not? You’ve been in my head all day, couldn’t focus on any work.” He mumbles back making you smile, wrapping your weak arms around him. “Then carry me back to my room please, show me how much you’ve missed your wife.” He laughs and in a rush he picks you up, you gasp. “A little too rough for my queen?” He says looking up at you, your hands resting on his shoulders while he was holding you from above your knees. “You could try to be more gentle, I bruise easily.” You pout and he just maneuvers you in such a way that you end up being carried bridal style towards your room. Arriving, Jungkook places you gently on the bed, letting you sit on the edge. “You seem to have something on your mind” Looking at him fidgeting with his fingers. He is indeed a little restless, making you wonder why is he avoiding your gaze all of a sudden? “Don’t worry about me, just work. Has the doctor come yet?” He asks like in a rush to leave and you nod “I should let you rest then, the medicine will kick in soon.” He bows down to your level kissing your forehead, but before he can leave you gently tug on his blazer. “Why don’t you stay? It’s been long since we spent the night together.” You look up at him with expecting eyes, hoping that he can hold you close just for tonight. “You should be tired, love. I will not hold onto your sleeping time today.” He says apologetically. “But, Jungkook. You never come by anymore…I miss you...”

You knew the reason he wasn’t coming, you were getting weaker and he was afraid. It’s been long since you’ve shared a bed, let alone him daring to touch you in any other way. You craved him, even only his embrace and it would release the aching pains you were feeling. He was touching you like handling a frail piece of glass. You felt sad. But you can’t condemn him, he’s your man and you know deep down he also wants to be close like before with you, but with all the medicine you must take it’s hard to even walk sometimes, let alone engage in other strenuous activities. So he kept his distance. And it pained you, to know you can’t give him anything. To know he has to hide away from you. You felt the guilt, hurting more than the illness itself.

"Just stay tonight, let’s sleep here, together.” You plead for the last time, hoping it’s not in vain like any other nights, slightly ashamed to ask for more, to pursue harder. He tries to fight the urge, to just shove aside everything and love you like you deserve. But he can’t.

You sigh at his silence, fighting the bitter taste in your mouth, his silence being enough of a response.

“I understand…you must be tired too…I think it’s better if you also head out to sleep, I’m getting tired.” And you were. Tired of the burden you were carrying and casting above everyone else. Tired of cursing the people you loved.

You lay down between the mountain of pillows and blankets you’ve collected along the years in hopes to soothe you better and by shoving your face in one you try to mask the tears that fall down on your face.

You close your eyes hearing him sigh before caressing your arm, leaving a kiss on your shoulder and then leaving. The room empty and cold without his presence.

You grab the pillow muffling your sound into it, throwing it across your beautiful room. You look outside the window, the sky dark, the moon shining above making you remember all the past moments you shared with Jungkook, walking into the dark of the night, holding hands, being deeply in love and without a care. When will you get them again? The walks and sleepless nights spent holding each other, the promises and dreams you made together, his hands gently caressing your body, lips making their way down your neck, the feeling of burning passion flowing in the air. You wish to disappear and never return. Life will be much easier for you and for those around, getting rid of the burden you bring, you feel meaningless.

Slowly you fall asleep, the substances finally making their way into your body, calming the pains you had. 

Outside the door, without your notice, Jungkook was resting. His back pressed to the door, biting his lip in regret. He should’ve held you. He should’ve told you about what’s to come, the pressure he was feeling. He should’ve not run away like he always does when responsibility arises. He’s still young and naive, tough. Brought to the throne before even turning the age of 18, still mourning his father’s death and now with a crown on his head, having to take over much harsher tasks. The only thing he had along, being you.

You were there when he needed you most…but now, when you need him most, he isn’t here. 

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

The morning came by fast for Jungkook after spending almost all night by your door. The maids began waking him up and his personal adviser didn’t even hesitate to shove down his throat the list of things he had to do for the day.

“My lord, don’t forget about the meeting with lady Yujin. She’s on her way to the palace.” The adviser reminds. “Tell her not to come.” He says without hesitation, voice latched with indifference. “But, my lord, our elder queen has said that it’s a must for you to attend.” 

He didn’t want to enrage his mother, surely, but the thought of your heart breaking by meeting another woman was far worse. In his mind he was neglecting you already, but betrayal? Such thoughts would never dare cross his mind on their own.

“I will not attend then.” He manages to button up his shirt leaving his room with the stressed adviser following behind. “My lord, please, it’s just a dinner meeting, nothing serious, the queen won’t know.” Jungkook stops in his steps, fists clenching in rage seeing how even his servants push this further, not respecting the status he has. “One meal, that’s all. After that I don’t want to hear about her.” He finally complies, thinking you will not hear about this and he will just make it clear that he is not interested and end it all forever. 

And so he found himself sitting in front of the duchess, Lady Yujin. She was beautiful, not to deny. Small body, always dressed in expensive dresses and jewelry. Her hair was curled up in a bun, fingernails perfectly done and a lingering, intoxicating perfume, the last point of her perfect image. Every man would fall for such high beauty, and despite her looks she was also young and vigorous, only 19 of age, 3 years younger than you two.

She was a refined lady, clearly showing that her parents were wealthy and put a lot of work into her education and manners, spoiling her with everything she desired.

“It’s a pleasure to be at the same table with you, my Grace.” Her voice was melodious, alluring even. “Thank you for making time to be here, Lady Yujin.” Jungkook felt bothered by her presence, he wished the meal would end soon. “Oh, please! Just call me Yujin, no need for formalities, my Grace.” she says, eyeing the man up and down. People referred to him as their grace all the time, but this gave him an ick, hearing it roll out of her tongue so easily, so nonchalantly.

“I’m here with a proposal, my dear father has sent me.” She picks up her tea cup, sipping slowly, every now and then locking eyes with the boy. “I’ve heard the queen has fallen ill, I felt sorry to hear such unfortunate news.” She sighs sadly, her voice holding mock concern.

“Since then I’ve heard you two have been avoiding each other. Perhaps it’s the fact that she’s weak and frail, or maybe…she can’t give an heir to the throne?”

Jungkook clenches his jaw, eyes darkening, the air around him heavy and suffocating when hearing her discuss matters like his wife’s feelings didn’t matter. “The elder queen has gotten in contact with my family, proposing a marriage between the two of us in order for the kingdom to receive its precious descendant.” She continued, her lips curving into a coy smile.

Jungkook’s gaze bore into hers, his expression hardening. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but my mother has not been in command since long ago. I’m loyal to my wife and I don’t need a mere concubine by my side. The queen is my wife, and she will remain so, heir or not.” he spits sharply.

The young girl tilts her head, a glimpse of bitterness could be catched for one second before her expression softens just enough to appear sympathetic. “Your loyalty is truly admirable, my Grace.” 

Her tone was almost sweet, while her fingers played slowly with her curls, twirling them around. “But loyalty does not sustain a kingdom. Your people grow fears, they doubt your judgment, they wonder what would happen to their land after you lose the throne.” She sighs once again, trying to appear concerned for others. “Sooner or later, your Majesty…” she said, leaning closer, her voice dropping just above a whisper “You will have to choose. And faced with the options of loving her or the survival of your empire, what will your judgment decide upon?” Her words were harsh, showing parts of her true self. Jungkook's breath hitched at her boldness. His mind recognizing the guilt trap she was setting, but his heart was aching.

He is the king, his main priority is to protect his people before all. He was already faced with splitting between love and responsibility.

“Perhaps we can discuss mathers in further meetings.” she said, her voice smooth, uninterested in toying with him anymore. “I know Your Grace will make the best decision regarding the safety of people.” She offered a graceful smile, while rising from the chair.

“Let’s meet again tomorrow. It’s my first time here, I would love to be shown around.” “Of course.” He stood up as well, the tension beneath him almost breaking his calm exterior. “Unfortunately I have a long list of duties that call my name. I will have one of the servants arrange a proper tour for you, Lady Yujin.” His tone was cold, a quiet reminder that despite her boldness, he was still the one in control. 

Yujin’s lips parted wanting to say something else, to try and stop him and achieve what she wanted like she was always thought to do, but both were stopped when the doors of the dining room were opened, your body peaking through, your maiden following behind. “Your Majesty,” you were surprised, your voice steady and curious at the sight of your husband being with an unknown lady. Your eyes darted between the two of them, taking in the room's tense atmosphere. 

“I apologize for the interruption, I wanted to get my dinner outside my room today. I didn’t know we were having guests over.” You bow down lightly, making Jungkook soften at the sight. His rigid posture calming down, legs taking him closer to you in a habit. “Y/N.” he said, his voice gentler now. “You should be resting, my love.” You smile, fingers caressing the beautiful embroidery on his blazer, admiring how well built he is in comparison to you.

“I’ve rested long enough. I can’t spend the rest of my life locked up in that room. I’ve been feeling better since this new medicine.”

“I see,” he murmured, his lips falling into a faint smile. “Don’t push yourself too hard, you still have a long time to recover.” Your tender moment, a sight for those around, was now being interrupted by the woman sitting across the room, envy in her eyes. 

“Such a heartwarming moment to witness.” She says clasping her hands together. “Though I must admit, I hadn’t expected to see Your Grace today.”  she added, directing her words toward you. “I figured since you’ve been in such a delicate position, you would like to rest, not entangle yourself with administrative problems.” Your gaze met hers, you felt calm despite the stab hidden beneath her words. “I appreciate your concern,” you replied smoothly, detaching yourself from Jungkook. “But I know my limits better than anyone.” you say while eyeing her. Jungkook’s hand grasps yours gently, making you look up at him giving a reassuring smile in response to his concern. Yujin’s smile falters ever so slightly seeing you stand with such confidence, but she quickly recovers, lightly chuckling. 

“I hope I didn’t upset Your Grace, these were not my intentions. I am a devoted woman when it comes to the good of the people.” She starts again, the same story of how good she wants to appear in front of you, wishing just a tiny part of her acts could tone you down.

“Y/N’s dedication has never been in question either.” Jungkook interrupts firmly, his voice steady. “She is not only my queen but the heart of this kingdom, you should admire her for the efforts she’s putting in.”

Yujin froze in place, taken aback by the sudden confession. “Of course,” she murmured, a flicker of frustration obvious in her gaze.

“Your Majesty is fortunate to have such a queen by his side.” She mumbles before bowing deeply to the both of you and making her way towards the exit, but not before leaving her last words to linger around. “I’d love for his Majesty to join my tour tomorrow, if possible. We have important matters to discuss” she said, pausing, her gaze briefly meeting Jungkook’s before she turned and disappeared through the doorway. The room was silent for a moment. You turned to Jungkook eyeing him, his expression unreadable. “Jungkook, who was this lady?” You cut down formalities when met only with him. 

For a moment he didn’t answer, his mind and heart running wild, weighing whether to share more of what’s happening with you or not, scared of your reaction towards what’s happening. “Don’t worry.” he said carefully, avoiding your glance. “She’s just an acquaintance…” You could read him, you knew him for a long time, he was hiding stuff from you.

You exhale abruptly, turning your body away from the man. “Is this your way of protecting me? I could read through your lies every day, Jungkook! I know you better than anyone else.” You huff in annoyance, signaling your maiden. “I have no appetite anymore.” Your frustration was building up, you were tired of pretending everything was fine around you two. You could hear him follow behind you, trying to stop you in your steps. You didn’t look back, you didn’t stop…you couldn’t. Is distance and lies what has become of your relationship? Arriving at your door you send your maiden away, turning to finally seek the man. You could see the hurt in his eyes, the way he was trying to avoid your glance in shame for being caught. “Is this what I am to you?” You say, your heart racing in your chest. “I can’t keep pretending everything is fine when you keep lying to me, hiding away stuff, avoiding me.” Jungkook opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He swallowed hard, his doe eyes finally meeting your sad ones. “I am no longer the person you turn to, Jungkook. I can see this, I can feel this.” you pause for a second, trying so hard to gather the words that were scattering around your head.

“You don’t come anymore, you don’t see me anymore, you don’t want to touch me anymore. Is this the reason she’s here? Are you trying to replace me?” You ask upset, tears burning in your eyes. “You know this is not true! You are everything to me.” he says, his voice cracking, defending his actions. “Everything I’m doing is for the kingdom, for us...” He takes a step closer, his hand reaching out for yours, but you pull away. “Is it?” You whispered, a single tear running down your cheek. For a moment, neither of you move, his silence was cutting you deep. Finally, he finally breaks, voice quieter now, almost pleading. "Please love…I don't want to hurt you.” his hand finds his way up, the back of his fingers barely caressing your face. “But you do, everyday! Do you even see me as your woman anymore?” your voice was trembling, a mix of frustration and pain in it.

"Y/N, you are still everything to me, you are my woman, my queen.” he was frustrated too, wanting to keep you safe and show you love, but being afraid of losing you. He wanted you to understand him too, how hard it is for him to stay away. “You used to want me, you used to look at me like I was your world. Now I don’t know who I am to you anymore!" You break down in rage and upset.

Jungkook’s chest tightened seeing how he only causes more pain then relief to your aching pains. His arms wrap around you so tight, finally giving in, the craves he has for you spilling. "I still want you. I always will" he says, his feelings raw. You look up at him, your teary eyes and pouty lips making him melt. “Then love me, I won’t break.” and that’s all it takes.

He picks you from the ground, one hand opening then closing the door behind you. His lips find yours after so many days of being untouched, honey-like taste lingering around. You cry. The feelings of being close with your husband breaking every wall you build around yourself all these years. He lays you down between the mountain of pillows and blankets, his lips never breaking from yours. “I am afraid.” He says when you pull away for a fresh breath of air. “I don’t want to lose you, but pushing you away kills me everyday.” He whispers letting his own fears alive, tears falling onto your neck. You raise your hand to reassure him, gently combing through his hair, shooting away his own hurt. “Then don’t push me away anymore. I need you by my side and you do too.” You let him sob on your chest, finally grasping how hard everything has been for him. “I want to stay by your side, Jungkook. I wish to be the queen I was before. So please…stop throwing me into the shadows.” His arms tighten around you. “I’m sorry.” he chokes out, his voice muffled against you “I want to be better at this, but I feel like I have no one. Everyone wants something from me and I feel…so alone…” He finally confesses, showing all of his emotions. 

“I’ll do better, Y/N. I promise.” he looks up and you cup his cheek, your thumb wiping away his tears. “I am not much of a support, but don’t hide away from me. I am not as weak as people make me to be.”

His brows furrow, guilt flickering across his face knowing he lets you think you’re weak, you being the strongest person he’s met. “You’re not weak.” he whispers. “You never were.”, “You will never be.” He kisses you gently once again, his salty lips burning against yours before pulling away to rest his forehead on yours. “Let’s take it easy from now. I’ll trust you and you trust me. No more running away” his breath feels warm against your face. “I’ll sleep with you today, it’s been long since we spent time together.” He takes off his clothes, remaining only in his white shirt and pants and rests down next to you, arms wrapping around your figure from behind. 

You could feel it for the first time since forever, the feeling of reassurance, the walls you’ve built along the years beginning to rebuild. You lean deeper into his touch without the care for the future, feeling in the moment like you could conquer the world together.

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

The next day, the palace was too full of life. The maids and servants were going crazy trying to find the king. A problem has arised, a big one. The doors of your bedroom flew open with a loud bang, startling the both of you, making Jungkook almost fall from the bed. Your maiden, Seol gasping in shock and embarrassment seeing the both of you entangled between the sheets. 

“Y-your Grace! Oh my, I apologize for intruding in such a way. I-I didn’t know you and my Lady.” Her head quickly lowered in shame of witnessing such a scene. You hid under your blanket trying to suppress your laughter. Jungkook ran a hand through his messy hair, letting out a sigh, he was a little irritated by the disturbance. “Seol. What’s the meaning of all this?” 

The girl gulped, bowing deeply “Forgive me, Your Grace! The elder queen is here, she’s demanding to talk to you.” Your heart sank at the mention of the elder queen, she was never fond of you and you knew from way before how harsh she is with Jungkook, trying to keep him under her strong control. You glanced at Jungkook, who was already frowning. “What is it now?” Jungkook muttered under his breath before getting out of bed, making Seol shriek and turn away blushing in embarrassment. “I will go and see what this is about.”  He puts on his blazer and shoes and exits the room leaving you and your flustered maiden behind. You sit up and look at the girl, concern running through your veins. “Seol, what is this about? Why is Jungkook’s mother here again?” You heard from around the palace a thing or two, having a close bond with your maiden has always proven efficient in letting you be in touch with what was happening around.

Seol hesitates, wringing her hands nervously. “My lady, I…I don’t think I should…” You huff in annoyance with her trying to keep the secret. “You should, we don’t keep secrets around here. Why is she here?” You ask for answers in a more demanding tone. She lowers her voice, glancing toward the door as if afraid someone might overhear, before finally breaking the news to you. “The elder queen… she’s growing impatient. She’s been making arrangements, calling for meetings with the king behind closed doors.”

“Arrangements? For what?” you press on, wanting a proper answer. “From what I know it’s exclusive between her, the king and his adviser. I tried to get more info, but I’ll be beheaded if they find me sneaking around!” “Why didn’t Jungkook tell me… Is this all you know?” you ask, eagerly expecting. Seol bites her lip before coming even closer to you. “That lady, she’s also here.” She whispers, making your heart skip a beat.

“The girl from yesterday? The one that had dinner with my husband?” You ask stunned and Seol nods, her expression filled with unease. “Yes, my lady. She’s in the garden with the elder queen now. They are waiting for the king to be there, I feel like something is going to happen.” You sigh and raise from the bed. “This only sounds like trouble. Prepare my dress, I’m going to see what’s happening there.” “My lady, I think you should not!” Seol tries to stop, but you turn and look at her with angry eyes. She can only comply under your authority, you are the queen and she can’t tell you want to do. With shame she bows her head and starts to help you dress.

“Don’t push yourself too hard, my lady...” she says worried before following you to the garden.

…

Slowly you see it. The garden doors come into view making you take a deep breath in nervousness. You could hear their voices and you could definitely see a stressed Jungkook through the glass window.

“I told you to cut it down, this is not happening! Why can’t you understand!” He’s trying to keep his composure, he was angry for some reason unknown to you.

“Bring that damned girl here! It’s not your decision to make, she has to give her word! What king are you, ever since two years ago this place has been running wild!”

Beside him sits the elder queen, her presence commanding and cold, and next to her the girl you saw before, a sly smile tugging at her lips.

You open the doors making them stop, all eyes being on you. “Forgive my intrusion.” you say, your voice calm but firm. “But I believe I should also be present to whatever is happening here.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened in surprise and fear seeing you. The elder queen scoffs, leaning back in her seat when she sees you enter. “Do you realize how long the kingdom has waited for you?” Her eyes were piercing, punching holes through your body.

“It’s been long since we’ve seen each other, Y/N. I think it’s time we discuss a little about the future of this land.” You met her icy gaze, the way she spoke without a care. “You’re right, mother.” you replied, taking a deep breath. “It’s been a long time since we’ve spoken, why don’t we catch up?” 

The elder queen’s eyes narrow. “You know what this is about?” You look a little confused, but before anything could be said Jungkook moves to your side abruptly, not wanting you there any further.

“This discussion is over.” He says, glaring at his mother, trying to assess dominance in front of the woman who brought him to this earth. “You think this discussion is over?” she asks unamused, rising from her seat. “This has to be discussed, Jungkook. We’ve waited long enough.” Jungkook clenches his jaw trying to pull you away from all the madness. 

“Are you with child?” She asks carelessly, stunning you at her sudden boldness. “Excuse me?” You could feel your chest tighten at her words, eyes widening in disbelief. “Are you with child?” The elder queen repeats, her tone impatient. You remain frozen, mind scrambling for a response.

“How could I be?” you respond, voice trembling slightly. "The kingdom needs an heir. You and Jungkook have been married long enough, where is the future descendant of this kingdom?” she adds nonchalantly.

Jungkook steps forward trying to shield you away from his mother’s harsh words. “It is not for you to decide when we should bear children, mother.” he says, making the queen chuckle. “She’s sick. How could she even bear children?” her words venomous, filled with disgust.

You felt the world spinning around you. What was all of this about? The future of the kingdom, an heir?  Your heart starts to quicken as the words sink in. “Y/N, you’ve done enough till now, I respect the work you’ve done for the good of the land. But we need someone to rule further.” His mother says, coming closer to you, her hand trying to grasp yours only to be stopped by Jungkook.

“The people are growing restless. If you cannot fulfill your duty as the queen, then we must take other measures, my dear.” she says, ignoring her son’s desperate actions in trying to stop her from reaching further to you. 

You wanted to argue with her, to defend yourself, but all your words were stuck in your throat. “Jungkook is still young, he can still provide children. All that I ask of you is to accept a small change in your life.”

She pulls you closer holding both of your hands in her. “Lady Yujin here is a nice girl. She is young and able to bear the child everybody wishes upon.” Your eyes widen, finally catching on her sick plan. You pulled your hands back slowly, taking a step back. “No.” you respond, shaking your head, body trembling with unknown emotions, trying to take in what was suddenly coming your way in rapid motion. 

“All that I ask is for you to agree on their marriage. She will bear an heir for the throne and then it’s your and Jungkook’s choice on what’s going to happen further, I won’t bother anymore.” She was calm in her words, a heartless woman hiding behind her facade. Your eyes begin to fill with tears. “No” you say once again shaking your head in denial. You turn your head to look at your husband, wondering about the emotions he holds in his eyes. “Jungkook…is this what you want?” You ask, defeated. Hoping for him to not be on the other side. He comes closer to you holding your arms, looking deeply into your eyes in desperation. “No, of course not!” Raw guilt was taking over him, he couldn’t find the words to reassure you, to explain that this wasn’t the choice he wanted to take.

You glanced at her, the woman who was meant to replace you, seeing her smile in victory made your stomach twist and turn. “I’m only here to help, Your Majesty. I’m sure we can come to an agreement that benefits everyone.” she says swiftly, eyes glinting with satisfaction. You could barely look at Jungkook now, the man you thought was your everything, the man you trusted above all. “You’re all so quick to tear me apart.” You say ripping yourself from his embrace.

“But it's your role as the king…” you say unsure, mixed feelings were creeping inside, his mother’s manipulation getting to you.

You bite your lip thinking about the situation. You know the harsh words of your people, the whispers, the stares. Your situation is uncertain and just for a split second your judgment is clouded. 

The persuasion of Jungkook’s mother, the suffocating stares of Yujin, Jungkook’s guilty eyes. You caved in, giving up your principles for the better of the kingdom, like any other queen would. You try to remain calm and think, but maybe you were not as strong as you thought. In a blink you cough, gasping for air. Jungkook rushes to your side before you manage to collide with the hard concrete, his arms wrapping around your frail frame. “Call the doctor!” he shouted, his voice frantic. 

"My love…" his voice trembling as he gently held you close to his beating heart. You could hear his voice, see the way he started to scream at his mom for making you go through this, his tears falling on your face, staining your cheeks.

Your ears were ringing louder and louder and looking at his worried face, your vision starting to blur until you could not hear or feel anything anymore. 

A deep slumber engulfing you.

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

It’s been 2 months since the incident has occurred. Ever since you’ve been on bed rest. The medicine you were taking was experimental since there was no known cure for what you had, it was to assume that side effects would appear sooner or later and after the shock you suffered, you decided to stay enclosed.

You received the news in your bed, in the end your husband succumbed to his mothers urgings, now married out of will to a second woman, the one who’s seen to bring peace and stability to the kingdom. A new hope.

Yujin quickly became loved by the people, showing up along with your husband to all the events you should’ve attended, stepping up on the duties you should care for.

She made the people feel safe again, making them forget the real queen they have, turning their back to you, wishing Yujin would take your spot forever. However, these were only what the outside could see, inside the palace was a nightmare. She was a vile woman, a two faced snake. After she got the taste of power she started showing her rotten self.

Nobody dared to speak in front of her, let alone oppose to any of her sayings. But with all the power she holds right now, she’s missing something she dearly desires, the key to your husband’s heart. Jungkook refused. 

He refused anything that has to do with her, to eat with her, hear her, see her, and clearly he refused to consummate his “marriage” making her rot in envy every time he came to spend time in your chamber.

He stayed by your side now, day by day, night by night. Lulling you to sleep when the pain was too much to bear, singing to you through the day if you felt upset or too sick. He showed you that no matter how many ups and downs he has, you’re still his number one priority. The person he deeply adored. You felt at peace now, Yujin’s arrival did not bring as much chaos as you thought, it only made your and Jungkook’s relationship grow stronger, blooming after years of being caged. She wanted him so much it made him run far away from her, deeper and deeper into your arms. It was evening right now, you were sitting in your bed like usual, feeling much better these days. Seol was sitting behind you, gently combing your hair, preparing you for your bath. “You look so pretty, my queen.” she murmurs. 

“Thank you, Seol,” you replied, gazing at your reflection in the window. “You’ve been glowing recently, I could see you’re getting better.” she chuckles softly, admiring you. “The medicine has been working so far, the doctor said it’s a promising solution.” Seol hums unconvinced with your excuses. “Are you sure that’s the reason, my lady? Your Grace has been visiting a lot lately, hasn’t he?”  she says, her tone a little teasing.

“He really has, hasn’t he? I was afraid she would steal him away, but it seems he carries no interest.” You felt a small sense of gratitude towards the two of them, the ones who stood beside you no matter what.

“I’ve heard Lady Yujin created a monstrous scandal just the other day. The king still not bedded with her, right?” you scoff at her boldness, since when did she become like this? “A little bold of you to ask your queen such things.” you say crossing your arms, trying to appear upset just to mess with her a little.

She gasps and stops her actions, coming to her senses about what came out of her mouth. “I-I’m so sorry! I should’ve never stepped this far! It’s not my business on what's happening in the king’s life, I’m so sorry!” She bows down, ashamed, making you burst into laughter, achieving with glory your goals. “I was just joking, I consider you my best friend Seol! Don’t be so rough around me, we already speak of all.” You tease back. “And to answer your question. No, he hasn’t. I think he never will.” You smile proudly, showing off your loyal husband before the reality starts to kick in again.

“But this doesn’t mean he’s doing it with me either. It’s been more than a year since we’ve been intimate with each other.” you sigh sadly, resting your head on your palm.

Seol looks up at you, her eyes soft with concern. “My lady, don’t let the distance get to you. You’ve both been through so much already, he must be afraid." she reasures you kindly. “Afraid of what exactly?” You both stop in your tracks, blush creeping up when Jungkook enters the room, confusion obvious on his face.

“Jungkook...” you start trying to collect your words but failing. Seol is quick to excuse herself and leave the room, but you have nowhere to go so you face the man. 

“I’m sorry for interrupting you two. But, Y/N...what is this about me being afraid of?” he comes closer to you, wondering what were you scheming behind his back. “We were having a one on one girl talk, clearly not your business.” You pout crossing your arms. He smiles briefly. “Hmm, I’ll let it slide this time, only because it was a girl talk.” He pats your head coming closer to leave a peck on your lips. “I see Seol prepared you for a bath, should I help you with it since she’s not here anymore?” he questions, making the air around you grow thick. Your heart skips a beat, he hasn’t seen you naked in a while, why now all of a sudden? 

“You don’t have to do that, I can manage myself!” You rush to say, feeling shy in front of him all. “What if I want to?” He teases, eyes shining with love when looking at you. And you shyly comply thinking it might be for the best to have him around, fastly getting your necessities and heading for the bath with your husband behind you.

Once you enter you slowly let the night gown fall to the floor, back facing the man. You take off your undergarments as well, a blush creeping on your cheek knowing he’s watching you undress, wondering what he thinks of you right now, seeing you so exposed in front of him.

“I’m shy.” you whisper. “Why? I’ve seen you before.” He’s quick to add without shame, a shiver coming up your spine at his seductive tone.

He comes from behind holding your hand, helping you hop into the bath, warm water engulfing your body. You look away for a second, hiding your breast with your hands, but quickly turning around when you hear the rustling of clothes echoing through the enclosed space.

He’s getting undressed. Jungkook watches you carefully, seeing your eyes preying on his body. “Like what you see?” He asks, amused. You lock eyes with him for a second before turning back around, hiding your red face from him.

“You’re a pervert.” He could hear you mumble. “You’re the one acting worse than on our first night together.” he responds, making you huff. “What’s gotten into you, it’s been long since we were this close…”

He tilts his head a little hurt by your words. “I know it’s been long, but do you not want me to be here?” you feel the guilt creep in, you should be grateful. He's trying to be close to you again and instead of letting him in your heart again you say rude words making him question his decisions. “I didn’t mean it like that.” you quickly clarify. “It’s just… it’s been so long since we were close like this. I wasn’t expecting you to be so… forward with it.” you finally admit. You look at him, his eyes are softly looking back at you. He doesn’t say much, only signaling you to make some space for his body to fit behind. You sit in silence, your body tense, hugging your knees close to your chest. Jungkook is spread behind you, his arms on each side of the tub, eyes closed. “Relax a little, will you? I won’t eat you.” you don’t trust his words, he’s scheming something. One of his arms comes closer to you, resting at the base of your neck, pulling you to lay your back on his chest. “I should’ve done this sooner. I missed being close to you.” He lets out a satisfied sigh, hands wrapping around your front, resting on your waist. 

Jungkook gently nuzzles his face into the back of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “I want you.” He says, making goosebumps erupt on the surface of your skin.

“Do you think we can?” He reluctantly asks, a sniff of persuasion hiding behind. You were melting into his touch, his hand trailing down slowly, caressing your closed thighs. “Can you? Hmm, love?” Your breath starts to hitch, the water feeling colder than your body temperature. You slowly open your legs, letting his hand touch your privates, opening a way for him. His fingers gently caress through your folds while his lips start to leave kisses on the back of your neck.

You gulp when his thumb comes in contact with your little bundle of nerves, a faint whimper leaving your lips. His other hand starts to cup one of your breasts, playing gently with it.

It's easy to say you were in a bliss, nothing you’ve felt before was making you feel as good as what the man you love was doing right now.  You didn’t want to stop, falling deeper into the haze. But just when everything starts to feel much sweeter, you hear a knock on your door, freezing you in place, making Jungkook’s finger stop right at your entrance, leaving you unsatisfied.

You whine loudly, hands covering your face in desperation. From the other side of the door you hear Seol’s voice asking for you, making you startle in fear. “Seol, stay outside!” you shout horrified that she might enter the room.

“Are you okay, my Lady? Why did you bathe alone, what if something would’ve happened?” She's always the one to accompany you when you bathe, just to make sure you won’t have any accidents. But now, Jungkook was here, it would be improper for her to walk on you two, especially during such lewd actions.

“Don’t worry, Seol, I’m with her.” Jungkook responds, annoyed himself, at the fact that he had to stop after managing so much persuasion.

Seol only rushes to get her words out once she finds out you two were bathing together, you could imagine her face being so red by the embarrassment.

“I w-will leave her in your care, your Majesty! I didn’t know, I’m so sorry! Oh heavens, I always come in at the wrong time!” her last phrase was probably for herself. 

“Seol, before you leave. I have a favor to ask. Tell the guards around to not come close to her royalty’s chamber tonight. Don’t disturb us until I come out and say so, understood?” You blush at his words, wondering what was going on in his mind. Seol on the other hand is even more flustered, catching what the king is about to do on first hearing. She excuses herself and leaves. Between you two is silence. You looked at him from over your shoulder, he was staring at you, half lidded, licking his lips when your eyes met. “I think we should get out right now.” He rises from the water, stepping outside of the tub, grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist in hurry. You look confused at him, you didn’t even wash properly. “But, we haven’t even washed…” Jungkook lends you his hand and you take it. He wraps another towel around you, showing you the way back to your room. “We will need to bathe later on anyway.” He says before gently laying you down on your bed. He gets rid of the towel, letting it pool at his feet, and then you see it. Standing proud and heavy, in all of its glory in front of you. Now you understand. 

He wants you in that way.

You blush, but hands work fast like a reflex, dragging the towel off of you, letting you naked in front of him as well. He comes closer, kneeling on your bed, above you. You raise your hands to touch his chest, fingers trailing down, but stopping right above his hardened member. “Don’t be a tease now.” he grunts. You smile, letting your hands gently grasp him, stroking him up and down, giving him what he wants. Jungkook looks at you from above and whimpers, you look so beautiful under him, stroking his cock up and down like the goddess you are, working him up like never before. “How should I serve you next, my king? Do you want my mouth?” You ask seductively. He smiles, dirty thoughts of you doing what he wants flooding his mind. He has to be tame though, your state is still not stable, he promised to take it easy. “It’s fine, how about I work you up a little instead? We want this to last without getting you too tired.” You let go of him, happiness feeling your veins knowing you have such a caring man beside you.

He leans down to land a kiss between your breasts, his hands finding their way back to where they were earlier. One of his fingers entering you eagerly, breaking a gasp and a loud moan from such unexpected intruding.

He comes back up, pushing a second one in, followed by a third. You were a moaning mess, trying to keep composure in front of him, but when his lips latch on your sweet spot you lose it, all the strings breaking in your body making you come undone under his touch.

“That was fast my love, was I too eager for you?” He is breathless as well, his cheeks and chest flushed with a red color. “It’s been long, I’m not used to the feeling anymore.” you barely manage to rip out.

He chuckles, taking his fingers out. “That’s funny, you took three of my fingers like they were nothing.” You whine at his teasing, body heating up quickly. He leans back, still on his knees looking at you from above.

“Look at all the mess you made.” you can’t manage to respond anymore since his hands grab your legs, spreading them nice for him to see. “I guess we should make even more now that we’re at it, don’t you think?” “Yeah, I would love that.” You say, biting your lower lip seductively, enticing him even more. “You’re the real definition of a pillow princess.” He looks at your body, beautifully spread beneath him, hair messy and all over the pillows in your bed, cheeks flustered and shiny arousal pooling between your legs. “Tell me to stop if it’s too much.” He says grabbing his member, aligning it to your entrance. “Don’t we need protection?” You suddenly ask, not wanting to break the mood, but also trying to be careful about your actions. He hums a little, slapping the head of his thick cock on your wetness before nudging your entrance with it. “Let’s not tonight.” He says before pushing in slowly, breaking a loud moan from you before bottoming out in one go. “Jungkook!” You scream, not in pain, but in so much pleasure you could already come again. Feeling him inside you, so raw, so real, clouding your mind breaking any rational thought you have left. Between you was a desire you never felt, a passion that took years to build up only to spill all over in this moment. His touch felt nauseating, his lips burned your skin with pure emotions, the stretching of his cock pushing through your walls just the right way.

You were on cloud nine, if not even further, lost somewhere in the universe, never wanting to return from such heights this man continued to rip out of you. You were loud, so loud you thought for a second the whole empire could hear you, could hear the way he claimed his only love, his only wife, his only queen.

Jungkook was lost too, his mind filled with the thought of you, the erotic images of your actions imprinting deep within his conscience, craving more of you. 

He also wanted to let everyone know, to know he was the only one he could make you feel this way and you were the only one who he would go unbelievable lengths to satisfy.

He didn’t want to be afraid anymore, you would have him by his side for the rest of your life long or short, and after that he would not be this close with anyone ever again. You were close once again, this time he was too. You can’t even remember how many times you were at breaking point tonight, coming undone under him and his intoxicating touch.

 “Jungkook, I’m so close, don’t stop.” you pant trying to regain your breath. The boy does not stop, pleasing you, keeping his peace, feeling his climax coming just as close.

In bliss you both moan loudly, coming together. His breath rages, sweat dripping from his forehead onto your chest. He kisses you once again, making sure you’re safe and alright in his arms.

And then, when you both regain a bit of composure you go again, over and over, loving each other all night long until both of you can’t take it anymore. Just him making sure you feel all the love you’ve been missing for the past two years.

…

On the other side of the castle, news flow rapidly, arriving in the end at the ears of the other “queen”.

“Does he think I’m a fool?!” she hisses, her voice harsh. Her maiden bows in respect for her. “Where have you heard such news anyways?” she asks, looking at her reflection in the vanity mirror. “My lady, the queen’s maiden has come out rushing and telling everybody not to come close to her chamber.” “She told everyone to stay away from her chamber?” she questions, her voice low and dangerous. Her maiden nodes hesitantly. “Yes, my lady. They say His Majesty is inside with her... and has been for hours now.”

Yujin’s anger was boiling over. It’s been two months since their wedding officiated, and ever since he had refused her presence entirely. She felt insulted, the thought of the king being intimate with the other woman and not with her was driving her crazy.

“Of course, he’s with her.” she spat. “I was promised a place here to bear an heir, yet he’s still clinging to that pathetic excuse of a woman!” Her maiden kept her gaze down, her hands trembling slightly as she fondled with the hem of her dress.

“How long would he keep going on with this? He finally sees her now?” “My lady.” the maiden whispers with a quivering voice. “Perhaps, if you showed patience, His Majesty might…” Yujin cut her off. “Patience? Does he think I’ll simply stand by and watch while he engages with her?” she was enraged by the thought. “Or perhaps the king is only showing pity.” The maiden tries to reassure only to be met with more explosive feelings. 

“Do you think pity is what drives a man to spend hours behind locked doors? Forgetting who he should sleep with in order to get that damned heir? ” She scoffed bitterly, rising from her chair. The girl lowers her head further, wishing she could disappear. “I-I only meant that His Majesty might be torn, my lady. The queen has been with him for so long and he’s been neglecting her.” 

“She’s weak!” Yujin snapped. “Nothing but a disgusting living corpse! How could he engage with her?!” she says while placing through her room. “Perhaps...it is not about what she gives him, but what she means to him.” the maiden suggests.

Yujin freezes mid-step, her eyes narrowing as she turns to face the girl, coming dangerously close to her. She was blinded by the goals she has to achieve, madness driving into her.

“Are you suggesting that she is somehow…irreplaceable?” 

“N-no, my lady!” The girl stammered. “I only think that since they’ve been together for long, their bond might be hard to break.” 

“Silence!” The woman shouts out, sharp and commanding, making the poor girl shiver. “He must come to his senses. This kingdom needs me, only me!” she turns around looking at her reflection through the mirror. “I’ve had enough of this waiting. If His Majesty won’t act, then I will.” Yujin says, lips curled into a sinister smile.

“What will you do, my lady?” the maiden asks cautiously. “I’ll just remind Jungkook that this kingdom’s future depends on me, not on a woman who can’t even stand on her own two feet let alone bear his children.”

“Mark my words,” she said softly, almost to herself. “Before long, I’ll be the only queen this kingdom knows.”

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

Morning came by fast, the rays of sun burning on your cheek. You whine trying to move only to find yourself trapped under a muscular body. Your eyes flutter open to find Jungkook sprawled on top of you, sleeping soundly. 

You brush your hand through his hair, taking in the sight of him being so calm. It felt surreal, as if the weight of the world outside this room didn’t exist, the only place being in the warmth of his arms. “Good morning,” you murmured, seeing him stir in his sleep. “Morning, love,” he whispered, his voice deep and husky. You tried to wiggle out from under him, but he only held you tighter. “Where do you think you’re going?” he teased, nuzzling into your neck. “Let’s just stay a little longer like this.” his voice still laced with sleep. The room quiets down, you close your eyes, enjoying Jungkook's presence just a little more.  “Last night...” he began, his tone teasing. “It was the best sleep I’ve had in years.” His smile was cocky. “And not just because of the other things we did.” You have blush creeping up your neck as you avoided his gaze. 

“It’s because for the first time, I felt like I had you back. Like nothing else around mattered.” he said looking at you with such sincerity in his eyes. 

“Well.” you started, “Maybe we’ll have more nights like this.” you say shyly, still avoiding his gaze. He grins as he pulls your naked bodies closer together. “Careful what you promise, my queen,” he teased. “I might hold you to it.” Both of you smile as you melt away into one another. You stayed in his arms all morning, until he was ready to get back to his duties. 

…

Jungkook made his way down the halls of the palace after working hard all day. He had in mind one thing, to get some comfortable clothes and come around to see what his sweet wife was doing.

But as he approached his chambers, he noticed the door was slightly open. Without thinking much, he pushes through the door, expecting his adviser or some maid to be in it. To his surprise, on his bed was seated Yujin. Jungkook froze for a moment wondering who allowed her to enter his room. “What are you doing here?” His tone was sharp while talking to her, devoid of any emotion.

“I came to talk,” she said simply, her eyes burning holes in the man. “You should leave, Yujin. I have nothing to say to you.” His words were cold. The girl rises from his bed, coming closer to him, her eyes locking with his. 

“You’ve refused me for months, my Grace. Is this your way of bringing good to the people?” she continued, her voice tainted with frustration. By this time his patience was running low as well, tired of having to deal with her.

“What do you expect exactly?” Jungkook asks, folding his arms. “One night. Give yourself to me for one night and that’s all.” she whispers seductively, hands caressing his arms.

“I thought I made myself clear already. I want nothing to do with you.” he pushes her aside, resuming his task, his body craving something else, someone else. 

“You’re lying to yourself.” she murmured, grabbing his sleeve. “You can pretend all you want, but I know what you need. And right now, it’s not her. I could give you something she can’t, a bliss you never felt.” She persuades, making the man clench his jaw in annoyance. 

"Leave." he commanded, his voice controlled, cold as ice. “Have you really bedded with her?” she asks all of a sudden, not wanting to believe the rumors that were going around. “You don’t get to question me about what I do.” he hisses back. “I didn’t want to believe it at first, but I’ve heard you spent the whole night in her chamber.” Her words were bitter, she didn’t want to accept it. “Yujin!” 

Jungkook shouts, startling her. “You do not get to question what I do, especially with my wife!” “I am also your wife! Why are you playing only on one side, Jungkook!” He raises his hand, making her flinch. He felt pity bubble in the bottom of his stomach at that moment, he took a deep breath tone lowering even deeper if possible. 

“I will tell you this, once. Only Y/N can call me Jungkook. You never…never, dare to use my name again!.” His hand combs through his hair in frustration. “Second, I do not want to see you around again, I told you I have no interest in being involved with you. The only woman that I want is Y/N, she is your queen.” 

Yujin stood frozen, her fists clenched at her sides as Jungkook’s words pierced through her like daggers, a mixture of disbelief and anger blooming into her, but she couldn’t fight back. She pushed his limits way too far already, even though the two were married she could still be punished for coming against the king. 

She bit down her bottom lip bowing to him then leaving his chamber, tears spilling in anger. Her mind was already thinking of what steps she needs to take next in order for him to fall in her trap and ensure her duty is accomplished.

She entered her room, throwing her stuff on the floor in rage, the commotion making her maiden, Byeol, come to see what’s going on. Her eyes widened in concern seeing the state of her lady. 

Yujin took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "He’s chosen her." she hissed through clenched teeth, "I will make him regret this. I will show him I’m the better one to stay by his side!” her breath was ragged, trying desperately to keep composure. Yujin faces Byeol, her eyes darkening, an evil plan scheming in her mind. “Bring me the royal doctor.” she says, her voice cold and determined, making the maiden shiver in fear. “I have a plan that’s going to end all this havoc for good.”

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

For the next few days neither of you were bothered by Yujin, which makes you feel uneasy, wondering if she’s really given up or not. Jungkook, however, we could say his mood has been lighter without having her on his back all the time. He was preparing for something else anyway. Your 5th wedding anniversary. The palace hasn’t held the annual banquet for this celebration since you’ve fallen ill, but this year, with your approval, he decided to enlighten the people and show them that you are fastly recovering, coming even stronger than before. The palace buzzed with activity as preparations for the grand banquet began, he’s gotten busy enough through the day, but he managed to always join your side at night.

The servants hurried through the halls, carrying colorful dresses and fragrant flowers. Everyone was looking forward to such a night. In your room the atmosphere was even more chaotic, this being the 10th dress you tried on only to discard it with upset. “This is not it!” you huff making Seol lose her mind, the dresses supplies becoming limited. “My queen, please decide upon one. We have no more left!” she says, making you let out a frustrated sigh. “It’s not about the dress anymore.” you mumble, throwing yourself on your bed. You wanted to look good tonight, to impress all the guests and mostly your husband.

You growl a soft knock interrupting your sulking. But before you could respond, Jungkook steps in “Am I interrupting?” he asks, leaning casually against the doorframe.

“No…I’m just trying to find the right dress.” you replied disappointed, eyes staring at the ceiling above. “No luck until now? I’ve sent you loads of dresses.” you whine rolling on your tummy, looking outside the window. “She’s been trying for three hours already and no luck.” Seol stays exhausted.

“Y/N, my love.” he coos sitting next to you, patting your back gently. “You know you could be dressed in a potato sack and I will still think you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes upon?” he says while you pull slightly at your hair in desperation.

“I just want everything to be perfect.” you sadly whimper, making him chuckle. “How about this one then?” He picks the last dress from the stall. A beautiful and pretty simple white gown.

“I think you will look like an angel in this one. Want to try it on for me?” he asks, raising a brow.

“Won’t this make me look like a bride?” you question and he smiles. “I think this will be a good reference, my beautiful bride.” you laugh and grab the dress. “I’ll try it on then.”

Seol helps you in it, tying the corset and putting a frame under it to puff it up a little. You look in the mirror, the dress was indeed beautiful, soft fabric flowing gently down your body, it made you seem so pure, so alive. 

Jungkook slowly steps behind you, his hands resting gently on your waist. “There she is, my beautiful wife.” he says, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror’s reflection, looking at you with true adoration. “Thank you.” you say, turning to him, his lips pecking yours slowly. “I should let you get ready, the banquet is close to starting.” satisfied the man leaves your room leaving you to resume your preparation. As the time drew near, you also grew more nervous. Finding yourself in front of the door almost made you turn around. “Don’t be nervous!” Seol urged, pushing some courage towards you. “This is your night.” she puts her hand over yours before arranging the last piece of your outfit, something that has been missing from your head for a long time, a crown.

You took a deep breath and entered the room, the grand hall quieting when they saw you at the top of the stairs. You look down, spotting many familiar figures, the one of your husband’s catching your eyes, taking your breath away. Jungkook was waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs, his hand reaching for you to take it.  The soft sound of your heels against the marble floor take over the room, whispers erupting around. When you reach him, he takes your hand, pressing a kiss on your ring finger before turning to address the crowd. “The queen has arrived!” A wave of applause and cheers fill the room, people enchanting “All hail the queen!” making you tear up in surprise, grateful to see you were not well forgotten. You could see genuine smiles on many faces, their respect and affection for you evident. “Shall we open the banquet with a dance? What do you think?” Jungkook leads you to the center of the room, your beauty shining brighter in the dim lights. The music starts and you let yourself get carried away by your husband’s lead. More and more people joining along. It felt magical, something so memorable you could remember it for years. You chatted away all night, catching up with important nobles, everyone showed so much love towards you…well, almost everyone. In the corner of the room, a black dress decorated with many precious stones and expensive jewelry prepared for a big showoff, a glass of blood like wine in her hand. Yujin.

Her fingers tighten around the glass, eyes burning on you, seeing you so full of life all of a sudden. She was surrounded by a few nobles who attempted to be polite with her but only managed to get on her nerves. 

“She looks radiant, doesn’t she?” one of the women remarked, glancing at you speaking with the crowd. “Yes.” Yujin replied through gritted teeth, her gaze unwavering. “Radiant indeed.”

Byeol was sitting right behind, her fingers playing nervously with the bottle in her pocket. “My lady, your plan…” she leans in to whisper.

“Not yet,” Yujin muttered, her voice low and calculated. “Let her enjoy it a little more, it will be her last moment after all.” she adds, her actions dangerous. The evening carried on beautifully, the grand hall brimming with music, laughter, and conversation. You felt alive again, dearly missing such events in your now dull life. Jungkook remained by your side as you engaged with the guests, from time to time asking about your condition only to hear you’ve never felt as alive as now. He smiled looking down at you, his heart at peace knowing you were shining again, soon the servants started to bring more glasses into the room, people holding toasts in your honor. The servant stopped near you and Jungkook, offering the drinks. He took one, raising it slightly toward you. “To us” he whispered, his eyes sparkling with affection. You smiled, reaching for your own, but before you can grasp it the sound of broken glass startles you. Red liquid spilling at your feet, the bottom of your dress staining in it, shiny shards flickering into the bright fluid. “Oh! My lord!” You hear the commotion, at the bottom of your feet collapsed Yujin, her hand trembling as red wine mixed with the crimson of her blood. "My lord…" she gasps, vividly scared. “The glass…it broke."

You looked down at her, wondering what to do. The room was tense, the whispers of the guests growing louder. “The poor woman.” someone murmured. “Why isn’t the king helping her?”.

“You’re bleeding.” he sys, his voice calm but distant, barely reaching out to her. She starts to cry, sobbing in fear, putting on a show for everyone to see, her maiden pacing worriedly around. 

“You should call the doctor, take her to her room, My Lord, she’s bleeding out!” she says in panic. Jungkook looks at you for a second, searching for your reaction, before he helps her back on her feet, his clothes staining with blood. 

“Jungkook.” you say softly, placing a hand on his arm. “I’ll be back, I’m taking her to her chamber.” he lets out a breath, his expression unreadable.

“Please, forgive me.” Yujin whimpers, her voice frail. “I didn’t mean to disturb your celebration.” she says towards you before leaving along with your husband, a glint of evil lying under her fake facade, her hidden grin making a shiver run down your spine.

You look at them as they leave the grand hall, the murmurs growing louder, leaving you exposed under the glares of the crowd. Seol steps closer, her hand brushing your arm gently trying to reassure that everything was going to be alright, but you were not at peace, heath hammering in your chest with a bad feeling.

You stayed calm on the outside, telling people to enjoy what was left of the night, every now and then looking towards the big doors, waiting for your husband’s return not knowing it will be all in vain.

He didn’t return.

You wanted to leave, to go and search for him, but you had a party to lead now so instead, you sent Seol to look after him, hoping something bad didn’t happen.   After a couple more hours of agonizing wait you said goodbye to the last guests, the banquet finishing earlier under the worry of your sickness. You left in a rush, looking for Seol, she was nowhere to be found either.

You get back to your chamber, rushing panic flowing into your veins. Should you go search for him some more, perhaps visit his chamber? You gulp, hand cupping your throbbing heart, fear creeping through the cracks of your body.

You jump on your feet when you see the door of your room peaking open, someone falling at the step, a hand showing through the open crack. You rush towards them, opening widely just to be met with a horrifying sight. “Jungkook!” you scream, leaning down to grab the man by the arm, the high temperature of his body hitting you in an instant. He looks up at you, sweat dripping down his forehead, breath raging wild. His eyes were half lidded, barely gazing at you through his lashes. “Do not believe it…I didn’t do anything…” these were the only words he could say, it was like he is in a trance only chanting for you not to believe. You look outside, hoping to see someone, something, the hall was empty. You drag his body inside, taking in more of his ravished look. His shirt was fully unbuttoned chest on full display, so were his pants, his underwear peeking through the gap in the front. He was bright red and breaking in a sweat. For a second you wondered if he’s gotten sick from something, but when he laid down on your bed you could see his raging bulge trying to break free. You didn’t know what to do or say, what happened in the time he was missing? Why was he in such state? You look back for a second, biting your lip, you should go and ask for the doctor. But when you try to take your first step, his hand drags you down, making you fall on top of him.

“Help me.” he whispers. “It hurts…” you look apologetical at him, your feelings running wild with worry. “What happened to you?” you manage to ask, but to no avail. His hands grip the sleeves of your dress, pulling them down your arms, undressing you. “Jungkook, answer me!” you don’t fight back his touch, but you are worried, not knowing what you have to deal with. He only mumbles incoherent words, lips latching onto your neck, sucking purple bruises down your throat.

“Just help me, please.” He whines, his hand rubbing his prominent bulge searching for some relief. You gulp, putting your own hand over it. “We shouldn’t do this, I don’t know what are you on. I should call the doctor.” but despite that you still caress his throbbing member in hope of making him feel better.

“I need you. Now. Just…Y/N, please…” he struggles to take off his clothes while you watch, once naked he lies down in your bed, his eyes closed. “Come on top.” he motions with two fingers towards you. You sigh and take off your dress, climbing gently on top of him.

“This is like our first night together.” he smiles brightly, making you chuckle in slight embarrassment with the thought of such memory. With a little of his help you push his aching cock inside, whimpering at the stretch. He moans loudly, feeling his pressures being relieved. “Good job, baby. Now bounce a little.” He seems completely out of it, but somehow he still takes control over what you do, fully aware of what are you engaging in. 

You adjust for a second before you take on, rising from his member until only his hot tip remains inside before bottoming out in one go, ripping loud moans and whimpers out of your chests.

His hands find their way on your waist, helping with your movement, his hips jerking up every now and then, adding to the feeling. 

The moonlight was shining upon your naked forms, beams of light reflecting beautifully onto your glittering bodies. “You look like you’re made of glass.” He says, eyes lingering lazily, seeing you deliciously bounce up and down on his cock, enjoying yourself.

“Such beautiful skin, shining brightly into the moonlight, I could stare at you forever, my love.”

You whine, feeling closer to your release, his words almost bringing you over the edge. His hand starts to caress your sides, working higher and higher, fingers dancing on your skin leaving a lingering feeling.

“Are you really made of glass?” he asks in a daze while rising in a sitting position, sticking his chest close to yours, holding you close.

“You’re beautiful…my glass queen.” he whispers, lips catching yours in a fiery kiss, passionate but gentle, handling you with such care, wondering if you are really going to break under his touch.

“Jungkook…” your mind was clouding, coming closer and closer to the feeling you were eager to know once again, the man showing signs of being even further on this height while being held in your embrace.

Without any care and only with another passionate kiss you come undone, body trembling under his touch. Him following, spilling hot inside of you, letting his head rest on your shoulder while trying to search for air.

“My queen…my only queen.” he kept mumbling until he fell limp on your bed, you following right after, too tired to search for answers in the moment. His touches detach you from reality, making you forget the events that have happened tonight.

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

When the morning came again you realized Jungkook didn’t remember a thing. He woke up with a throbbing headache wondering how and when he got into your bed. 

He couldn’t remember anything after he left with Yujin. You realized. “You really don’t remember?” you ask cautiously, slight guilt crawling into you. “Not a thing. She hurt herself and I took her to her room, I can’t remember what happened after that.” His jaw clenches trying to piece together the fragments of his memory. “What did she do to me?” he wonders. Your stomach twists, trying hard to digest the knot that formed in it. “Should we talk to her?” you ask with worry, a heavy silence breaking between you two.

“Or do we speak to the guards, the servants, anyone who might’ve seen or heard something?” this reminded you, where is Seol. “I’ve also sent Seol to look after you, she’s not since returned!” You rise from the bed in hurry, dressing in the first gown you see. The two of you rush through the palace, your steps dragging you towards the chamber that started all of this, eager to find answers. 

Just your luck you thought, her maiden was just leaving the room as you two arrived. Byeol froze, immediately bowing down to you. “You Majesties, what brings you two here?” she hesitantly greeted. “Where is Yujin, I need to talk to her.” says Jungkook in a demanding tone. “Lady Yujin is resting, she’s had a hard night, my Lord. Don’t you remember?” she says with a coy smile. “A little cut won’t need that much bed rest.” his tone laced with skepticism. Byeol hesitates for a split second, thinking, before being interrupted by the door opening.

“What’s with all the noise, I need peace and quiet!” Yujin emerges through the room, her expression one of irritation before laying her eyes on Jungkook, a shy blush appearing on her face.

“My lord, I didn’t expect to see you so soon.” she says putting a strand of hair behind his ears. “So soon?” your husband questions.

“Oh, my poor king! You were so exhausted, I’m not surprised you don’t remember.” she says with smooth words, excitement in her voice.

“Though…I’m a little sad, I thought you'd be happier knowing we consummated our marriage.” she says with an embarrassed look, her eyes meeting yours.

You take a step back gasping, eyes widening in shock at what you heard. Has Jungkook slept with her? 

“What did you just say?” he asked, just as stunned. “You were so tender with me last night. It was beautiful. Just as I always imagined it would be.” Her eyes flicked between you two for the brief moment, a spark of triumph obvious in her eyes. You felt your heart drop, staring at your man you could see his knuckles turn white. “Stop lying, I didn’t do anything with you!” he growls at her.

Yujin’s expression falters for a moment “My king, why would I lie about such a thing? Wasn’t this the reason I am here in the first place, the elder queen would be thrilled to find out I’ll bring an honorable heir to this world.” 

“You really think I’d believe that?” Jungkook snaps, his voice rising. “She’s lying. Whatever she claims...it’s not true. I swear to you, Y/N.” he says, turning around, his eyes searching for yours. “I feel sick.” you say, nausea overwhelming you as your knees threaten to collapse. Jungkook reaches for you instantly “Don’t trust her, you know I would never dare.” his dark eyes bore into yours, pleading for your trust. You wanted to trust him, the memories from last night kept playing in your head “Do not believe it…I didn’t do anything…” that’s what he kept telling you.

“I’m going to throw up, you say in a rush.” shoving Jungkook away from you kneeling to the ground, your stomach twisting in a hurry. 

Jungkook immediately kneels beside you, his hands hovering over your back, unsure if you’d let him touch you any further. You clutch your stomach, trying to calm the turmoil within but failing miserably.

You closed your eyes, the room spinning as you try to steady yourself. “Let’s get you back to your room, I’m calling the doctor. You’re clearly unwell.” He picks you up hurrying to bring you back to the safety of your bed, ordering Byeol to bring the doctor. Yujin is also quick in her steps, following you two trying to look concerned about your situation.

“I don’t need you here!” argues your husband when the mistress enters the room behind. “I only want to help!” she argues back, but deep inside her she just wished to witness if these were your final moments. “Please, just try to relax. The doctor will be here soon.” he calms you down seeing you twist around in your bed, moaning in pain. In a matter of seconds Byeol and the doctor enter the room, both filled with concern. Your Majesty, let me see where it hurts.” he checks up on you briefly before his eyes widen in realization, urging everyone outside the room. Outside the air was tensionate, Jungkook pacing restlessly, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he shot anxious glances towards the door, hoping he could receive a quicker response regarding your well-being.

Yujin stood in the corner, arms crossed over her chest, huffing every time her eyes landed on the man, upset she couldn’t get his attention.  "Why are you so worried?" She finally breaks the silence making him stop in his tracks. “She’s just having a rough moment, my lord. There’s no need to be so dramatic." she scoffs, making the boy's sharp gaze snapp to her.

“You think this is just a rough moment?” he was on the edge, closer to bursting in anger than he was ever before. “You need to stop with this Yujin. All that’s coming out of your mouth are lies.” he says through gritted teeth, his patience running thin. “You did something to me didn’t you? Yesterday, after I took you out of the grand hall.” he finally asks. “Oh? I did something to you? If I remember correctly I only brought you a few hours of pure bliss my king, too bad it slipped your mind.” she steps closer, her fingers drawing circles on his clothed chest.

“You want me to remind you what we did? How lewd we were?” Yujin’s lips curled into a sneaky smile.

“You’re delusional.” Jungkook says, backing away from her. “Mark my words. I’ll never, in my whole life, engage with someone like you.” “You can’t deny what happened between us. Soon you’ll see the sweet fruit of our labor.” the girl says, making Jungkook’s face twist in disgust.

He wanted to fight back again, to get the answer he desired, but the door of your chamber opened, the doctor showing up with an unreadable expression.

“The queen…” he starts, Jungkook’s stomach dropping with concern. The doctor hesitates for a brief moment, seeming to choose his words carefully before erupting into a heartfelt laughter. “The queen is with child.”

Jungkook’s heart skips a beat at the announcement, his mind struggling to process the doctor’s words. "With child?" he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper, a dumb smile on his face in realization. The doctor smiled kindly at him. “Yes, my king. The queen is expecting. Congratulations!”

A child. His heir. The future of this kingdom. All from the woman he loves most.

He rushes inside the room seeing you waiting patiently on the bed, your hand caressing your belly. “My love!��� He says, throwing himself at the edge of the bed. He sobbed in happiness, your hand caressing the top of his head in confort. He could hardly contain his happiness. His child. Your child.

“Thank you.” he says softly, kissing the back of your hand. “Thank you for this blessing.” tears build up into his eyes, this was the beginning of your future, nothing and nobody could change it.

"Rest now, my queen." he soothes you softly, his voice calm, yet holding so much love. "We have so much to look forward to." he kisses your temple, then your eyes, and then your lips. You felt joy, so much joy, but also worry, mind lingering on Yujin and her words and also wondering about Seol’s whereabouts.

There were many things that needed to be solved, but for now you need to rest, to protect the life you are carrying in your womb.

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

A ceremony was held in honor of you after the news broke out. The word about your pregnancy spread like wildfire through the royal court and with it came waves of happiness and anticipation for the future of the kingdom. Soon after it was also announced that Yujin was also expecting, leaving the world in shock of how something like this would happen at the same time. Jungkook was critiqued behind closed doors.

He remained resolute though. In private, he only held you close, making sure you felt his unwavering support. You trusted him, you promised to do so.

You knew what Yujin was capable of and even if a part of you felt uneasy, you knew it was for the greater good to not think about her.

As the days passed, Yujin’s presence in the palace became increasingly uncomfortable for you. It was because of her bold attempts to maneuver her way into Jungkook’s life. Every time there was happiness for you it felt like it got stolen away by her.

She seemed to be everywhere you went, when servants made remarks about how beautiful you looked with your growing belly, she’d swoop in with her own subtle reminder that she’s also carrying the king's child.

You tried to ignore her, but the more you tried, the more her presence became impossible to escape. Every time you found a moment of peace with your husband, she included herself demanding his attention.

It wore you down, slowly and methodically. At night, you would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, trying to quiet the unease that bubbled inside you.

When you would hear Yujin’s laughter echoing through the halls, or see her standing too close to Jungkook, a cold sense of dread would settle over your chest. You felt like you were battling a whole army with bare hands, and it didn’t help that you also lost your trusty maiden in the process.

Seol’s absence felt like the final blow to your morale, the one thing you didn’t expect. Her sudden disappearance left you vulnerable wondering who else was there to trust? You felt isolated. 

Staying in the garden, with Jungkook by your side, holding your hand, his thumb gently caressing it, you felt secure, his presence bringing you the comfort you needed.

The atmosphere was peaceful, a gentle breeze blowing through your hair, the smell of fresh growing leaves invading your senses.

But close enough the beautiful scenery was disturbed by a surprising presence. “Mother.” Jungkook says, walking towards to greet her in surprise.

“Jungkook, my son, Y/N.” She says, her gaze lingering on you for a moment, a little warmer than before. “I trust you are well, my daughter?” “Yes mother.” You say, bowing slightly but being interrupted by the growth of your child. The elder queen’s lips curl slightly as she looks at you. “You seem healthy.” The elder queen was not one to express warmth without reason, her words made your heart race. “This child has cured me, I’m no longer ill.” you smile caressing your belly. “It is my blessing.” The Queen’s gaze softens for a second. “A blessing indeed.” she murmurs before turning to her son. “How about Yujin, how come you don’t care for her like you do for Y/N?” she asks. “I’ve made myself clear, mother.” the boy replies. “Yujin is no longer of importance to me.” not like she ever was in the first place, he thought “My priorities lie with Y/N and our child.”.

The elder queen’s lips twitch. “She’s also pregnant with your child, Jungkook.” The mention of Yujin’s pregnancy brings a wave of sadness over you, knowing you have to share this spot for the rest of your life.

“The thing she’s carrying is not my son or daughter.” he fights back coldly. 

“Are you certain of that, Jungkook? She recalls you don’t remember, but she’s for sure with child, the doctor confirmed.” 

“It’s fine, mother.” Yujin’s voice echoes through the garden, making her appearance. “The king clearly cares only for one of his offspring. I’ve learned to accept it.” she says, her tone sad, bitter.

“You should care for both Jungkook, don’t ignore your duties.” the mother scolds him. “I’ve told you, it’s not my child. I won’t care for it.” he firmly declares.

Yujin’s laugh was dry, void of any humor. “Just because you can’t remember doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. I’m pregnant too, can’t you see?”. “He’s right, though. It didn’t happen, not how you wanted at least.” Someone interrupts, the new voice was calm but firm, and it belonged to none other than Seol.

"Seol?" you whisper, disbelief washing over you, tears burning into your eyes in happiness. Yujin’s confidence wavered when seeing the maiden."What are you doing here?" she hisses, her tone far less composed now.

“I’m here to reveal the truth you’ve worked so hard to bury. You thought you could silence me by having me removed from the palace? Locked far away from my queen?”

Seol turns her gaze to Jungkook, bowing deeply in front of him. “Your Majesty." she says, taking a step closer.

“She’s drugged you with aphrodisiac.” Everyone freezes at her crude statement. “What?” Your husband questions. “The court physician unknowingly provided her with herbs meant to ‘ease her nerves’ but they were mixed with potent aphrodisiacs. She slipped it into your drink the night of the banquet.”

Your heart pounded in your chest with ease, the pieces of Yujin’s scheme finally falling into place.

“You’re lying!” she screeches, her voice desperate “You’re just a servant! How dare you accuse me of such a thing? I am a queen!”

“I dare!” Seol shoots back. “I have proof, one of the guards has seen all.” Yujin stammers trying to find an excuse, her eyes darting between Seol, Jungkook, and the elder queen, searching for an escape.

“That means nothing! He didn’t want to bed with me! She turns to the elder queen, her voice now a frantic plea. “It’s still his child after all! That can’t be denied!”

The maiden scoffs. “No, it isn’t.” she growls at her. “He left you, he fought back until he arrived at my lady’s room. You wanted to take advantage of him, but even with a clouded mind he still only thought of one woman, the only one he loves.” she says pointing towards you.

“Since the guard has seen he threatened to turn you out, but you paid and promised him a good life if he gave you what you wanted. The child you’re carrying.”

Gasps echo through the garden, and all eyes turned to Yujin, who stood frozen in shock, her face pale. “You’re bluffing!” the woman shrieks, desperate and wild. “You have no proof! This is just another ploy to ruin me!” “The physician and the guard are ready to testify before the court. He’s also here demanding to claim his child.”

Seol confirms, making way for the guard to enter. His first instinct was to throw himself at your feet, pleading at the king to not behead him for his unfathomable actions against him.

“It’s true.” the man declares, his head on the ground. “I am the father of the child she carries. I have betrayed you my king, I beg for your mercy.” The silence that followed was deafening.

Yujin stumbles back, her composure crumbling as her face twists in panic. “N-No! He’s lying! H-He’s trying to destroy me!”

The elder queen’s cold gaze fell on her, unseen fury hiding behind her eyes. “Enough!” she commands “You’ve deceived us all, Yujin! Your lies end here.”she turns to the guard, raising his head from the ground.

“You swear this is the truth?”“I swear on my honor, Your Majesty. She sought me out in her desperation to fulfill your wishes. I could only comply, I was a weak man.” Yujin’s knees buckle, her body hitting the ground, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Guards, take them away!” Jungkook commands, all of you witnessing them being taken away.

Seol turns to you and bows deeply. “My queen, I only wish I could have acted sooner.” she says with sadness in her tone. “You must have endured so much.”

You step forward, your hand resting lightly on her shoulder in reassurance. “Thank you, Seol. You’ve done more than anyone could ask.”

Jungkook approaches, wrapping an arm protectively around you, resting his head on your chest. “It’s finally over, my love.” you smile looking at the family you were building, at the man you never failed to trust. 

Jungkook turns towards Seol, his hand resting on top of her hair, blessing her. “Seol, you’ve proven your loyalty to this family and this kingdom. You’ll be rewarded for your bravery.”

The elder queen approaches you with an apologetic look. “This child you carry is a symbol of hope, a way to your strength.” she begins

“I hope you can spare me some forgiveness for all my wrongdoings.” her hands clasp in front of her showing vulnerability.

“Forgiveness is not something I withhold, mother, but it requires time. You’ve hurt us dearly.” She understands you, stepping back, giving you the space you need. It takes time to heal after everything you’ve gone through, perhaps, you can forgive her one day.

You feel hopeful now, the events being a lesson from where you learnt great knowledge. They’ve taught you about loyalty, love, and resilience, lessons that will guide you as a mother, as a queen, and as a partner to the man who has stood by your side. 

The sun bathed the palace in its golden light. In that moment you smiled at him, taking his hand into yours, looking lovingly into his eyes, seeing not only a new beginning, but also a future greater than you had ever dared to imagine. In the end, you truly were The Glass Queen, not frail and delicate, but someone who shines the brightest, even after the most treacherous storms.

[reysdriver]

okay, just thinking about some celebrity daring to hit on sirius and he's like "bitch??" and then immediately runs to tattoo reader's name (VERY BIG) on the left side of his chest, right over his heart! and since he takes off his shirt at every show, everyone can enjoy the view (reader is also taken by surprise, she gets very horny if you ask me

Sirius shows the world where his passion lies — rockstar!sirius x reader fluff

warnings: allusions to sex, very suggestive

words: 1k

a/n: I love this request so much omggg that is such a Sirius thing to do (I could see James doing it too actually) but it's just PERFECT. I did change it a bit by making reader know about it beforehand but I hope it's still good! Also horny part 2 maybe... idk yet

You came back to the hotel room with coffee in your hand, a bag of pastries in your purse, and a tabloid magazine under your arm. 

With The Marauders on tour, you’ve been living out of suitcases with your boyfriend and your friends for the last couple weeks. You’ve all been sharing sleep schedules with wolves, staying up until dawn and sleeping later than everyone else in whatever city you were staying in. 

That’s precisely why you left to grab breakfast at eleven in the morning and Sirius was still fast asleep. 

By the time you got back, you walked in to find Sirius wide awake, but still in bed, tangled in the bedsheets. 

“Good morning, love.” Sirius said, shirtless with one hand behind his head. 

“It was a good morning.” You teased, tossing him the magazine. “Then I saw you in the news.”

“Me?” He feigned surprise. It wasn’t at all uncommon for Sirius to be in the news or the tabloids, but it was usually for something he did, not some pop princess who writes songs you get tired of after two listens. 

Sirius sat up and scanned the front page, curious as to what was going on. 

Mary Macdonald makes her move on rock star Sirius Black; New musical romance in the works?

The caption was sitting atop a picture of the popstar in question onstage at a concert, her crop top showing off a fake tattoo on her abdomen with text reading Reserved 4 Sirius Black alongside an arrow pointed down. 

“Oh, come on.” Sirius laughed, throwing the paper to the end of the bed. “This is what got you all bothered?”

You set your purse down and brought the coffee and pastries over to your boyfriend. 

“Yes, so bothered I almost didn’t buy you a coffee. Be happy I did, though.” 

“Of course I’m happy. I love you, doll.”

Sirius lifted the sheets and held out a hand to beckon you into the bed with him. You obey reluctantly, putting on a dramatic pout as you crawled in with your boyfriend and straddled his lap. 

“You know you’re the only one for me, right?” He whispered, hands tracing along your hips. 

You combed your fingers through his perfect hair, a frown on your face. 

“Tell that to the singer-songwriter superstar announcing to the world that you’re the only person she wants between her legs.” 

Sirius smiled in a way that made it painfully obvious he had something stupid to say. “Love, there are millions of people who feel that exact way about me. Including you, I would hope.”

Damn, this man was exhausting. And of course you loved him for it. 

You rolled your eyes and tried to get out of the hotel bed, though your attempt was foiled by Sirius holding you back. 

You let him get his way, but gave him an unimpressed look that did not match his badly-stifled grin. 

“I’ll take care of it, alright?” He said, not elaborating at all. 

You shook your head, hoping he would say more about whatever PR stunt he had in mind. 

“Siri, what are you gonna do?”

“Don’t you trust me?” Sirius said softly. He took your hand in his and slid your palm gently across his bare chest. “I’ll take care of it, don’t you worry.”

✦✧✦✧✦

The next concert the band had was a few days after you first saw that magazine. You stood in the wings of the concert stage, just before the show started. 

All the other band members had gone onto the stage and started setting up their instruments and playing the long intro to the opening song; it was just Sirius left, saying goodbye to you before he started performing and you made your way to the VIP section. 

“You’re gonna do great, Siri.” You told him sincerely. 

He winked at you, cocky as ever. 

“I always do.” 

Sirius then softened and masked your tone. He held your upper arms and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“I’ll let them all know I’m yours, and only yours.”

“They’re gonna go crazy.” You smiled.

“Damn right, they will. I’ll see you out there.”

Sirius gave your ass a playful smack before jogging out to the stage before he missed his cue, so you went down to your reserved space in the audience to see the band play from the best angle. 

The audience lost their minds when Sirius ran onto the stage, per usual, screaming and shouting when all he’s done so far was enter. 

But once Sirius started singing, the crowd noticed something off about the performance—Sirius was wearing a whole shirt for the first time throughout this tour. None of the band acknowledged it, of course; they were too busy playing music to be worried about what Sirius was wearing tonight. 

Once the song finished, Sirius took a moment to say hello to the audience. After all the routine talking points—you know, your ‘how’s everybody doing?’ and whatnot—Sirius found it was the right time to say what he wanted to say. 

“I saw a magazine cover the other day, with my name on it.” He started. “And not for the usual reasons. Mary Macdonald, I think it was…”

Many audience members went wild at the mention of her name, either because they were fans of her music, or they knew exactly what headlines Sirius was referring to. 

“That was definitely an odd thing to wake up and see. But I’ve thought about it because it’s been everywhere, and I just have one thing to say about that.”

Instead of responding verbally, Sirius pulled off his black tank top with a smooth, swift motion, revealing his newest tattoo. 

Your name was printed loud and clear on his chest, right over his heart. He got it done the day the Mary Macdonald pictures came out, and he was ecstatic to show it off to the world. 

It caused quite a reaction, but you weren’t listening to the audience to know what they were even thinking. All you cared about was Sirius up on that stage, blowing you a kiss as The Marauders started to play the next song.

[jiangwanyinscatmom]

The Misconception of Fandom and Saying Jiang Cheng is a "Good Uncle" and Jin Ling's Initiative to Begin Thinking for Himself

1. Jiang Cheng does not care to exhibit good ethics for Jin Ling and is the one to have set up nets, threatens and intimidates to impede fellow hunters at Dafan Mountain just so Jin Ling can "win":

He didn’t expect the journey to be this unlucky. Originally, he came to help Jin Ling out. Jin Ling would be turning fifteen this year, the age of which he should already be making his debut and starting to compete with the juniors of other clans. Jiang Cheng considered the decision carefully before choosing Dafan Mountain as the location of the hunt. He also set up nets everywhere and threatened the cultivators of other clans, showing them the consequences so that they would retreat, in order to let Jin Ling take the top prize without anyone fighting against him.

Although four hundred deity-binding nets were a whopping price, it wasn’t too much for the YunmengJiang Sect. Nonetheless, losing the nets were a small matter, but losing face was not. With Lan WangJi’s actions, Jiang Cheng felt a whirlpool of anger at the bottom of his heart, rising higher by every second. He narrowed his eyes, his left hand casually stroking the ring on his right hand’s index finger.

(ExR)

2. Jiang Cheng does give Jin Ling ultimatums to curry his favor just as Madam Yu did with him with impossible expectations:

Why are you still standing there? Waiting for the prey to come and throw itself onto your sword? If, today, you don’t catch the creature hunting Dafan Mountain, don’t come to me ever again!”

(ExR)

3.Jin Ling was never shown affection by Jiang Cheng and never described in softer terms by Jin Ling and is noted in novel to show any goodwill and what "happiness" he expresses is violent:

Jin Ling stood on the side, seeming as if he wanted to say a few things, but was too shocked to do so. Jiang Cheng glowered at him, “I’ll take care of you later. Stay here!”

From the beginning of his memory until now, Jin Ling had never seen such a look on Jiang Cheng’s face before: This uncle of his who led the prominent YunmengJiang Sect ever since a young age had always been cold and dark. When he spoke, he was willing to neither show mercy nor do good. Yet, right now, although he was trying hard to suppress unnecessary facial expressions, his eyes were alarmingly intense.

Although his face had always been clouded, marked with arrogance and satire, it seemed as if every corner of it had come alive. It was difficult to determine whether it was vengeful wrath, fathomless hatred, or raving ecstasy.

(ExR)

4. Jiang Cheng has no positive interest in Fairy other than to use a dog to emotionally distress Wei Wuxian and Jin Ling himself is hesitant about this until he is intimidated by Jiang Cheng:

Jiang Cheng added, “Lend me your dog.”

Jin Ling pulled himself out of the daze. He hesitated for a moment and only whistled after Jiang Cheng shot him two lightning-sharp beams from his eyes. The dog dashed over in just a few leaps. Wei WuXian, body as stiff as an iron board, could only be dragged forward, walking one step at a time.

(ExR)

5: Jin Ling is aware of Jiang Cheng torturing and killing people based on his paranoia and proceeds to help Wei Wuxian escape due to his own dislike of needless killings beginning to show, regardless of his opinion on "Mo Xuanyu":

Jin Ling, “It’s not the first time my uncle did such a thing. He has never let any of them go, even if it was possible that he caught the wrong ones. But, if Zidian couldn’t draw out your spirit, I’m just gonna trust that you’re not.

(ExR)

6. Due to his involvement with letting Wei Wuxian escape Jin Ling is pulled into the case of Yi City when he was traveling alone to Lanling Jin, and to the safety of his other Uncle as he knew Jiang Cheng would be volatile and didn't want to be faced alone with him at any point and relies on Jin Guanyao's reputation of being kjown for conflict management to deter Jiang Cheng's attentions:

Jin Ling followed Jin GuangYao out here. He still didn’t dare meet Jiang Cheng alone. Hiding behind Jin GuangYao’s back, he mumbled, “Uncle.”

Jiang Cheng replied harshly, “So you still know that I’m your uncle!”

Jin Ling quickly tugged at the back hems of Jin GuangYao’s robe. Jin GuangYao seemed as though he had been born to resolve conflicts, “Now, Sect Leader Jiang, A-Ling realized his mistake a long time ago. During the past few days, he’s been so scared you’d punish him that he hasn’t even been eating well. Children just like to make mischief. I know you love him the most. Let’s not bother him about it so much.”

(ExR)

7. Again, Jiang Cheng does not show active care for Jin Ling, who wants confirmation that he is cared for when the threat of corpses is on them during the second siege of the Burial Mounds:

A few sect leaders clutched onto their sons, cautioning them, “When the corpses rush inside all at once, protect yourself and try to get out. Stay alive no matter what! You understand?!”

As Jin Ling heard this, he felt himself cringe, but somewhere deep down he hoped that his uncle would say something similar as well. He waited for a while, but nothing came from Jiang Cheng, so he couldn’t help but glare at him. He glared for too long, and Jiang Cheng finally turned to him.

He seemed a bit less gloomy, but he frowned,

"What’s wrong with your eyes?”

“…” Jin Ling was quite annoyed, “Nothing!”

8. Which then extends to Jin Ling joining the other juniors, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji in fending off corpses, despite Jiang Cheng trying to hand him Zidian, Jin Ling takes the initiative to protect not only himself but the others desperate to survive the attack at the front of the cave:

1.

Jin Ling had never seen so many fierce corpses before, much less at such a close distance. He could feel his scalp tingle, clenching the sword hilt of Suihua. Yet, suddenly, his fist was peeled open, and a cold object was stuffed inside. He looked down in surprise, “Uncle?”

Jiang Cheng propped himself up with Sandu, which had lost its spiritual energy. His figure wavered slightly, "Try losing Zidian and see what happens!”

2.

Lan SiZhui was wielding his blade swiftly when he heard a loud clang from behind him. Somebody blocked an attack that came for his back.

Lan SiZhui exclaimed, “Young Master Jin, why are you here too?”

When Jin Ling saw that all of the people around his age had rushed over, he couldn’t hold himself back either. When Jiang Cheng was unaware, he stuffed Zidian’s ring back into his hand and sprinted toward the crowd, all the way up to the most dangerous area before the mouth of the cave.

The most attentive Jiang Cheng can be said to be is when he leads Jin Ling into their boat cabin, yet what he says is only another veiled insult to a child in retaliation and potentially veiled threats:

Jiang Cheng lowered his chin slightly, “Sect Leader OuYang.”

Having been named, Sect Leader OuYang could feel his eyelids throb the way his heart did. He heard Jiang Cheng icily continue, “If I remember correctly, the one who spoke is your son, isn’t he? He sure has a silver tongue.”

Sect Leader OuYang hurried, “ZiZhen! Come back, come over to Dad!”

OuYang ZiZhen was confused, “Dad, weren’t you the one who told me to get on this boat so that I didn’t annoy you guys?”

Sect Leader OuYang wiped at a few beads of sweat, “Enough! Haven’t you shown off enough times today? Come here right now!” His sect was located at Baling, close to Yunmeng but incomparable in power. Naturally, he didn’t want Jiang Cheng to bear a grudge against his son just because he spoke up a couple of times for Wei WuXian.

Jiang Cheng glared at Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi one last time before he returned to the cabin, arm wrapped around Jin Ling’s shoulders. Sect Leader OuYang sighed in relief.

(ExR)

This later all culminates to Jin Ling yelling at Jiang Cheng for chasing off Wei Wuxian once again and leads Jin Ling to try finding Wei Wuxian to speak with him once more leading to Guanyin Temple's confrontation and Jin Ling in the difficult position of turmoil of hate but not wanting to act upon the violence that has been instilled as righteously just to exhibit because it does not make him feel any better or avenged, and ironically is made to learn the lesson Wei Wuxian, learned from Wen Qing of the family hated of the Jianghu, had first told him when he had saved him from Jiang Cheng's torture:

Wei WuXian put his hands behind his back and walked over, “Young man, there are two cringe worthy phrases in one’s life that must be said, no matter what.”

Jin Ling asked, “Which two?”

Wei WuXian replied, “‘Thank you’, and ‘I’m sorry’.”

(ExR)

[runninriot]

Backstage Romance (I Want It Bad)

written for @steddiesongfics

song: Backstage Romance (Moulin Rouge! The Musical) | rated: E | wc: 7.018 | tags: Rockstar Eddie Munson, Manager Steve Harrington, Famous Corroded Coffin, secret hookups, dom/sub undertones, angst, smut, ambiguous/open ending | complete fic on ao3

-----

Eddie is buzzing, high on adrenaline like always when they’re playing a show. He’s still not used to this, it’s still something he can’t quite wrap his head around – to watch people dance and sing along to their songs, to hear their roaring applause and deafening whistles, to know they’re here for them.

It’s electrifying.

A fucking dream.

They’re still considered newcomers but Corroded Coffin are finally climbing their way out of the gutter; they’re making it, step by step, and one day not too far in the future, they’ll be on top.

It’s all Eddie ever wanted, all he and his best friends have always fantasized about back when they were still a bunch of loser kids dreaming of becoming rockstars while terrorising Gareth’s poor parents (and the whole neighbourhood, really) with the horrible noise coming from their garage.

The dream is reality now, success not only a possibility but a fact. It would be poison for Eddie's already too big ego but thankfully, there's always someone bringing him back down to earth when he gets carried away.

They’ve got a label now, signed record deal and all and-

   “Great show, guys! The people seemed to really love the new song.”

Yeah, and that. They’ve got a manager now, too.

Steve Harrington.

The guy whose appearance makes him stick out like a sore thumb from the sea of blacks and greys and dark reds around him. The guy who doesn’t look the part but actually likes what they do. The guy who doesn’t give two fucks about what others think of him because he’s not here to make friends, he’s here to do his job. And he’s pretty good at that.

Good at a lot of things.

At first, Eddie hated the idea of having a fucking babysitter on tour with them. Someone to watch their every move, someone to keep them out of trouble (where’s the fun in that?), to make sure they don’t fuck up their reputation. Someone to handle all their business affairs for them, as if they couldn’t take care of it themselves.

Now, Eddie’s actually glad they have someone to deal with everything – from interview requests and setting up their tour schedule to negotiating their contracts and booking their gigs. Steve handles it all, allowing the band to enjoy the fruits of their labour without having to deal with the annoying parts of being in the music business.

And that should be all there is to it. Just a business relation based on what’s in the band’s best interest.

But it’s not.

Not behind the curtains, backstage, when no one is looking. Where, hidden in dark corners, Steve and Eddie share a secret.

A secret that could ruin it all.

Because it’s unprofessional, could get them both in trouble. Could get Steve fired, possibly. Maybe even put Eddie’s – if not the whole band’s – career on the line if the public ever found out about it.

But that just makes it even more thrilling.

Eddie has always been drawn to that, the forbidden, things that could cause irreparable damage. And throughout his life, he’s come to ask himself more than once if this is really worth it. If it’s worth risking it all just for giving in to his reckless impulses.

But the answer has always been the same. Now even more so than ever.

He knows it’s wrong, dangerous, a game he shouldn’t be playing because playing with fire will get him burned.

The problem is that he’s a sucker for the pain.

And being ruined by Steve Harrington is worth everything.

-----

continue reading here

[wolftarotcrafts]

Hope you enjoy this short tarot reading.❤️

Pile One

TW: Family issues and abuse (I'm not getting anything too serious, but I just wanted people to be warned and not blindsided if something in a way resonates with those topics.)

Hello, pile one, your spirit guides want you to know that it's okay to speak up and use your voice. Communication is important, and it is your key to success. I see you are at war with yourselves and others. I see that some of you are struggling to speak up about something revolving around your past. This could be something revolving around your childhood, or if you have kids, this could be talking about them. I think you are the one holding yourself back talking about a situation or something that's been bothering you. I think this has to do with your home life, like past grievances with family that have never been resolved, but people just pretend like it isn't happening or happened; possibly you are not proud of your actions when you were younger, someone hurt you in some kind of way, or you could be dealing with a custody battle. You could be struggling with a person. Whatever it may be, your guides want you to speak up and use your voice, because you shouldn't have to keep quiet to make others happy because this will only keep you trapped, and others' happiness should not always be put on you, nor should it matter more than your happiness. You should have to make people's lives easier and, in turn, make yours harder. You need to have courage and remember that your guides and the people that love you will be there to support you every step of the way. So, whatever has been weighing on your heart and mind, it's time to let it out and speak. The truth will set you free.

Extra: She Used To Be Mine by Sara Bareilles, 4, 9, 15, 16, 40, 444, 777, "Everything will be okay," pain, trapped, chained up, worried, anxiety, clarity and truth, family, children, August, February, Gemini, Taurus, Aries, B, I, P, R, snakes, purse or bag, scorpion, claws, therapy, crying, Cinderella.

Pile Two

Hello, Pile two. I think that your guides want you to know that you are going to level up. What I mean by that is, some of you may start taking your spiritual and religious practices to the next phase. You are getting more serious about your practice. An example being you may stop just reading books on deities and may try to start communicating with one in particular. For others of you, I see you leveling up in your career or studies. I see some of you may be in law school, and you specifically are going to level up in your studies, but there is also an importance of leveling up in your self-care. I see many of you getting a promotion and getting in a higher position at work, like a supervisor or manager, something with authority. They want you to know that all these good things are going to happen to you because you deserve it and because of the hard work you put in. You should be proud of yourself. 

Extra: Put Your Records On by Ritt Momney, 2, 4, 16, 18, 33, 42, 888, Libra, Aries, Sagittarius, Taurus, Capricorn, earth signs, D, C, Level up, spiritual, religion, win, promotion, money, law school, hardworking, fighter, "keep going.".

Pile Three

Hi pile three. I see that you have been struggling with your finances and career. You have been fighting this battle, and don't worry because the end of the battle is near. I see you are going to come out on top, and, very clearly, your guides are cheering you on and encouraging you not to give up since you are on your last stretch. You are heading for a calmer state of mind. Your hard work is going to be paying off very soon. They just want you to know to keep going and don't give up because they got your back. 

Extra: Wishbone, smiley face, anchor, K, A, R, The caduceus, medical field, snake, love life might start improving too. War is over. I might have picked pile two as well. 

I also have paid readings available here. ❤️

[theywantedplayer]

Master list

PromptList

AN-this is longer than what I usually do I hope yall fuck with it since I haven't been writing lots bc I got exams in 2 weeks fm

You started noticing Nico acting differently—not just on the ice but also when it was just the two of you at home. He always had a nurturing attitude, which his teammates liked to tease him about by calling him "Mother Nico." He was always a caring and intuitive guy, picking up around the apartment even though you knew he had a stressful schedule during the NHL season.

He handled it all well, balancing everything quite skillfully. You’d often hear stories from your friends who were dating other players on the team about how their boyfriends always prioritized hockey, but Nico wasn’t like that.

Then, around the winter months, things started to change. He seemed slower, quieter, and less talkative like a dark cloud constantly hung over him. The Devils weren’t performing as well in the standings as usual, and Nico took it personally as the captain. He acted like the team’s struggles were entirely his fault, carrying the weight of it on his shoulders.

Nico had always been your rock. He let you talk to him about anything that was bothering you, offering a listening ear and unwavering support. But as the winter months set in, you started to realize that the dynamic only seemed to go one way. You could sense something was troubling him, but he never opened up about it.

Little things began to slip. He forgot whose turn it was to make dinner, skipped doing the laundry, or left the dishes undone—things he’d always been on top of. At first, you didn’t mind picking up the extra load, understanding how stressful the season must have been for him. But as October came, you decided it was time to bring it up. You never expected his reaction.

"I’ve noticed you’ve been off, and I’m worried about you," you finally said, folding laundry on the dining room table. Your voice was calm but firm, wanting to make your concern seen.

"What makes you say that?" he replied, his gaze fixed on the TV.

Your eyes flickered between him and the screen. He was watching SportsCenter, listening to reporters make critical and unsupportive remarks about the Devils' performance. It was clear their words had struck a nerve

“Well, you haven’t been picking up around the house lately, and you’ve just been quieter. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay,” you said as you folded his t-shirts.

Truthfully, you didn’t mind picking up more around the house. You’d always told Nico he didn’t need to do as much as he did, but he always insisted. Still, as you tried to talk to him, it felt like walking on landmines. He was so quiet, and you were afraid he might explode at any moment.

“Seriously?” he said coldly, finally turning his head toward you.

“You know I don’t have a problem with you not doing housework. You just haven’t been yourself lately,” you said, trying to keep your tone gentle. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

“If you don’t have a fucking problem with it, then why are you bringing it up?” he snapped, his tone ice-cold.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips. You could feel where this conversation was headed. Setting down the hoodie you’d been folding, you rested your hands on the table and turned to look at him. His expression was unreadable, and that familiar resting bitch face of his—the one that intimidated people who didn’t know him—made you hesitate for just a moment. You knew it wasn’t truly who Nico was, but even now, it unsettled you just a little. Seeing someone who was always the sweetest and more caring one in the room suddenly has the face of one who at first glance didn't seem like it was a shock, but you always knew your boyfriend and knew that wasn't true.

“Nico, I’m not trying to start anything,” you said softly. “I just know something’s wrong, and you won’t even fucking talk to me about it.” you regretted the swear as soon as it left your mouth knowing it seemed like a push to him.

“Because I don’t need to,” he stated flatly.

You sighed again, frustration and worry bubbling inside you. Nico was the guy who always told everyone else they could talk to him, but he never talked to anyone about his stuff even rarely at times with you.

“Well, I think you do,” you said, your voice firmer this time as you locked eyes with him. You weren’t trying to start a fight, but you couldn’t let this slide. “I think talking about it would really help. You’ve been so quick to anger lately, so quiet, and I’m worried about you. You can talk to me. Why do you feel like you can’t?”

You noticed the slight clench of his jaw before he responded. “I have a lot of shit going on. I’m sorry if I’m not picking up around the house anymore. Just leave it alone,” he said, his tone laced with annoyance. “Just leave me alone.”

With that, he turned his body and full attention back to the TV. You opened your mouth to speak again, but he turned up the volume at the same time. Whether it was intentional or not, it sent a clear message: he wasn’t continuing this conversation. And as much as you knew it needed to happen, you didn’t have the energy to force it either.

About a month later, near the end of November, you could tell things had only gotten worse. The Devils were in the middle of a six-game losing streak, and it was eating at Nico. The frustration came to a head after a particularly brutal loss—shut out by Vegas, 5–0.

The walk back to the car was painfully silent. The only words Nico said as he handed you the keys were, “You drive.”

You nodded wordlessly, slipping into the driver’s seat and starting the car. The drive home, which should’ve been 20 minutes, stretched to nearly 45 because of post-game traffic. Normally, after a tough game like this, Nico would vent to you—sharing ideas for new plays or strategies to motivate the team. But tonight, he sat in the passenger seat, staring blankly at the sea of brake lights in front of you.

At every red light, you glanced over at him, silently checking in. He didn’t say a word, but you could see the storm brewing in his mind. This wasn’t just a bad game or a bad week; it was months of mounting pressure. He wasn’t himself anymore, and you knew he was close to breaking.

When you finally pulled into the parking garage of your apartment building, you turned off the car and opened your door. “Come on, Nic, let’s just go to bed,” you said gently, stepping out.

You expected to hear the passenger door open, but instead, there was silence. Turning back, you saw him still sitting there, unmoving. His hand hadn’t even reached for the door handle. It was like he hadn’t even heard you.

You walked around to the passenger side and opened the door, crouching down slightly to meet his eye line. “Nico,” you said softly, your voice laced with concern. “Let’s go inside.”

You could see it—the weight of everything he’d been bottling up for months. The pressure, the expectations, the emotions he refused to show. He was on the verge of breaking, and you just wanted to help him before he shattered completely.

He was too prideful.

But still, you were met with silence. You reached out and softly grabbed one of his hands resting in his lap, giving it a gentle squeeze. You tried to pull him out of the car, but he pulled his hand back, holding yours tightly in both of his. He stared down at your hands, his thumbs brushing softly over your skin. You sat there, unsure of what to say, just trying to comfort him in the smallest way possible. In two years of dating, you’d only ever seen Nico shut down like this once before—after the Devils' playoff run in 2023.

Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “What the fuck is going on?”

You couldn’t tell if he was talking to you, to himself, or to no one at all. His voice wavered, trying to hide the emotion threatening to break through. It pained you—he’d seen you cry countless times, about everything from stress to happiness, but he still couldn’t bring himself to let you see him like this.

“I know it’s tough,” you said softly, squeezing his hand again.

“It’s more than just fucking tough,” he said, his voice rising with frustration. “We’ve been playing like shit, and there’s nothing I can do. The reporters are tearing us apart, and I have no idea how to fix it. I don’t know how to fix them. I don’t know what the fuck to do!”

His voice cracked, but he kept going, the dam finally breaking.

“In the locker room, on the ice—everyone looks at me like I have all the answers. Like I’m supposed to solve all our fucking problems. But I don’t. What kind of captain can’t even fix his team?”

“It’s not your job to fix your team,” you said plainly, your voice steady.

For the first time since the game, he looked up at you, and your heart broke at the sight. His big brown eyes glistened, tears pooling just at the edge, threatening to spill over.

“I’m the captain, Y/N,” he said, his voice shaking. “It is my job. It’s my responsibility to keep the team together, to make sure we don’t fall into shit like this.” His eyebrows knitted together in frustration, and he shook his head, as if rejecting your words outright.

“You’re putting too much pressure on yourself,” you said gently. “You’ve been doing that for years.”

“Pressure?” he scoffed bitterly. “If it’s not me putting it on, it’s everyone else.”

Your expression softened, and you brought your other hand up to run your fingers through his damp hair. “If you’re the one putting it on yourself, then you can also take it off,” you said quietly. “I’m right here, Nico. I’ve been telling you that since the day we met. If you’re feeling anything—everything—you can talk to me.”

He shook his head again, looking up at you with so much guilt it made your chest ache. “I can’t do that to you. You’ve got enough going on with school and exams. I can’t be one more thing.”

“That’s bullshit,” you said, sighing. “I love you. Nothing is more important to me than you. Keeping all this bottled up is only making it worse, Nico. You need to let it out. Talk to me.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, but his eyes softened as you wiped away a single tear that slipped down his cheek.

“But I’m the captain. People are supposed to look up to me and lean on me. It’s my job to take care of everyone else,” he said weakly.

“Yeah, and it’s my job to take care of you,” you said firmly. “I knew what I was signing up for when we got together. Dating a pro athlete comes with challenges that most people don’t face, and I knew it’d be hard sometimes. But Nico, you make it so easy to love you. The only thing that makes this hard is that you don’t talk to me when you’re struggling. I want to be your rock, too. I want you to come to me, vent for hours if you need to, cry if you need to. I just want to help you.”

A shaky sigh escaped his lips, and his voice cracked as he said, “I feel like I have to hold it together all the time. Half the time, I’m not. If we’re losing, I feel like it’s my fault. If I can’t lead us to a win, what kind of captain does that make me?”

“You’re playing fucking hockey, Nico,” you said bluntly. “You’ve been doing this your whole life. You know what you’re doing, and you know what your team needs. But it’s not your job to fix everything. They’re grown men with their own shit going on. The best thing you can do is be there for them, support them. But you can’t carry the whole team on your back.”

A bitter laugh left his lips. “Everyone thinks we’re a shit team right now. We’re getting blown out almost every game.”

You smiled softly, glad to see the tension beginning to leave his shoulders as he let everything out. “Don’t you think Quinn felt like that, too?” you asked.

His brows furrowed in surprise at the mention of his friend's brother.

“He’s captain of the Canucks. They were a mess for years but look at them now. They’ve turned it around. People respect them because they fought through it. You will, too. You’re not the only one who’s ever felt like this. Why don't you try and talk to him about this, Quinn's a really helpful guy he's helping me so much, growing up he was the first person I'd go to"

Nico knew your history with the Hughes you guys grew up together and spent nights at the lake house together, even though Nico didn't know Quinn as well as he knew his energetic little brother, Jack,  he could tell from the few times that they've met that he was a great guy to go to for advice.  He honestly really liked Quinn,  one time during the summer during the off-season the Hughes family invited you and Nico to spend a couple weeks at the lake house with the original group. Being Cole, Trevor the Hughes brothers, and some other buddies from Michigan, Nico was a little nervous about going since he only really knew Jack, Luke and You but Quinn and Nico honestly gravitated towards each other and got along quite well, he introduced Nico to the rest of the group and everyone hit it off from there on.

and during one of those nights at the lake house he and the eldest brother were sitting out by the fire when everyone was inside they ended up having generally deep talk and confided in each other about being captains of a team at a very young age. At the time Nico barely knew Quinn this was really the first time he was actually able to sit down and fully get to know the young defenseman but still he talked to him knowing they shared the same worries and since then they've always kept in contact.

Everyone always loved it when New Jersey played Vancouver because they called it the "Hughe's Bowl" since the three brothers were playing on the same ice against each other for the first time in a long time. Nico always looked forward to that since usually after those games if Vancouver wasn't heading back that night Nico and the three brothers would go out and always get a beer together. 

 Nico could slightly feel his face heat up with embarrassment. not about opening up but about not doing it sooner.  he loved you and he knew you always wanted the best for him so he just felt stupid for not realizing that sooner and trusting someone with his problems but it wasn't just somebody it was you 

He was quiet for a moment, processing your words. Then, unexpectedly, he let out a deep laugh. You blinked in surprise at the sudden shift, squeezing his shoulder gently.

“What’s so funny?”

“I’m an idiot,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ve been sitting on this for months, and after less than ten minutes of talking to you, I already feel better. No wonder you were pushing me to open up.”

You laughed with him, relief washing over you as he climbed out of the car and pulled you into a tight hug. He buried his face in your neck, his arms wrapping securely around you.

“Thank you,” he murmured into your skin, holding you close.

You hugged him just as tightly, feeling the warmth radiating from his body after the game. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too, Nico. And I need you to know you can always talk to me about anything.”

He pulled back slightly to look into your eyes, his own still glistening but now softer. He just saw you prove that too. him but he really needed to hear you say it. He kissed you gently, then rested his chin on your head, pressing a kiss to your hairline.

“Let’s go to bed,” he said with a soft laugh. “I’m fucking tired.”

[buckets-and-trees]

Red, White & True: DC, Tampa, Athens [5/?]

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x curvy Millennial Female!Reader, Peter Parker, Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes Word Count: 6.1k Summary: Late September means things are only accelerating as election day grows closer. Steve is picking up momentum in the polls, and things heat up on multiple fronts before you hit a bump that may shake up the progress between you and your husband.

Content/Warnings: marriage of political convenience, slow burn

Notes: You get another West Wing cameo in this chapter (but totally unnecessary to have ever watched the show). This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened.

Previous Chapter | Series ↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[SEPTEMBER 26 - WASHINGTON, DC]

The late September sun streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the campaign's official DC headquarters, casting long shadows across the bustling office space. You're leaning against a desk, watching with amusement as Peter Parker, the youth outreach coordinator who's also become the campaign's unofficial creative director of the TikTok segment of the social media team, attempts to explain the concept for the video to Steve.

"Okay, Cap," Peter says, his enthusiasm palpable as he holds up his phone. "We're going to do a quick transition video. It's super easy, I promise!"

Steve stands in the middle of the room, looking slightly uncomfortable but determined. He's dressed casually in jeans and a plain white t-shirt, a stark contrast to his usual campaign attire. The goal is to remind the voters that Steve is relatable to the everyday American at the end of the day.

Steve nods, a mixture of bemusement and determination on his face. "Alright, Peter. Walk me through it."

Peter's face lights up. "Okay, so you're going to start in your casual clothes, then you'll spin around. As you spin, we'll cut and you'll change into your suit. When you finish the spin, you'll be in full Captain America mode, then we’ll have you spin and change one more time, and we’ll end the video with you in your presidential get up."

"And this will... resonate with young voters?" Steve asks, raising an eyebrow.

You can't help but chuckle. "It's about showing your versatility, Steve. From everyday guy to national hero to the next president in the blink of an eye."

Steve shoots you a playful glare. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one spinning like a top."

Peter positions Steve in front of the camera. "Okay, Cap. Just spin naturally, and we'll take care of the angles and editing.”

As Steve prepares for his first take, Bucky saunters into the room, a smirk playing on his lips. He sidles up next to you, crossing his arms as he watches his best friend awkwardly position himself in front of the camera.

"I'm sure Steve must be loving this," Bucky murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

You nod, suppressing a chuckle. "It's written all over his face."

Indeed, Steve's expression is a fascinating mix of determination and mild discomfort, his brow is furrowed in concentration.

The rapport that’s been developing with Bucky over the last few weeks has also been nice. It’s its own brand of friendship, and it’s not rock solid yet, but it’s growing.

"Alright, Cap," Peter calls out, phone at the ready. "On three. One... two... three!"

Steve begins to spin, his movements a bit stiff in the first take.

Peter's enthusiastic voice cuts through the air. "That was great, Cap! Let's try again,” he encourages, not leaving a beat for Steve to feel awkward or like he’s done it wrong. You can tell his approach will make all the difference with Steve.

As Steve prepares for another take, you can't help but admire his willingness to step out of his comfort zone. It's one of the things that's made him such an effective candidate - his ability to adapt and connect with people across generations.

"Okay, this time, try to relax a bit more," Peter suggests. "Just have fun with it!"

Steve spares a glance at you and Bucky, then takes a deep breath, shaking out his arms. "Right. Fun. I can do fun."

Bucky snorts beside you. "This ought to be good."

As Peter counts down again, Steve starts his spin. This time, his movements are smoother, more natural.

"Perfect!" Peter exclaims. "That's the one. Now, let's get you into your tac suit for the next part."

Steve nods, heading towards the makeshift changing area set up in the corner of the room. As he disappears behind the partition, Bucky leans in closer to you.

"You know, I never thought I'd see the day when Steve would be doing social media stunts," he says, his voice a mix of amusement and pride. "He's come a long way from the kid who could barely talk to girls in Brooklyn."

You smile, picturing a young Steve Rogers, all skinny limbs and earnest determination. "I bet he was endearing," you say.

Bucky chuckles. "Oh, he was. A real charmer. Couldn't string two words together around a pretty dame, but he had a heart of gold." He pauses, his expression growing more serious. "It's good to see him like this, you know? Engaged with the world, trying new things and connecting with people again. For a while after the Blip, I worried he’d ride off into the sunset forever before the sunset was even really here. We’re out of the century we were supposed to live in, but we’re still here, y’know? Didn’t think it would be this, but it’s not all bad. Pepper wasn’t wrong in choosing him for who he is inside.”

You nod, understanding. “When I met with her about the campaign, she’d sent me the policy materials, the plans, the opposition research detailing his strengths and weaknesses as a candidate, and I was on board to take any position she offered me on the campaign team. I never imagined working on a presidential run, but her vision, her approach? I knew I wanted to be part of it.”

Bucky arches an eyebrow. “I thought… wait…” he’s mulling over what you said. “So, when you came in, you didn’t know she wanted you to marry Steve?”

You laugh and shake your head, “Oh, no! Because that would have been crazy! Who would agree to that?”

Bucky's eyes widen slightly at your revelation. "But you just... agreed on the spot when she proposed it?"

You pause, considering how to respond. The truth is, it had been a whirlwind decision, one that you sometimes still can't believe you made. "Not exactly on the spot," you say carefully. "But...pretty quickly, yeah. It was a lot to take in, but something about it just felt right, you know?"

Bucky nods slowly, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I get it. Steve has that effect on people. Makes you want to follow him into any fight, even if it's not your own."

Before you can respond, Sam walks in, eyebrows raised at the scene before him. "How’re things going here? I hear we’re starting a dance troupe?"

Bucky chuckles. "Social media campaign. Apparently, the kids these days like watching people spin around and change clothes."

Sam shakes his head, a grin on his face. “Glad I’m not going to miss it.”

“I’m suggesting you go in as back up dancer.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Barnes! You know I’d do it!”

You laugh at the easy banter between Steve’s two best friends, but then the man himself emerges from behind the partition, now clad in his tactical suit. The sight of him in the red, white, and blue outfit isn’t new, but as it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him dressed as Captain America in person, it unexpectedly takes your breath away a little.

Steve takes his position again, looking more at ease now in his familiar uniform. "How's this, Peter?" Steve calls out, adjusting the shield on his arm.

Peter gives him a thumbs up and starts the countdown. This time, Steve's spin is confident and fluid, ending with a slight smirk that's pure Captain America.

"Nailed it!" Peter cheers. "Okay, one more outfit change and we're done."

“Hang on!” Sam calls out. His eyes light up as he looks between you and Steve, a grin spreading across his face. "We've got a golden opportunity here."

You raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"

Sam rubs his hands together. "Picture this: Captain America, in full uniform, getting a kiss from his lovely wife. It's the perfect Instagram moment!"

Steve's eyes widen slightly, a faint blush creeping up his neck. "Sam, I don't think-"

"No, no, hear me out," Sam interrupts, warming to his theme. "We've been pushing the whole 'relatable Steve' angle, right? Well, what's more relatable than a guy getting a kiss from his wife? Plus, it ties in the Cap persona.”

Peter's face lights up at the suggestion. "Oh man, that's genius! The engagement would be off the charts!"

Steve looks slightly uncomfortable, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and you don’t know how to feel about it either. "I don't know, guys. Isn't that a bit... much?"

Bucky chimes in, a smirk playing on his lips. "Come on, give the people what they want."

“Et tu, Brute?” you direct this to Bucky, not at all surprised at the enthusiasm from Sam and Peter, but genuinely shocked he’s jumping on board as well.

Sam turns to you, his expression a mix of excitement and mischief. "What do you say? Want to break the internet with a kiss from Captain America?"

You hesitate, feeling a mix of emotions. On one hand, the idea of kissing Steve - even for a staged photo - sends a flutter through your stomach. On the other, you're acutely aware of the artificiality of the situation and the potential implications for the campaign.

You glance at Steve. His expression is unreadable, but you can see a hint of uncertainty in his eyes.

Sam, sensing your hesitation, softens his approach. "Look, I know it might seem a bit much, but think about it. We've been working so hard to show Steve as both the hero and the everyday man. This could be a perfect blend of both."

Peter nods enthusiastically. "I think a good candid shot would be a great way to humanize the campaign. Show that even Captain America has a soft side."

You look back at Steve, and he gives a small nod. You see a mix of emotions in his eyes - uncertainty, but also a hint of something else. Trust, perhaps. "If you're okay with it, I am."

"I’m good," you agree, your heart rate picking up slightly.

Sam claps his hands together. "Great! Peter, get ready with that camera."

As Peter positions himself, you step closer to Steve. He reaches out, gently placing his hands on your waist. The tactical suit feels cool under your fingertips as you place a hand on his chest. You can feel the slight tension in his muscles.

"Ready?" Steve murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

You nod, managing a small smile. "Let’s do this," you reply once more because this is its own ‘public appearance’, and so the customary exchange only seems fitting.

Steve’s hands move from your waist around to your back, and he takes a deep breath, looking into your eyes.

You stop breathing for a moment, suspended there in his arms.

“Kiss her, punk!” Bucky shouts, and the electric moment is broken, but you both laugh, and then Steve dips you dramatically and kisses you soundly as you clutch his shoulders. The three men cheer enthusiastically and cat call you when the kiss goes on just another moment or two.

As Steve stands you back up, you both burst into laughter, the tension of the moment dissolving into genuine mirth and camaraderie. His arm is still around your waist, steadying you as you regain your balance. The warmth of his body radiates through the tactical suit, and you find yourself leaning into him slightly, your soft, round body pressing into his hard muscles.

"So, Peter," Steve calls out, his voice still tinged with amusement, "did we nail that shot, or do you need us to try again?" There's a playful glint in his eye as he says this, and you can't help but grin up at him.

Peter, looking slightly flustered but undeniably excited, nods enthusiastically. "Oh yeah, Cap! That was perfect! The internet is going to go crazy over this!"

You start to step away, ready to return to your spot by the desk, but Steve surprises you by gently pulling you back, his arm wrapping around your waist once more. The room seems to fall away as he gazes into your eyes, a softness in his expression that you've rarely seen before. Time slows as he leans in, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek.

His touch is feather-light, his calloused thumb brushing across your cheekbone with a tenderness that makes your breath catch. The scent of him envelops you - a mixture of leather from the suit, a hint of aftershave, and something uniquely Steve.

Your heart races as Steve leans in, his breath warm against your lips. For a moment, you forget about the cameras, the campaign, everything except the man in front of you.

Steve's lips brush yours, soft and tentative at first. It's different from the performative kiss moments ago - this feels real, intimate. You respond instinctively, your hands sliding up his chest to rest on his shoulders. The kiss deepens, and you feel a warmth spreading through your body.

Suddenly, you're jolted back to reality by the sound of a throat clearing loudly.

You and Steve break apart, both slightly breathless. The room crashes back into focus, and you're acutely aware of the others watching. Sam has a knowing smirk on his face. Peter looks like he might explode from excitement.

"Well," Sam says, breaking the silence. "I think we've got more than enough material for social media now."

You step back from Steve, feeling the heat creep up your neck. Steve clears his throat, looking slightly flustered himself.

"Right," he says, his voice a bit rough. "I should, uh, go change for the final spin shot."

As Steve disappears behind the partition again, you catch Bucky's eye. He gives you a subtle nod, his expression unreadable. You're not sure what to make of it, but there's no time to dwell on it as Peter starts setting up for the final shot.

You return to your spot by the desk and try compose yourself. Your lips still tingle from the kiss, and you can't shake the memory of Steve's touch.

Bucky sidles up next to you, his voice low as Sam and Peter talk next to you. "That was quite a show," he murmurs, a hint of amusement in his tone.

You glance at him, unsure how to respond. "It's all part of the job, right?" you say, aiming for nonchalance but not quite hitting the mark.

Bucky gives you a long look, then nods slowly. "Right. The job."

Before you can say anything else, Steve emerges from behind the partition, now dressed in one of his presidential suits - a sharp navy number that accentuates his broad shoulders. You can't help but admire how he carries himself. He exudes a quiet confidence, as ever, a perfect blend of the everyday man and the leader of the free world.

"Alright, Cap," Peter calls out, "let's nail this final spin!"

Steve takes his position, and as he begins to turn, you find yourself holding your breath. The transformation is mesmerizing - from casual Rogers to Captain America to Presidential Candidate, but all of them undeniably Steve.

[SEPTEMBER 27 - TAMPA, FLORIDA]

The campaign has rented out an entire floor of a hotel for debate prep, transforming the spacious suites into makeshift war rooms as Tampa provides some key and convenient access to key southern cities by plane. Maps, charts, and policy briefings cover every available surface, and the air hums with the energy of a team on a mission.

Jake Sullivan, Steve's chief strategist, has pulled out all the stops for this crucial phase of debate preparation. He's brought in Amy Gardner, a seasoned political operative known for her sharp wit and take-no-prisoners approach. Her presence adds an extra edge to the already intense atmosphere. You watch as Amy commands the room, even though she sits rather casually in an armchair ten feet from Steve, who stands behind a makeshift podium.

Her presence adds an extra edge to the already intense atmosphere. You watch as Amy paces the room, firing off rapid-fire questions at Steve, who stands behind a makeshift podium.

"What's your plan for addressing climate change?" Jake asks, his voice stern.

Steve responds confidently, "We need to transition to clean energy sources while also supporting workers in traditional energy sectors. My plan includes..."

Amy cuts him off, her tone brusque. "Too long. You've got 60 seconds max. Hit the key points and move on."

Steve nods, taking a deep breath. "Right. Clean energy transition. Support for affected workers. Immediate action on emissions reduction."

“Too succinct,” she says.

Steve frowns, clearly trying to find the right balance. Squaring his shoulders, he goes again. "Our climate plan has three key components: First, an aggressive transition to clean energy sources like wind and solar. Second, robust support and retraining for workers in affected industries. And third, immediate action to reduce emissions across all sectors. This isn't just about saving the planet - it's about creating jobs and securing America's energy independence for generations to come."

Amy nods approvingly. "Better. Now, pivot to how this contrasts with your opponent's stance."

Steve's brow furrows in concentration. "Unlike my Republican opponent, who continues to deny the reality of climate change, my plan acknowledges the crisis we face while also prioritizing American workers and innovation. We can't afford to stick our heads in the sand any longer."

"Decent," Amy says, her tone softening slightly.

“Only decent?”

“You didn’t address the Democrats’ policy. Your battle is to convince enough voters in America to break with over two hundred years of choosing between red or blue.”

You can see Steve is fighting back a sigh of frustration.

"Mr. Rogers, your opponent claims your lack of formal political experience makes you unqualified for the presidency. How do you respond?"

Steve takes a moment, his brow furrowed in concentration. "My experience may not be traditional, but it's been forged in the crucible of protecting this nation and its values. I've led teams through impossible situations, made tough decisions with global consequences, and always put the American people first. That's the kind of leadership experience that truly matters."

Amy nods, but doesn't let up. "Good, but tighten it up. You need to hit harder on your unique qualifications. How do you respond to critics who say your experience is outdated?"

"I'd say that my unique perspective allows me to see both where we've been and where we need to go," Steve begins, his voice steady. "I've seen this country at its best and its worst. I understand the challenges we face because I've lived through similar ones before. But I also understand the incredible potential of our future because I've seen how far we've come."

You can’t help but feel inspired by that answer, but Amy's eyes narrow, her expression sharpening. "Not bad, but you're still playing it too safe. Your opponents will come at you hard. Let's ramp this up."

She stands and begins pacing in front of Steve like a shark. "Mr. Rogers, your critics say you're nothing more than a science experiment gone right. How can you claim to represent the average American when you're literally superhuman?"

Steve's jaw tightens, a flicker of frustration crossing his face. "I may have enhanced abilities, but my values and my heart are as human as anyone's. I grew up in Brooklyn during the Great Depression. I know what it's like to struggle, to feel powerless. The serum didn't change that part of me."

Your heart swells, but again Any interjects again.

"Weak," she says, her voice cutting. "You're not connecting. Try again."

Your mouth drops open slightly. That was powerful. You know it was.

Steve takes a deep breath, his knuckles whitening as he grips the podium. “I’m not a monkey on a unicycle.”

“Well, what a great start. No one wants a monkey in the White House,” she deadpans.

“I don’t need this. We did just fine in the first debate without you,” Steve nearly growls.

“Oh, I didn’t know we were aiming for just fine, I thought you wanted to win.”

Steve's eyes flash with a mixture of anger and frustration. The tension in the room is palpable, like a rubber band stretched to its breaking point. You can see the muscles in his jaw working as he grinds his teeth, trying to maintain his composure.

"I'm not here to play games or put on a show," Steve says, his voice low and controlled, but with an undercurrent of steel. "I'm here because I believe in this country and what it can be. I've fought for it, bled for it, and yes, even died for it. So don't tell me I'm not connecting."

Amy opens her mouth to retort, but Steve cuts her off.

"I've seen this nation at its best and its worst," Steve goes again, his voice growing louder, more impassioned as he speaks. "I've watched it rise from the ashes of the Great Depression, triumph over fascism, and push the boundaries of human achievement. But I've also seen it torn apart by fear, prejudice, and greed."

His eyes blaze with an intensity that seems to electrify the air around him. The room falls silent, everyone transfixed by the raw emotion in his words.

"I may have been enhanced by science, but my heart, my values - they come from growing up as a scrawny kid in Brooklyn who couldn't stand by and watch bullies win. They come from the men and women I fought alongside, who gave their lives for the ideals this country stands for."

Steve's fist comes down on the podium with a resounding thud, causing several people to jump.

"I'm running for president not because I think I'm better than anyone else, but because I believe in the promise of America - a promise that's been broken too many times for too many people. I've seen what this country can do when we come together, when we fight for what's right. And I'm here to tell you, we can do it again."

Steve's voice rings out, filled with passion and conviction. The room is dead silent, everyone hanging on his every word.

"So no, I'm not a traditional politician. I don't have decades of experience playing political games or making backroom deals. What I have is a lifetime of standing up for what's right, of putting others before myself, of believing that we can always be better. I'm running because I believe in the power of ordinary people to do extraordinary things when given the chance."

He pauses, his chest heaving slightly as he looks around the room. The silence is deafening, everyone ensnared by the raw power of his words.

"That's what this campaign is about," he says, his voice softening but losing none of its intensity. "It's about reminding every American that they have the power to shape this nation's future. That their voice matters, their dreams matter, this country over politicians and political agendas. It’s not a show to me.”

Steve strides away from the podium and walks out, and no one stops him. No one even moves until the weighted door to the suite swings closed again. Jake and Elsa begin conferring. Amy seems unconcerned. You’re sitting with Bucky and Sam, who exchange a look, and Bucky moves to stand, but you’re quicker.

“Let me go after him,” you find yourself saying, surprised at how fast you were to seize this situation, almost like a natural instinct.

You hurry out of the room, scanning the hallway for any sign of Steve. You catch a glimpse of his broad shoulders disappearing around a corner and quicken your pace to catch up.

"Steve!" you call out, your voice echoing slightly in the empty corridor.

He stops, his back still to you, shoulders tense. As you approach, he turns slowly to face you. The fire in his eyes has dimmed, replaced by a weariness that tugs at your heart.

"Hey," you say softly, closing the distance between you. "That was... intense back there."

Steve runs a hand through his hair, letting out a long breath. "I shouldn't have lost my temper like that. It's just..." He trails off, shaking his head.

You reach out, placing a hand on his arm. "It's okay. Amy was pushing hard. Maybe too hard."

He looks down at your hand, then up to your face. “I’m fine.”

“I think you’ve told everyone you’re fine every day of your life, Steve Rogers, and no one needs to exist like that.”

Steve cocks his chin slightly. “But the President of the United States should have it together, shouldn’t they? People want a leader they can trust.”

You smile, but it’s not a happy smile, and his expression matches yours.

“Can I ask…?” you venture cautiously.

He nods. “Wife privileges. You can ask whatever you want. Wife duties, probably, to ask me questions I don’t want to hear.”

Wife. A flutter flares in your stomach, but you force yourself to concentrate on the moment, furiously tamping down your reaction.

He resumes walking down the hallway, but more slowly this time, and you fall into step with him as you pursue your curiosity. “A monkey on a unicycle is an oddly specific and highly uncommon comparison to bring up. Is that some reference from your time?”

Steve huffs and his eyes fill with a mix of nostalgia and resentment as he begins to speak. His voice is heavy with emotion as he remembers his past. “I used to sketch a lot when I was young. We didn't have much during the depression, but my ma always managed to scrimp and save enough to buy me a notebook for Christmas or my birthday. It stuck with me up through joining the Army.”

His expression turns somber as he continues, "And after the serum changed my body but I was put on tour to encourage people to buy bonds, it just felt...underwhelming. Discouraging. I knew I could be doing more, making a real difference. But I did what I could - I knew raising money still helped.”

You reach the end of the hallway and stand next to each other, looking out the window.

“When they sent us out to Europe to entertain the troops, it only got worse. The last day I performed, for the 107th regiment, I was heckled and booed off stage."

Steve's hands clench into fists at his sides, "I drew a silly picture of a monkey riding a unicycle; it felt like that's all I was worth to them - just another pawn in their production."

You want to reach for his hand, but it doesn’t seem like the moment. So you simply continue to listen.

“That ended up being the last day I performed a show. I found out part of the company had been captured, stuck behind enemy lines. I disobeyed direct orders, found the men, saved Bucky. After that, everything finally changed, and we got to go to work, doing good, fighting Nazis and Hydra.”

A slight smile tugs at Steve's lips as he finishes his story, "I never wanted to feel like that monkey again. But the closer we get to election day, the more this feels like just a production.”

You stay silent for a moment, mulling over the pieces of his past and the feelings he’s just shared. This isn’t an easy conversation, and it’s not the conversation you thought you would have coming out here, but you’re grateful the two of you are having it together.

You aren’t by any means a seasoned politician either, but you had seen and had to at some points play at politics in your own work. “It’s all a show, there’s no denying that. But you’re not the monkey unless you sit back and let that be the reality.”

“How do you figure that?”

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts before responding. "Steve, you knew from the beginning that this campaign would be a production. You agreed to it - all of it. Including," you gesture between the two of you, your voice softening, "this arrangement. Marrying a woman you'd never even met before."

Steve's eyes meet yours, a flicker of recognition passing through them. You continue, your voice gentle but firm.

"You didn't do all this just to be a figurehead or a puppet. You did it because you want to be president. You want to be the one steering the strategy, calling the shots, making real change." You pause, making sure he's really listening. "This campaign isn't just about winning an election. It's preparation for the presidency itself."

You turn to face him fully, your eyes never leaving his. "This campaign, as frustrating and exhausting as it can be, is its own kind of preparation for the presidency. Think about it - you're dealing with conflicting advice, responding to the platforms from the candidates and how they overlap and differ from your own, connecting directly with the people across the country, making tough calls on what is and is not a priority.”

Steve listens intently, his brow furrowed in concentration as he considers your words. You can see the wheels turning in his mind, processing this perspective.

"You're right," he says finally, his voice quiet but firm. "I did agree to all of this." He runs a hand through his hair, a habit you've noticed he has when he's deep in thought. "I just want it to mean something. To be more than just sound bites and photo ops."

You nod, understanding his frustration. "It does mean something, Steve. Every interaction you have, every speech you give, every policy you propose - it all matters. You're not just going through the motions. You're shaping the conversation, influencing people's thoughts and beliefs about what this country can be."

Steve's eyes meet yours, a mix of gratitude and something deeper there.

"She’s right, Rogers,” a voice behind you makes you both jump and turn.

“This isn't just about winning,” Amy emphasizes. “It's about learning how to navigate the complexities of leading a nation, finding your presence as the leader of the free world, as commander in chief, winning the trust of the American people.

“The debates, the press conferences, the tough decisions you'll have to make as president - they won't always be fair or comfortable. That’s why I pushed you. You won’t answer every debate question like that, but I needed to know you could go there. That’s the kind of president America wants, but they don’t know it until they see it. If you can shake them to their bones, you’ll change hearts and minds.”

Steve smiles at her half in kindness, half in disbelief. “You say all of that pretty casually.”

Amy shrugs and returns the smile. “Because it’s true. I’m done beating you up now that I know you can go the rounds. If you want me to leave, I will, but I’m game to stay if you’re game for slightly less intense verbal sparring.”

“Oh, I can do this all day.”

[SEPTEMBER 28 - ATHENS, GEORGIA]

The campaign plane hums with activity in the minutes before take off. This cabin is filled with members of the press corps, their laptops open and fingers poised over keyboards, eager for any morsel of information they can turn into their next headlines.

Steve looks almost relaxed. His tie is loosened and sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. The energy from the successful event you just wrapped up at the University of Georgia still lingers in the air. This was the fourth event of its kind - a town hall format called College Q&A limited to students and granting them access to dialogue with Steve. You can't help but feel a sense of pride as you recall how he connected with the students, his earnest answers and quick wit seeming to win over even the most skeptical audience members.

It’s become routine that Steve always takes questions from the press corps when he boards the plane before heading to the campaign team cabin, and he’s truly at ease with them in this interaction.

“We’ll take one more,” the campaign spokesperson announces to let both Steve and the reporters know it’s almost time for take off.

“Andy,” Steve calls on one of the familiar faces - the reporter from The Washington Post.

“Yes, Captain, do you have any response to Jeff Connor’s comments about your relationship with Mrs. Rogers?”

Steve's whole demeanor immediately turns serious, his jaw clenching. "I haven't heard Connor's specific comments, so I can't respond directly. My relationship with my wife is personal, and it's not up for debate or speculation."

He pauses, his eyes scanning the cabin before continuing. "What I will say is that she has been an incredible partner, both personally and for this campaign. Her intelligence, compassion, and dedication inspire me every day to be a better person and a better leader."

Steve's gaze softens a fraction as he glances in your direction. "I'm grateful she agreed to take this journey with me."

The press corps erupts with follow-up questions, but Jake holds up a hand. "That's all for now, folks, you know they won’t take off until we’re all seated and we don’t want to miss our take-off window. Thank you."

You, Steve, and the rest of your staff head into the first campaign cabin, and as soon as the door is shut, the atmosphere shifts. The professional masks slip away, replaced by a mix of concern, curiosity, and irritation. Jake immediately pulls out his phone, you assume to get the quote in question.

Elsa, your communications director, is already pulling out her laptop as she settles into a seat across from Steve. "That was the perfect response back there. Quick and heartfelt. It'll play well, especially given the context of Connor's comments."

Your personal aide Sophia is already handing you a tablet to read the quote. "Here, ma’am. It came out during the Q&A, and everyone got wind of it as we were boarding the plane."

You take the tablet, your eyes quickly scanning the headline: "Jeff Connor Speaks Out: 'I Hope They're Happy Together'" The article features a quote from Connor: "I wish them both the best. Marriage isn't easy, especially in the public eye. I just hope they've found happiness together."

You pass it over to Steve and then chew on your lip, pulling out your own phone.

It only takes him a moment to read as well. "Thanks,” Steve's brow furrows as he loosens his tie further and passes the tablet back to Sophia. “This seems fine, unless I’m missing something. But who is this guy, and why would we care what he thinks of our marriage more than anyone else?"

A beat of silence falls over the cabin. You can feel the weight of several pairs of eyes on you, a mixture of surprise and shock in their gazes.

“Okay, I’m clearly the only one who doesn’t know,” Steve concedes, a shade of irritation bleeding through his tone, “Anyone care to enlighten me?”

You take a steadying breath, then look up at Steve and say, “Jeff Connor is my former husband.”

next part: coming 11/29

I'll just say that I've been waiting for this chapter in the story almost from the beginning. 😌

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[jesteriajunovix]

(Spoilers) Just a Reminder to Curly Sympathizers

Jimmy and Curly are not "Problematic Favs". They're literally thematic vessels for THE problem.

CW: Mentions of SA, and Abuse

Curly (And Pony Express as a Company) Never Cared to give Anya Pysche Evals. Curly only started to care for that when it doubled as an occupational hazard to him and his image.

Curly actively vouches for Jimmy as a crew member despite his "struggle" on earth. I don't see how it'd be far-fetched to assume that involves some form of Misconduct with the fact Curly literally says

"You've gotten through difficult situations before" RIGHT AFTER talking to Anya the actual Victim.

Curly doesn't understand why Anya was talking about the locks on the sleeping quarters and moves past it to reinforce the company's logic. [The Company and Curly can not be bothered to consider or provide actual safety for women. It is an afterthought that resembles a cruel apathy towards women's perspectives in a corporate work environment.]

Would Curly have given the gun to Anya if she asked? Probably not. While that is somewhat debatable It rings to the shitty isolated environment where Anya would have to take up such a mindset. Not to mention Curly is clearly super pals with Jimmy, so if that was a concern he'd probably take Jimmy's (and the rest of the guys) side considering he later took jimmy's side under the fact he sexually assaulted a woman.

The first thing Curly says to Jimmy after trying to consolidate Anya is "I Can Fix This". Curly enables Jimmy to find ways to get out of taking responsibility for the harm he did to Anya.

Curly buckles to the fact his mind is more focused on his position and reputation as a Captain rather than the personal impact Jimmy's harm has caused Anya. This issue is an occupational obstacle to him first and foremost.

Jimmy: "This can be remembered as a tragedy".

Jimmy: "The Tuplar crew was never found."

Jimmy: "You're standing at the top. Feet in cement. Right?"

Curly: "...Right."

And his complacency and dissonance of that truth leads him to do absolutely nothing.

I have seen so much art, and discourse treating him like he wasn't an active enabler. You know what. Fuck it. Half of this is going to double as an Anya Post. thinking about how people disgustingly twist her character to redeem two shitty men who are completely at fault irks me so much.

Anya

The fact that Anya doesn't really get to build herself as a character outside of the scenes that reinforce her tragedy, and antagonist environment feels super sucky.

The purpose of such a narrative direction is of course meant to feed into Jimmy's resentful apathetic attitude towards her, and emphasize the cold unfeeling corporate entity that hired her to be on the tulpar, but as a narrative choice, it still feels rather cruel to take in. Jimmy literally erases her personhood from his mind and only internalizes her presence as a threatening womb while taking the rest of the games runtime to focus on himself and the other men on board.

I see many renditions of Anya in fanart. Adding to her character in ways people weren't really given the time to appreciate or take in during the actual game due to how little she's left with.

I find her canon resolution both annoying and interesting due to this type of interaction where the fans are being pushed towards an interpretive play pen where they are motivated to give Anya more characteristics, quirks, and perspectives than she was allowed to have or emphasize within the game.

Using such field of creative deliberation to redeem the men that actively harmed her is such a gross way to use that play pen.

To get into some interpretations

A pretty important moment occurs after Anya runs out of the medical room during the painkiller scene with the thought:

"I have to believe that our worst moments don't make us monsters"

I think there are quite a few different ways to take this line in this moment, but to share my own perspective I believe it most likely stems from these potential factors:

Anya is trying to maintain a metric of empathy and trust to continue to control herself in the current conditions and stresses she's under at this moment. The needs of the crew can not be upheld without this kind of thinking while under the orders of her abuser.

Anya still cares for Curly and is disconnecting the harm he caused from the rest of his humanity as a person who is also suffering.

Anya is reflecting on her own legitimacy while the internalized trauma she went through makes her feel alienated from herself. Accepting the actual piece of shit that is Curly allows her to hold faith in herself as a person through the shared correlation of pain and "mistakes" as she percieves it bonding her with Curly.

While somewhat ambigous I think its important to generally understand these types of potential layers when interacting with the themes and subjects presented by Anya as a character. Ideas which are critical and dissective of Anya as an actual Subject above a simple generalized understanding of her peripherally as a victim.

also Idea 2 doesn't make Curly vindicated. Curly was the only member that Gave Anya some sense of care (As ingenuine as that care was). That dependency is toxic and was unfortuately potentially of mental necessity to Her. To reframe it as a point for Curly to show he was better than what he presented himself to be so deeply annoys me with how uncritical that reframing is when addressing the actual faults and mentality that led him to his bedridden state. With how little Anya is already focused on, it feels like that interpretation and dynamic hands Curly the position of "Subject" while Anya still remains an "Event" to some people.

That kind of thinking not only significantly reeks of a lack of indulgence in actually trying to further interpret the facets presented in Anya's character, position, and mental state, but also dilutes the meaning to be had in analyzing Curly as an enabler. The framing of Curly as an "Enabler in Rehab" or "Tragic Casualty" feels so utterly ignorant, redundant, and enigmatic to my senses when he is so utterly undeserving compared to Anya who barely gets any other elaboration or analysis from the community outside of "awww wasn't that sad" or sensationalization around "The Event".

I WOULD go into Anya's logic leading up to her death, but thats a post and analysis for a different tumblr user to take care of. I honestly just gradually have developed new ways to hate the Mouthwashing fandom, so I really needed this to make mental space for the next few horrible bizarre takes i'll inevitably see about this game.

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 52

ao3 link| part 1 . . . part 49, part 50, part 51

Wayne had a bed. The “For Sale” sign in the front lawn of the Harrington’s house has a giant red “Sold” sticker. Boxes fill the trunks of cars, and all the lights go dim. Every speck of life from that house, what little there was, is gone.

They were ready to move on. Move forward. Together.

There was no going back once his truck left this driveway. This would be the last time that he would ever live in a house larger than his own imagination. Larger than his dreams could afford. Living here was never permanent, but it was safe. A space that he came home to and felt at peace. Knowing that his nephew was there, alive, that there were people that cared about them. More than he thought they should, but they did anyway.

It was unbelievable, really. Knowing how many people rally together to help people they barely know. How Wayne deserved that, how he was able to get it at all, he will never know. He’s still wondering when they will all up and leave daily. He’s been fighting on his own for most of his life, he doesn’t know what to do with the small army that’s rallied behind him. Behind Eddie. Any of it.

When the key turns in the lock of his new home, it feels like the first time. Like it knows that this time he walks through the door, it’s permanent. Tonight, will be the first night of his new life. Almost a fresh start. He can hold it in his hands, but it doesn’t feel real.

Steve and Eddie walk in a bit later. Steve with two duffle bags slung over his shoulders. Ever since Wayne’s known about them, they’ve hid their relationship less. Still a bit when the kids are around, but once you see it, you can’t unsee it. He still has his worries, but they seem to be working together. Figuring it out as they go. Trying, failing, and trying again.

He’s never seen them so happy. Not this kind of happy at least. As they walk down the hall to Eddie’s room, laughing about something that Wayne doesn’t even know, it makes him smile. It brings a light to this house that only makes it shine.

Wayne’s room isn’t anything special, plain walls and carpet flooring. But it doesn’t matter. He has a door. He hasn’t had one of those since Eddie moved in. He has a closet. A small closet, but a closet none-the-less. He has a space of his own, one he has no clue what to do with, but can’t wait to find out.

The bed gets made; his clothes get unpacked. It still looks so bare, but it’s growing. Everything’s growing.

For the past few months, it was one thing after another. Running so fast and hoping that everything was done right in between. There were so many mistakes, so many changes. So many things Wayne wants to take back but never can. His life changed, for worse, and for better. Funny how change can do that.

“Wayne, what pizza toppings do you want?” Eddie yells from the kitchen. He had to make it through several walls now, they weren’t in such close quarters anymore.

“The regular,” he yells back. Hoping it was loud enough to hear.

The first night is good. The three of them at the kitchen table, laughing. Ready for something new. When Wayne went to sleep that night, it was the most peace he’d had in a while. Every little worry he had was put on hold. Let him finally rest, so he can continue with everything else tomorrow.

The doorbell rings in the mid-morning. Dustin waiting behind it with a casserole dish.

“My mom sends her congratulations on the house,” he says, pushing the casserole in his hands. “I’d say this is the last of it, but that would be a lie.”

Wayne laughs, nodding for Dustin to come in. “I’m surprised you guys didn’t throw a welcome party or anything. Thought you would be the group to do that.”

“Eddie talked us out of it, said it wouldn’t be what you wanted.”

“Well, he’s right. Can I get you anything?”

He shakes his head. “No, I’m heading over to Mike’s. We’re doing this summer campaign that he made with Will and it’s taking forever.” He’s silent for a moment, before continuing, “I still can’t believe you guys actually moved.”

“Crazy how life moves sometimes, right? I’d never thought I be able to have a place like this.”

There’s a crackle coming from Dustin’s backpack, a muffled voice coming through.

“I gotta go, hope you like the casserole, but don’t let my mom know that unless you expect a dozen more.”

Wayne follows Dustin out, grabbing the morning paper while he watches him bike away. It’s crazy how he’s seen that boy become the shell of a person after that week, and slowly come back to the person he is. Not quite fully there yet, but close.

It’s even crazier how the boys eventually emerge from Eddie’s bedroom and get food. How Wayne can just faintly hear the clink of mugs as they get coffee. The crash of dishes as they make something to eat. The noise used to echo through their little space before, now is muffled by the wall that separates them.

“Paper’s here,” Wayne says when he enters the kitchen, tossing it on the table.

“Thank you.” Steve puts down his coffee to go and grab the paper, flipping to the ads about vacancies.

“Anything new?” Eddie asks, eating some cereal at the table.

Steve shakes his head. “Not yet, I’ll check the other ones when I go to work though.”

“Game’s on tonight, want me to tape it for you?” Wayne asks.

“That would be great, thank you.”

Eddie groans. “The fact that I live with two sports fans is something I never thought would happen.”

Wayne pushes off the doorway. “Well, you’ve been living with one for years, so I think you can learn to deal with it.”

He leaves them to their breakfast, looking around to find something to do. There’re a few things he found at the thrift store he’s still trying to find the right spot to hang. A new shelf, picture frames waiting to be filled, a painting he liked. All things to help him make this the place he always dreamed, even if it was already there.

At night, when the door closes behind him and he lays in his bed, he can still hear the movement in the house. The patter of feet as they walk down the hall and the creaks of floorboards. The thump of Eddie’s can or his crutches. The water flowing through the taps, and the music coming from the room across the hall.

All of it, everything, was more than he ever dreamed. The people that stuck by him, stood up for his family, are now his friends. A community that welcomed him with open arms. His nephew is getting better. Learning how to manage his new life, in all the aspects of it. A person who not only opened his doors for them, but wanted to stay even when there wasn’t enough to give back.

What started in uncomfortable hospital chairs landed him in a plush bed, in a house that is his own. Pain transformed into hope he couldn’t even conceive. Life moved, and he moved with it. Funny how it landed him here, happier than he’s been in a long time.

A laugh forms in his chest, and he frees it.

“What’s so funny,” Eddie asks, walking over to the couch.

“Nothing,” Wayne shakes his head. “Nothing at all.”

Note: Wayne's pov is now complete. One more chapter of Dustin's pov before we start the epilogue.

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[awriterinthenight]

"I Have What?"

requested: @narkissistikos

words: 3267

warnings: swearing, suicide references, reader gets attacked, (I know the title is kinda bad, but if you read the story, then it's kinda funny), Miranda is actually a bitch like I hate people like her

summary: You're a mortal who keeps seeing weird monsters, but everyone thinks you're crazy, so when you're at an amusement park and get attacked by a monster, you meet the one and only Luke Castellan

Everyone said you were crazy, that none of it was real. Your parents didn't believe you, they thought you just had a wild imagination, your friends tried to ignore the weird things you told them about, and everyone judged you when they would you talk of monsters. Monsters weren't real was what everyone told you, but you would swear on the gods that they were, and that you could see them.

Eventually you were brought to a doctor, but they also called you crazy, an attention seeker, or that you just had a wild imagination. Everyone thought you just saw these things because you were always cooped up in your room drawing fantasy creatures from old myths. Your doctor recommended going outside, hanging out with friends, and trying to forget all the weird things you believed you say.

So once your parents told your friends, your friends decided what better to do than bring you to an amusement park. How could you not have fun there with the endless rides, greasy food, and the sound of hundreds of screaming kids? So fun (I'm being sarcastic).

You needed this, which was a major lie your friends and family told you. Just like every rich family, they can't have their little screw up who might be crazy, being shown out in public that way. So now here you are, three doctors, a bunch of medication that didn't work, and about 20 cover ups of your "stunts" (as your parents called them), later in your own personal hell, have fun.

"First we should do the Tilt-A-Whirl, then we can go on the bumper cars, then get food, then head to the Ferris Wheel," Stephanie said. With her everything had to be planned out, which wasn't so bad, but sometimes it sucked since then no one could divert from the schedule.

"I think that guy is looking at me. Do you think he's cute? Cause he's cute," Miranda said, looking at something that looked like it crawled onto Earth. Miranda was one of those girls who only talked about guys, and by the time you had a full conversation with her, you'd wish someone would pick her already.

Now you might be thinking, 'why would you be friends with those two if they made you want to jump off the top of the Ferris Wheel'. Well Little Sally, the only reason we hangout with them is because we have to. Stephanie was your mom's best friend's daughter, so if you two weren't friends then apparently your mom's had failed as friends, which made zero sense, but whatever. And Miranda was apparently a package deal (that no one ordered) with Stephanie.

The only decent one in your group was Christina. She didn't talk much, but the glances the two of you sent each other were louder than Miranda's laugh when a guy was around. Christina had been your friend since the beginning of middle school, and for some reason stuck around till now. She was your only real friend in your life, and the only one who cared. She might've thought you were also a bit crazy, but hey, it at least made you funny.

"Let's just get this over with," you said, walking towards the Tilt-A-Whirl.

Miranda groaned, "Don't be such a bummer, we're here to have fun," you and Miranda probably would've murdered each other by now if it wasn't for Christina reminding you that colleges don't accept you if you have a murder charge.

You rolled your eyes, turning away from her as Christina spoke to you, "If you don't upset her too much, then I'll buy you a slushie as compensation."

"Fine, but only if it's blue," you only drank blue slushies, they were like crack to you. You had made it through the Tilt-A-Whirl without hurling the two girls off the ride, and had made it through bumper cars with running them over either, so a wins a win I guess.

You were getting food now, since you were more likely to murder someone on an empty stomach, which was not a good thing when Miranda was around. Christina was busy getting you guys slushies like she promised you, while Miranda was flirting with the cashier when she was supposed to be getting you burgers. You stood in line for cheese fries when something caught your eye.

'Was that a snake!' you questioned yourself, as you swore you saw a snake slither out of the hat the cashier at the popcorn stand was wearing. You tried to slow down your breathing since it sped up from the shock. 'It's just another reason they think you're crazy. Don't let them think you're crazy’ the words everyone told you ringing through your head again.

The guy behind you seemed to notice that you seemed a bit out of it, "Cool shirt," he said, referring to your AC/DC shirt.

It caught you off guard, and you had to look down at what shirt you were wearing, "What- oh, uh thanks," you managed to stumble out, a bit embarrassed since the guy was kind of cute, but you have bigger problems right now.

"Are you okay?" he asked, seeming to be concerned about you in your shocked state. I'll take things that have never happened before for 500 Alex.

You looked up at him, taking in his brown hair and the scar on his face, "I-I'm fine," you told him, trying to think of an excuse since telling a stranger you saw a snake in someone's hair is something only bat-shit crazy people say, "I just witnessed someone sneeze into the popcorn, not something you usually want to see when you're about to eat," you lied, or at least tried to. How the fuck does someone know if their bad at lying or not? Welp, guess it's up the gods if he thinks I'm weird or not, oh look nothing new.

Surprisingly he let out a small chuckle, "I never trust any of the food here, I'm just getting some for my friends," he said.

You nodded, your mind still a bit distant. The strange guy nudged you a bit, "Hey, you're next," he said, since the person in front of you left.

"Oh, thanks, sorry," you said, quickly before walking up to the cashier. That was the last you said to the mystery guy, since he didn't talk to you again after you ordered. You made your way over to your friends, sitting down next to Christina.

"Oh my god," Miranda started, as you started to want to gouge out your eyeballs, "Who was that guy you were talking to? He was so cute, do you think he has a girlfriend?" she asked, then continued to talk about him, asking a million questions that you wouldn't know since you talked to him for not even a minute, and it was a lie you told, so that you didn't look fucking crazy.

"I don't know Miranda. I talked to him for like 30 seconds and it was about some lady who sneezed into the popcorn, by the way, don't get popcorn," you told her, fed up with her million questions.

Stephanie eyed you and said, "You don't need to be so rude, she was just asking," that's it you were jumping off the Ferris Wheel.

Christina could sense the tension, so she intervened, "Did you guys see Evan and Quinn walking around? I didn't even know they were going out," she gossiped, since it was the best diversion to use on the two. You zoned out, preferring to keep you sanity. Which was ironic since when you looked at the lady at the cotton candy stall, you swore she had wings, fangs, and claw-like hands. Okay, maybe you were fucking crazy.

The other weird thing was then when you looked back she looked like a normal person again. Even weirder was that the brown haired stranger looked at her too, then right at you. Something was definitely going on, but you sure as hell don't want to know.

You and your friends were about to head onto the Ferris Wheel, but something inside you told you not to.

"Stop being such a loser," Miranda complained, since she always had to have a problem with you.

"Stop being such a bitch, then maybe I will," you said, walking away. That wasn't your best comeback, but it'll do for now. You stood by yourself against a fence, contemplating why you didn't get on the Ferris Wheel. Was it A) the thought of being high up with Miranda was too tempting to push her off, and you didn't need a felony charge, B) that food was not sitting right, or C) did it have something to do with that the lady from the popcorn stand who now had wings, fangs, and snakes for hair, was about to attack the brown hair boy from earlier. If you picked C) then ding, ding, ding, we have a winner.

Shit.

You ran forward, pulling the boy back by his shirt before she could attack. His friends turned to look at the boy now on the ground, as you felt the greatest humiliation ever. The lady was gone, now making you look like a crazy person who attacked someone for no reason.

"What the hell is wrong with you," he yelled out in anger, dusting himself off as he stood up.

You stumbled back, confused to what had just happened, "I-I," you could barely make out any words, "I swore I...fuck," you said, running into the nearest bathroom to hide in.

You were crazy, you were bat-shit crazy. You were seeing things. Everyone was right. There's something incredibly wrong with you. Why would you do that?

In the midst of trying to call yourself down, you didn't even notice the woman next to you washing her hands, "You're really pretty, it's a shame what I'm about to do to you," she said, making you scared? confused? You didn't know anymore.

"Wha-what," was all you could stumble out, taking a step back.

She let out a breath, "You keep getting in my way, and I can't have that," she shouted at you, before lunging to attack. You had some self defence lessons, plus the skills from random rich people activities like fencing, plus great fight or flight instincts, so before she could rip your throat out, you dodged to the side. She ran into the sink, breaking it which probably hurt like a bitch.

Are you crazy, or are you crazy? Is what you kept asking yourself. The weird lady (more like a creature thing, since she had her wings and fangs back) lunged at you again, but you ran out of the bathroom this time.

You'd made it a good distance away from the bathroom when you accidentally ran into someone, literally. Your face hit their chest, making you stumble back a bit, and you would've fallen if it weren't for someone else catching you.

To your horror it was the boy and his group of friends from earlier. And to make it worse he was the one who caught you, "I got you," he said, "Now where is she?" he asked, his voice sounding rather urgent.

Your brain was still spinning as you tried to process everything, "Wha-what, you can see them?" you asked, entirely confused as to how they knew the things you kept seeing.

"Yes, but that's a conversation for later. Where did you last see her?" the girl of the group asked, and may you add, she seemed a lot scarier than everyone else.

You took a moment to catch your breath, "The bathrooms by the food stalls. It was the one from the popcorn stand, she tried attacking me," you told her, knowing that sentence sounded a bit crazy.

The boy still holding onto you nodded to the rest of the group, which consisted of 2 others, "Stay here," he said, as he started to head off with the others.

You snapped out of your dazed state and caught the boy's hand, "Wait, first tell what those things are," you demanded, finally wanting to know what the things you were seeing actually were.

"Later, just stay here for now," he said, trying to pull his hand away, but failing. Luckily for you (and unluckily for him) you were a pretty strong person.

"No," you said, standing your ground, "I've spent my entire life terrorised by those things, and now I have a chance for answers, so just tell what they are."

The boy seemed to have to bite back a smile, "You're feisty, you know that," he said, only making you more annoyed.

"And you're an asshole, are we going to spend the entire time naming each other's flaws, or are you going to tell me," you retorted.

He let out a sigh before speaking, "Let me go and I'll tell you, promise," he said, you had no other option so you let go, and trusted he would tell you, "Their gorgons, but I'm guessing you've seen other monsters. Do you know both of your parents?"

That was a weird fucking question, but not the weirdest thing to happen to you, "Why would you ask that, what relevance does that have to any of this?" you questioned.

"I-I just-" he said, trailing off when his friends had returned, but this time being attacked by gorgons, "shit." He then left you standing there, as he pulled out a sword from some random object. What the actual fuck is going on.

You watched the three people fight, as the people around you minded their own business, steering clear of the fight. How were they so calm, could they not see what was going on? You were too caught up in your thoughts to notice the dagger coming straight at your face. The boy turned around, a look of horror, then relief washed over him, as the blade went straight through you, falling onto the ground.

At that moment the boy realized you were mortal, and you realized your life is fucked up. Once again snapping out of your daze, you say the girl on the ground with the gorgon about to attack her. Without thinking (let's be honest, when do you ever think) you grabbed the dagger, throwing it at the gorgon. It hit her straight in the neck, causing her to fall to the ground and disappear.

The two boys quickly killed the other gorgon, helping up the girl as they made their way towards you, "You okay?" the brown hair boy asked.

"Oh, you know just another Tuesday," you said, your voice full of sarcasm.

"It's Saturday," the other boy said, not getting your sarcasm.

The girl hit him on the chest, "She's being sarcastic, dumbass. He's not the brightest person."

You nodded, "So, why can I only see the monsters, what are these monsters? Who are you guys? Why could no one see what was going on? Why did that dagger-" you were cut off by the boy with the scars, whose name you still didn't know, which was annoying.

"Woah, calm down," you shot him a glace, since that definitely wasn't the best thing to say in this situation, "You can see the monsters cause you have clear sight," he explained as if that made any sense.

"I have what?" you asked, still confused.

The boy seemed a bit apprehensive about telling you more, due to...issues we won't get into right at this moment, so the girl spoke up, "It means you can see through the mist," which once again did not help.

"That also doesn't explain shit, what even is the mist?" you asked, wanting someone to explain to you what was fully going on.

The other boy spoke up, "Should we tell her everything, or maybe bring her to Chiron?" he asked.

The boy went to speak, but the scary girl spoke first, "We can't just leave her clueless, we have to tell her."

"It could make her life worse though," the brown haired boy said.

They continued to argue until you spoke up, "Are you going to keep talking about me like I'm not here, or are you going to explain?" you asked, frustrated by what was going on.

"Look just let us talk for a moment," he said, before leaning closer to you, "Then we'll tell you everything, I promise," he said, his voice now rather low.

You knew better than to trust the word of a pretty boy, but dam was it hard not to, "Fine, but you better explain everything." The boy nodded, walking over to his friends as they huddled to talk. They weren't that quiet so you could hear almost everything. Something about a camp, and someone named Chiron, and how it would be a lot for you, and blah blah blah.

Their huddle came to an end when the other boy who didn't talk much shouted, "Would your parents care if you were missing for a little bit?"

Normally that would be a weird question, but nothing seemed to bother you anymore, "I don't even think they would notice if I disappeared for a year," you shouted back.

The boy approached you again, his friends standing a little ways away from you two, "We're going to take you somewhere where everything can be explained to you. You don't have to go, but if you want answers it might be your best bet, since it's a lot," he explained.

"I want answers, but why should I travel to some mysterious place, with three strangers whose names I don't even know," you countered, a bit sceptical.

"Fair point," he said, "Then here, I'm Luke Castellan," he held out his hand for you to shake.

The dumb gesture made you smile, something you hadn't done all day, "Y/N L/N," you introduced, still holding onto his hand.

Luke could feel his heart speed up a bit from how you were still holding his hand, and the fact that he made you smile, "Will you come with us now?" he asked hopefully, "I promise you won't regret it."

"That's usually something someone says before they do something regretful, but fine, I'll go," you said, watching his face light up with excitement.

"Great, my friends will get us set up to go, just know the way there may be a bit unconventional," he said, still holding onto your hand.

"I would expect nothing less," you joked, excited about what the future held for you.

You two waited for Luke's friends to come back, and made small talk trying to get to know each other, "I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier," he said, referring to when you made him fall down.

"In my defence I was trying to save you from a gorgon," you said, trying to not be embarrassed by your actions.

"My hero," he joked, as his friends arrived with the chariot.

"I don't think anything can surprise me anymore," you uttered, no longer surprised by the weird things you saw.

Luke let out a chuckle, "Oh trust me princess, there's a lot crazier things in this world that will surprise you," he said, the name sliding off his tongue by accident.

You tried to not let the effect the name had on you show, but you rather liked it. You didn't know what the future held for you and Luke, but you were rather excited for it. Unlike Clarisse and Ethan who already wanted to jump out of the chariot.

Current Taglist (ask to be added)

@almost-gabrielle @scarlett-8 @atashiboba @that1deerpersondownstairs @herondale-lightworm

[silentscrying]

🎸 out of my mind ! 💿 track two: kowalski, status report

guitarist!ino x drummer!reader

summary: it's the annual battle of the bands at the fix, your college campus's iconic live music bar, and this year you're taking the stage as the drummer for indie rock group cursed technique. you know the competition is strong, but no part of you is ready for lead singer and guitarist takuma ino. you lock eyes at the edge of the stage, and something starts—something that might make you feel alive even more than the beat of the drums.

warnings: language, alcohol, mentions of drugs/drug dealing, toge bullying, unbearably cute dogs. || sfw. 9k words.

"I SHOULDN'T CUSS in this, right?"

It’s the day before the other four artists premiere their sets at Battle of the Bands, and you haven’t been home since six in the morning. You’re running on caffeine and spite and the pursuit of the story, parked on a high stool across the bar from the one and only Ieiri Shoko.

Toge leans on the counter beside you, opting to stand. He’s agreed to pay for the next snack run in return for you letting him be your partner. You both know you’re going to end up doing most of the writing, but you don’t really mind. Toge would if you asked him to, but you love this kind of thing in a way he just doesn’t. Plus, he’s better with a camera than you, and he’s taking photos tomorrow night.

You laugh, pulling out your phone to record. “You can say whatever you want as long as it’s honest. Be candid.”

“You might regret saying that!” Gojo calls from the back, and Shoko silences him with a glare.

“Are you coming or not?”

Gojo grins and finishes up whatever he’s putting away in the storage room, then strides out and leans his elbows on the counter.

“Do you mind if I record?” You point to the open voice memo app. “Makes it easier to quote you correctly.” You also just hate running interviews when you’re scribbling hand-written notes the whole time. You’d much rather have a genuine conversation and worry about the details later.

Shoko waves a hand airily. “No problem.”

“Absolutely,” Gojo says. “You can probably sell that for thousands.”

You set the phone on the counter, next to one of the tiny pumpkins scattered across it in celebration of the beginning of October. You and Toge bounce back and forth as you run through the standard start-of-interview checklist, having them spell out their names, getting their ages, hometowns, degrees, all that jazz. And then you launch into the stuff you really care about.

“So, you opened The Fix about ten years ago now, correct?”

Shoko nods. “Yeah, a little over two years after we graduated.”

You look at Gojo, whose eyes are even more alarmingly blue in the daylight. “And you were hired right away?”

“Utahime first, then me,” he nods. “Best for last, y’know.”

Shoko snorts. “We knew each other in school. I just took pity on him.” She smirks as Gojo’s jaw drops. “You can quote that.”

“Right, so all of you were friends in college. And you came together to start this place—what was the idea behind it?” Toge chimes in. “You said you studied nursing, Shoko?”

And you sit and listen as Shoko explains. Back in college, she was at the top of her class. By graduation, she’d been accepted to basically all the best med schools. She had her pick. She could do whatever she wanted. But she realized that what she wanted wasn’t that at all.

The medical field is brutal, she tells you. It’s all late nights and emotional burnout. People yelling at you, misplaced anger when you give them the bad news. Getting attached to people only to watch them waste away.

“I needed to get out before I got too far in. Maybe it was selfish,” she admits. “But I wasn’t cut out for it. I have so much admiration for medical professionals, but I couldn’t be one of them. A few clinicals and I was already feeling the consequences of giving too much of myself and getting nothing back.” She shrugs. “So I named it The Fix, as some kind of homage to the medical background. And I figured I’d just make sure it’s safe.”

Something sits heavy in her gaze as she stares at something behind you, middle distance, like she’s remembering.

“Why a college bar?” you ask, nudging the phone across the counter to pick up her voice better. “I mean, the extra security, thinking about underage drinking, dealing with a bunch of broke university kids. You could’ve just as easily opened a different bar in a more lucrative area. What was the appeal?”

She smiles crookedly. “Appeal. Well. My senior year, I was working in the local ER. And I saw… god. So many kids came in there needing their stomachs pumped, or kids who’d done laced drugs, gotten roofied, harassed, it was… I mean, it was a city university club scene. They weren’t safe. And I just felt like I needed to give them that. I couldn’t stay there as a nurse or a doctor. But I could do this.” She shrugs. “Sorry. That was probably way too much.”

“No,” you say quickly, smiling at her. “That was—that’s what we came here for. Shoko, that’s amazing. And it’s not selfish, taking care of yourself. You’re still here taking care of others.”

You don’t know Gojo well. Most of your stories about him come secondhand from Nobara, who knows him through Megumi. She paints the picture of a flamboyant, obnoxious bartender who’s more like a weird uncle to her than anything. From what you’ve seen of him at The Fix, you know this to be mostly accurate—he’s rarely serious, always taking flack from the students and giving it right back, ragging on Utahime, begging Shoko to play his playlist instead of Geto’s and knowing she’ll never cave. But now, as he listens intently to Shoko, you think you’re seeing another side of him.

There’s something troubled on his face as she speaks, like he wishes he could reach into the past and help. Like he regrets it.

The bar’s not the only thing that has a different side in the daylight.

“She’s right,” Gojo tells Shoko. It’s not much, but she looks up at him a bit surprised, something in her expression softening. A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, not quite there but not quite not. “You’ve got a pretty big heart under all that RBF.” Shoko rolls her eyes, the moment over.

“What about you?” You turn to Gojo, nudging the phone his way. “Why a college bar?”

Shoko turns toward him, leaning a hip against the bar, just as curious as you are. “I think kids deserve to be kids,” he shrugs. “And if I—if we—can create a space where it’s actually safe for them to do that, it feels important.” His gaze shifts from you and Toge to the empty bar, the stage and floor and high-top tables that tomorrow will be full of music and laughter and students knowing they’re allowed to let loose here.

“There aren’t a lot of places out there that are exclusively for students,” he continues. “It’s this weird phase, college, where you’re figuring out who you are, trying to take risks without losing too much. It’s a lot. And you look at the crime rates, date rape drugs, theft, DUIs, in the city, and it’s just—this place gives them the room to learn and grow and mess around and have a good time without the danger of the… I don’t know. The outside world. Does that make sense?”

He drums his fingers on the countertop, then seems to abruptly remember the recording and stops. “I think it’s just… well, no one’s allowed to take youth away from young people. So that’s why I’m here.”

You wonder what Gojo was like in school. He majored in gender studies, which you’re pretty sure is what Todo is at least minoring in, too—you’re not sure how it’s applicable to anything, but Nobara says he likes to pull his diploma out from behind the bar and say he’s an expert in women. It seems a far cry from this rare, more subdued version of Gojo you’re seeing right now. You’d guess he’s grown quite a bit in the time he’s been here. And Shoko’s been here to witness it.

He’s not a business owner, like Shoko or Geto. And according to Nobara, he definitely doesn’t need this gig to make a living. He’s here because he wants to be.

“These last few years have been nice, in particular,” he offers. “Just ‘cause some of us have kids going here. I mean, you know the Fushiguros. Suguru’s got the twins. And I know Ino’s not Nanami’s kid, but they’re tight.”

“Wait, what?” Nanami is the bar’s primary security guy, a bouncer who never lets a fake ID fool him. He’s part of the reason this place is so safe. Toge spins to look at you as you blurt out the question, caught off guard. “Uh, sorry. I just didn’t—I didn’t know they knew each other.”

Shoko studies you with tired, intelligent eyes, and you can’t help but feel the tables have been entirely flipped. You’re the one being interrogated, wordlessly, by the woman across the counter. You feel like every thought in your head is scrawled across your face for her to read.

“Yeah,” Gojo says, unaffected. “Ino looks up to him a lot, I think. Even though he’s an old man who reads the newspaper for fun.” He snorts. “He’s a good guy, though. And Ino’s a good kid.” He finally clocks the way Shoko’s looking at you and cocks his head, appraising.

Thankfully, Toge cuts in with another question. “So, we’ll be around tomorrow for the bands and to take some photos and observe,” he explains, glancing at you to make sure he’s got the information right. “Will Geto be around?” You’d wanted both owners’ perspectives, and now that Gojo’s reminded you of the twins, you’re even more curious.

“Yeah, Suguru and Utahime will be here tomorrow night,” Shoko says. “And Nanami. Geto would totally be down to talk to you some other time, too, when it’s a bit quieter.”

“Amazing,” you say, pulling the phone back toward you. You’ll need details, follow-ups, but you need to process this first, write some things down while they’re fresh in your mind. ‘Thank you so much for this. We appreciate it.”

“Anytime, kid,” Shoko says, waving you off. “See you tomorrow.”

As you turn off the recording, Gojo and Toge have already devolved into conversation about the bands and predictions about tomorrow night. A few posters are scattered across a low table near the door, and you pick one up, smiling at the blocky lettering advertising Black Flash. There are posters advertising all of the artists, and they look amazing, straight out of one of the alt rock venues in the wider city.

“They’re sick, right?” Gojo calls, nodding to the posters. “I gotta hang those up, actually. Thanks for the reminder.”

You wave goodbye to Shoko and Gojo and lead the way out, Toge just behind you.

“Man,” he says, and you brace yourself, recognizing his teasing tone for what it is. “They said Ino’s name and you look like scared Bambi or some shit.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, elbowing him.

He holds his hands up. “I’m just living in pursuit of the truth! Like Kusakabe would want.”

“Is your camera battery charged for tomorrow?” you say in a blatant attempt at a topic change.

“Who do you think I am?”

“Toge Inumaki, chronically irresponsible student and—”

“Okay, sorry I asked, holy shit.” He sticks his tongue out at you. Then he hesitates, frowning, and then he’s pulling out his phone and calling someone in his favorites list before you can see who it is. “Hey,” he greets. “What? No, she didn’t kick me out. Hey. Hey.” You snicker and Toge glares at you, pressing the phone closer to his ear. “Yutaaa,” he whines. “Do you know where my camera battery is?”

—

Even when you’re not the one on stage, you live for Fridays at The Fix. Tonight you’re doing double duty—because of the dual elimination at the end of the round, all of the competing artists are here. It’s not a requirement, but you want to see what you’re up against, and the sentiment seems to have carried. You and Toge are also in reporting mode for your project story.

The band on stage right now is… well, you can’t say new wave metal is really your thing, but it’s definitely theirs, and the audience is loving it. The Cull, you write in your notes. Look up names.

You couldn’t make out the lyrics if your life depended on it. It’s three guys and a girl, vaguely familiar, but you’re fairly certain they’re seniors and absolutely certain they’re baked right now.

“God, this is loud.” Yuta winces, turning to face you, and then his eyes flicker to something over your shoulder. You divert your attention from the stage and just catch the brief commotion in your periphery. Nanami has a kid by the elbow, and he’s escorting him out the side door, expressionless. The kid’s obviously drunk out of his mind, tripping over himself, shouting something that Nanami doesn’t bother to respond to.

Maki follows your gaze and wrinkles her nose up in distaste.

“Who’s that?”

“My cousin,” she says flatly. You glance quizzically at Megumi, who is definitely standing five feet away and not being escorted out of the bar.

“Dude, how much family do you have at this school?”

She sighs. “Just Mai and Megumi and him. Naoya. He’s a piece of shit.”

“Clearly,” Toge says. “He broke the M theme. No respect for the family alliteration.” Maki kicks him in the shin.

“One last round for The Cull!” Panda calls from the stage, and your ears slowly, very gradually stop ringing with the raging new wave music. The stage techs get to work behind Panda as he introduces the next group.

“Up next, making their debut, we’ve got a sophomore girl pop trio. Give it up for MOTION CAPTURE!”

There’s a big cheer from the bar, and you turn to see Geto grinning. Three girls take the stage, the blonde one grabbing the mic and adding, “All caps!” The girl beside her is very obviously her twin sister, though her hair is straight and dark while the blonde’s is tugged into pigtails. Light and dark. The girl on keys has a long, black bubble braid that she pushes out of the way as she settles in to play.

The blonde plugs in her electric and calls out, “Alright, I’m Nanako.” She tests out a chord, the sound reverberating, filling the bar all the way up to its high ceilings. “That’s Mimiko, that’s Remi, and we’re just here to have a good time.”

“Hey,” a voice says behind you, and you jump. You turn to find Takuma holding two drinks, offering one to you.

“Oh! Aw, thanks, you didn’t have to do that. How much do I owe you?”

He rolls his eyes. “Nothing.”

“Takuma—”

“Nothing,” he reiterates. “Anyway, The Cull. Thoughts?”

You take the drink and try it while you think on your answer—it’s the same thing Nobara got you last week. How did he know?

“I didn’t really understand any of the lyrics,” you admit, shrugging. “They weren’t bad. Not really my genre. Do you know them?”

Takuma shakes his head. “I had a gen ed once with that Rin kid, but I don’t know the other ones. These girls aren’t bad, though.” He’s right—they’ve launched into an Olivia Rodrigo cover that’s actually decent. They could work on their voice control, but they’re young and fun and having a good time and working the crowd, and that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?

You sing along, alternating between your drink and exchanging quips with Toge and talking with Takuma. You like this new balance between your band and his, the easy camaraderie.

When the girls wrap up their set, you whoop and cheer and Kirara shamelessly watches Hakari move things off the stage, arms bare in his cut-off tank.

“You’re subtle,” Takuma tells her, and she tugs his beanie down over his face.

“Hey!”

You grab his drink before he can spill it and grin as he yanks his hat off and readjusts it. His hair is a fluffy mess underneath, and it’s kind of endearing.

When the girl pop trio is done, two guys take the stage, one in white and one in black. They’re clearly related, dark hair and pale skin and piercing eyes, and Panda introduces them as the Kamos. You don’t know if they’re brothers or cousins or what. But they’re good—they sing a few alt rock covers, play guitar.

“Damn,” Nobara sighs, a little longingly, her gaze settling on Choso as he takes over the chorus. “They’re…”

Beside her, Yuji wrinkles his nose. “Dude. That’s my half-brother.”

Nobara hums noncommittally. “And?”

He groans, tipping his head back and staring at the exposed beams of the ceiling, run through with colored lights. “Why does this always happen?”

Toge is taking more photos of them than is strictly necessary, considering your story is about the bar and not the band, but you let him have this. Scattered throughout the crowd are more kids with cameras, freshmen from the entry-level reporting classes with big underage stamps on the backs of their hands. Somebody mistook Toge for one of them earlier, and Maki hasn’t let it go all night.

You jot down atmospheric notes on your phone, little things that’ll help set the scene for your project lede, keeping an eye on the bar as much as you can. Geto has jumped in at the bar, which he usually does when the place gets busy, and Gojo is terrorizing Utahime again.

“How’d your interview go?” Takuma asks, nodding at your notes. It shouldn’t faze you so much that he remembers what you told him about your story, but you can’t help the little kick of your heart in your chest at the reminder.

“Good! Really good.” And then you catch sight of Nanami, back at the door after calling a cab for Maki’s asshat cousin. “Actually, Gojo mentioned you.”

Takuma’s brows shoot up. “Gojo? Why?”

Nanami has always seemed incredibly reserved, stony and silent in a way Takuma has never been. You don’t want to pry, but you’re also curious about the relationship between them, how they met, what they are to each other. The journalist in you wants to know.

And then there’s the part of you that just wants to know Takuma.

“Well, he was talking about the twins and the Fushiguros, and he kind of mentioned something about you knowing Nanami?” You try to sound casual, jerking your chin toward the door where Nanami is posted, like a tall, blond guard dog.

“Oh,” he says, surprised, but he shrugs, not seeming too alarmed by the question. “Yeah, I’ve known Nanami for… a long time. He’s kind of a mentor. He’s the reason I met Fushiguro in the first place, actually, ‘cause of him knowing Gojo.”

You’re considering asking how exactly they did meet when the Kamos wrap up, Nobara staring up at them dreamily, and the stage clears out for the final artist.

Whatever questions you had are thrown out the window, because you know who this is. Everyone knows who this is.

Fifth-year student and resident SoundCloud rapper, Ryomen Sukuna. Or D!SH0NORED1, according to the posters.

“Oh, here we go,” Megumi groans.

Despite his reputation on campus, you don’t know anyone who’s actually close to Sukuna, except Uruame. You mostly know that he deals at the skate park and that he’s clean about it.

And that his raps are truly, genuinely horrible.

He lets Panda give a stilted introduction and launches into a verse, mic too close to his mouth, making hand gestures or stepping to the beat of his backing track. His tattoos are even more stark and bold under the stage lights.

“My blood type’s B, your type is me, my zodiac Caprisun, it might be controversial but you’re still lookin’ at me, son!”

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” Kirara mutters. “I’m gonna bleach my eardrums.”

“Caprisun?” Nobara whispers. “Oh, dude.”

You might be a terrible person for thinking it, but watching this guy’s performance makes you feel infinitely better about your odds of advancing in the tournament.

His final song is a new one he introduces as Frosted Flexin’, and Maki looks like she’s about ready to keel over dead.

“Frosted flexin’, I'm the cereal king, pourin' oat milk in the mix, yeah, I'm doin' my thing,” Sukuna spits in his low voice, swaggering up to the front of the stage. You are trying so hard not to lose it.

“Sukuna being an oat milk truther wasn’t on my bingo card,” Toge says.

“Got the swag of a squirrel and the brain of a dove, call me trash, but you're still showin' me love.”

“Thoughts on the amount of swag a given squirrel possesses?” you ask Takuma. He laughs, loud and bright, and then seems to very seriously consider the question.

“I don’t know if campus squirrels have swag. They live in luxury. They probably eat better than we do,” he says. You can’t argue that—you did once see a squirrel outside your sociology class run by with a full bagel in its mouth. “The wilderness squirrels, though, I think they got a scrappy kind of swag. Like, I wouldn’t cross them.”

You nod sagely. “I want them on my team in the apocalypse.”

He nudges you with a shoulder. “Am I on your team?”

You glance at him, make a show of looking him up and down. Maybe you’re imagining it, but you think he’s blushing a little. “I don’t know. How fast can you climb a tree?”

Sukuna is nearing the end of his song, now, saying, “Off-tune, out of sync, yeah, I know it's a sin, but you'll play it back twice 'cause I still might win.”

He actually, physically drops the mic and Hakari swoops in and catches it, clearing his throat and saying into it, “Yep, friendly reminder that equipment’s expensive! Everyone give our last artist of the night a hand, yeah?”

There’s scattered applause and more than a few confused faces as Sukuna lopes off stage, and Panda hops back up to explain the voting system for anyone who wasn’t here last week. “QR codes to the Google form are posted around the bar,” he says.

Out of all eight artists, the bottom two will be eliminated. You’re nervous. But voting was open last week too. You can’t vote as a member of the band, and it’s all done through school Google accounts to avoid double votes or the link getting sent out to non-students.

“Open until tomorrow morning,” Panda reminds the audience. “Results and second round schedules will be posted on the Instagram at some point tomorrow! That’s it for this Friday at The Fix. Have a great night, folks. Get home safe.”

Gojo whoops dramatically from the bar, and Panda gives him a weird look before getting off stage.

Your friends start heading toward the door, and you grab Toge and excuse yourself to catch Geto at the bar. Gojo sees you first. “The newsies!” he calls.

“Like the musical?” you say in lieu of a greeting. “Banger soundtrack.”

“I could dance on newspapers,” Toge says.

“Geto!” The Fix’s other owner smiles at you, soft and genuine. Part of his dark hair is pulled back and the rest hangs loose over his shoulders, a stark contrast to Gojo—like the Kamos, you think, or like Nanako and Mimiko. Light and dark. “We were wondering if you’d be down to set up a time to talk. Has Gojo told you about our story at all?”

Geto smiles, drying a glass and leaning against the bar. “He told me he’s gonna be the front page of every paper in the city, which I assume is a horrid exaggeration,” he says. Gojo looks affronted. “Shoko mentioned you’re doing a feature for class, though. I’d be happy to.”

“We have our Monday night class time open for field reporting the week after this one,” Toge offers. “Will you be around?”

“I will indeed. Utahime, too, if you want to speak to both of us. And Gojo won’t be here, which might be beneficial for you.”

“Suguru,” Gojo gasps, pretending to stagger back. “You wound me.”

“Mhm,” he says, unaffected. “What time works best for you two?”

You set up a time to interview Geto and Utahime, then say goodbye to him and Gojo and run to catch up to your friends. It’s a nice night, and since you didn’t have to deal with instruments, you all decided to walk.

“How goes the… journalisming? Journaling?” Takuma asks when you fall into step beside him.

“Good, all good. Reporting is maybe a better word, but valiant effort.”

“I like journalisming. Can you just submit words to the official dictionary? I’m gonna do it.”

“No,” Toge says, and you blink. He shrugs. “What? I tried once. But the only submission form I could find was for the Bureau of Linguistical Reality and it wasn’t like, a legitimate dictionary form. There’s all these requirements, it’s horrible.”

“What word did you try to submit?” you ask warily, not sure if you actually want to know.

“Some things,” Toge says solemnly, “are better kept secret.”

The night is hazy, only small rays of moonlight piercing through the cloud cover, and you make your way through the campus roads guided only by the streetlamps and Maki’s reliable sense of direction.

Part of you wants to ask Takuma to come over, or Yuji to insist the band come over to his place again, just so you can keep talking. But you have work to do, things to write and transcribe, lists of follow-up questions to make, and that’s only your workload for this one class. You still have exams this week, and you need to study now so you can balance it with rehearsals. Assuming you actually advanced to round two, that is.

And part of you worries you might be taking this too fast, too. You don’t typically integrate people into your life so quickly. You like spending time with Takuma and Kirara and Yuji and even Megumi, though he’s pretty quiet. You just don’t want to jump in too far too fast.

At your place, you say your goodbyes and head up to your room to get some work done. Toge uploads his photos and puts them in your project folder on Drive. And you spend the night doing what you do best, aside from drumming—writing.

Youth for the young: JU alumni run safest live music bar in city limits

You don’t even notice the time until it’s past one in the morning, and you’re nearly asleep at your desk. The dark has crept across your room, the only source of light the desk lamp and your laptop screen. Finally, you push the computer shut and flick off the light, flopping into your bed. A few missed messages pop up when you hold your phone up, wincing at the bright screen.

takuma: just letting you know i made the treacherous journey home safely takuma: many miles of hardship takuma: thought i was gonna die halfway there

You smirk and type out a reply.

you: did kirara have to save you takuma: i resent that takuma: (yes) takuma: wait why are you up it’s so late you: journalisming you: why are YOU up takuma: travel adrenaline takuma: (coding project due monday that i just started) you: TAKUMA

The next text to come through is a voice note, and you can’t help smiling as you hit play and his voice fills the open air of your bedroom.

“Okay, in my defense, I thought it was due next Monday. Which maybe isn’t my defense because it means I just can’t read due dates, or maybe I just can’t read, but I thought I had a lot more time and then one of my classmates texted me asking for help on this block of code and I told him I hadn’t started and he was like oh my god, Ino, it’s due in three days, and I was like no it’s not, we have so much time—turns out we don’t have so much time, so I’m over here staring at my screen until the vessels in my eyes pop—”

He yawns, and it makes you yawn too, despite the screen separating you. “Sorry, agh. Anyway, I have to write this program that uses some kind of randomized generator…”

You find your eyelids fighting gravity, exhaustion washing over you as he explains the project and all the reasons he’s not that worried about getting it done by Monday because actually he’s on a roll and it turns out the code isn’t that different from a similar project he did last year so he can just lift the main blocks over and wow, he’s tired, and you stifle a laugh as the voice memo comes to an end and he says, “Okay, gosh, I should go to bed. You should go to bed. Stop journalisming, Skip, get some sleep. G’night.”

You grin, plugging your phone in and sending him a voice memo of your own.

“I’m done journalisming. Still haven’t written that story on you, though. Night, Takuma.”

The last thing you see before you fall asleep is his reaction to your text. It’s a thumbs up, but after a few seconds, it disappears, replaced with a heart.

—

“I’m gonna die,” Nobara groans.

You’ve been checking Instagram every hour on the hour for the bracket results, but to no avail. The five of you are sprawled out in the living room, a Fleetwood Mac record spinning in the corner, cups of coffee and tea and scattered remnants of breakfast dotting the table and the floor and the windowsill.

You have post notifications on for the Battle of the Bands Instagram page, but you check anyway, as if you somehow missed it.

“Okay,” Maki says. “Cut it out. No phones.”

“Maki,” Toge groans. “How do we live with the suspense?”

“Go around and give a rundown of your week?” Yuta suggests.

“Aw, highs and lows, it’s like elementary school,” Nobara says happily. “I’ll go first! High: annoying slacker guy in my marketing class got a shit grade on the group project and the rest of us got As. Low: Skipper won’t give me Ino lore.”

“Lore,” you mimic. “I don’t have any lore. We’ve known each other for like, two weeks.”

“That’s enough time for lore,” she insists. “What’s your high? Ino?”

“Okay, jeez,” you say. “Maybe it’s that Toge and I had a really good first interview for our project story.”

Toge blinks at you.

“Fine, maybe it’s Takuma.”

Nobara grins in a way you can only describe as malicious. “Okay,” you say, pointing at her. “Low: whatever that is.” She sticks her tongue out at you.

“My low is Skipper bullying me in class,” Toge says. “And my high is she said she’d be my partner, so I’m not gonna fail.”

Yuta nods sagely. “Maki?”

“Uhh,” she says eloquently. “My parents won’t stop pestering me about fall break. But I aced a test on Thursday in anthro, so there’s that.”

“You’re not going home, right?” you ask. She shakes her head resolutely. Maki doesn’t go home unless she absolutely has to—one thing she and Mai actually have in common.

All of your phones go off at once, a mix of buzzes and beeps and Apple watchfaces lighting up, and Nobara screams. “I can’t look!” she cries. “Someone tell me!”

You click on the notification and pull up the post, heart racing.

The first slide is a generic Battle of the Bands announcement with the cool ass graphics you’ve been seeing on the posters. Whoever designs those needs a raise. The second image is the bracket for next Friday, with the first knockout round of three—only one group will move on to the finals. “Who is it?” Nobara asks anxiously, pacing the room. “Oh god, I’m gonna die.”

“Shibuya Incident,” you read off, unable to keep the smile from your face. “Angel.” Nobara groans overdramatically. “And the Kamos.”

You swipe to the next screen, heart in your throat. OCTOBER 18, it reads. THE CULL. CURSED TECHNIQUE. BLACK FLASH.

“Oh my god!” you scream. “Oh my god, we made it!”

Toge yanks you to your feet and starts hopping around the living room, and Nobara shrieks with joy as you pull her into the celebration. Even Maki and Yuta are sporting wide smiles as they watch the three of you bounce around like kids on a sugar rush.

“What, no Sukuna?” Maki teases when you’ve calmed down. Toge clears his throat and does his best impression, going as far as to make his pants sag a little around his waist.

“Frosted flexin’, I’m the cereal king, pourin’… uh, duh nuh nuh, something doin’ my thing,” he says in a deep voice. “Uh… squirrel? Somethin’ fuego, that’s Spanish, uhhh…”

“Oh my god, let me look it up,” Nobara cackles, pulling up SoundCloud. “It’s I’m the king of bad decisions, got a throne made of Legos, took a bite of my mic and said these bars are fuego.”

Yuta physically winces. “Does he really sag his pants like that?”

Toge shrugs. “It felt right in the moment.”

“Wait, who’s the other one eliminated, then?” you ask, running through the bands in your head. Yours, Takuma’s, Black Flash, the Kamos…

“Motion Capture,” Maki says.

“No, it’s all caps. You have to shout it. MOTION CAPTURE!” Toge hollers. Nobara snorts.

You aren’t entirely surprised, but you have a feeling the girls aren’t too put out about it. They’re young, too—they’ll have their time to shine eventually.

You grin, flopping back onto the couch. “Okay, rehearsal when? Tonight?”

“Yeah, I have to go to a friend’s to figure some stuff out for a project, but I’ll be back at like… five?” Yuta says.

“Oh, fuck, I gotta go too!” Nobara says, darting toward the stairs.

“Group project?” Maki asks.

“Shopping! I gotta pick Miwa up in like, ten minutes!”

Maki rolls her eyes fondly. Yuta stands up and grabs his bag, heading toward the entryway, and the rest of you gravitate instinctually to the kitchen. Nobara is out the door moments later with a wave and a shout, and Toge grins.

“What,” Maki deadpans, not a question.

“I printed memes to hide on her Polaroid wall. Be right back.”

You snort, turning your attention to the window to watch Nobara cruise down the block. The view of her sleek, small car is interrupted by Yuta’s jungle of plants.

“I hope they’re not too cold,” he says, frowning as he tugs a jacket on over his white hoodie. “Do they look okay to you?”

“Yeah,” you say, pointing to the one in the white, ovular pot. “Especially this one, it’s getting so big! What’s his name, Snorlax?” Yuta had a phase where he named at least six plants in a row after Pokèmon.

“No, that one’s Rika, after that TV show,” Maki corrects, not looking up. Yuta blinks, looks between her and the plant, whose vines have started to creep up the window. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. Both of your eyes on her have her looking up from her phone, expression flat and unaffected. “What?”

“Yeah,” he says slowly. “I didn’t know… anyone paid attention.”

Maki shrugs. “You talk to them out loud.”

“Yeah, I guess I do.” Yuta laughs and waves one last time before he walks out, closing the door behind him. You count to five in your head and then whirl on Maki, entirely unable to keep the shit-eating grin off your face.

“Kowalski, status report.”

She blinks at you. “What?”

“I said—”

“No, I know, just—on what? What happened?”

You groan, dragging the heels of your hands down your face. “Maki. Please.” You gesture wildly between her and the door, wondering if she’s genuinely this oblivious or if she’s just as good a liar as Mai. “Are you—did we not just witness the same interaction? Jesus, Maki, put the boy out of his misery!”

Seeing Maki frazzled is not a common occurrence. The most agitated you ever see her is talking about her family or trading passive aggressive jabs with Mai. This is an entirely new sort of disarray—she’s flustered.

“I—what?! I can’t do that! And he’s not miserable. He’s that nice to everyone.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands with your elbows on the counter. “Maki! He likes you. And your face is telling me you like him back.”

She scoffs, turning her head down and crossing her arms defensively. “I’m not messing things up by dating my bandmate. We live together, Skip, he’s my best friend, if things got messy—”

You hold up a hand. “First of all, offensive. I’m your best friend. Second of all, I hear no denial. Also, it won’t get messy. You are the two most mature people in this house and you know how to separate personal from practical. If anything, it’s gonna kill the vibes of the band and the house if you just keep stewing in the sexual tension.”

“Oh my god,” Maki groans. “There. Is. No. Sexual. Tension.”

“There’s always sexual tension,” Toge announces, walking in and jumping up onto the countertop, legs swinging. He looks between the two of you innocently. “What are we talking about?”

“You might be of some help, actually,” you say, turning to Toge with your hands clasped.

“Uh, actually? Not oh, Toge, you’re always so helpful, thank god you live with me and keep my life interesting—”

“Nevermind.”

“No, pleeease,” Toge insists, sticking out his lower lip. “What?” His gaze shifts to Maki, who’s blushing a furious red. His mouth turns into a small O. “This is about Yuta?”

You didn’t think she could get any more scarlet, but here she is.

“Does everyone think that?” she groans, throwing her head back in exasperation.

Toge shrugs. “I thought we were all just quietly skirting around it until you both snapped.”

“Nobara doesn’t skirt around anything,” Maki says.

“Well, there’s no way she doesn’t know,” you point out. “Maybe she just respects both of you enough to leave it alone.”

“Hah!” Toge snorts, poking you in the ribs. “That means she doesn’t respect you. She wants the Ino lore.”

“I’m gonna tell Nobara about the memes.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Abruptly, you realize you never got around to Yuta for highs and lows, what with the chaos of the brackets dropping. “Ah, guys,” you say. “We missed Yuta.” You pull up the house group chat.

you: YUTA DROP YOUR HIGH AND LOW IN THE CHAT you: YOU ARE NOT FORGOTTEN freak no. 1: yes you are utah: haha aw that’s nice utah disliked a message from freak no. 1 utah: uhh low is maybe that toge keeps leaving memes all over our room. like i keep finding them tucked in my notebooks and everything freak no. 1: SLANDER freak no. 1: LIBEL you: not the same thing freak no. 1: SHUT UP utah: high is someone remembers the names of my plants!! :) nobara: Sorry, using voice text while I drive. Who knows the names of your plants? You and God? utah: maki! :)

“Okay, well, respond,” Toge says, poking Maki in the side. She glares at him and likes Yuta’s message.

“Guys,” she says exasperatedly. “What the hell am I supposed to do? Does he know?”

And you’re not sure, honestly. You don’t know that Yuta is even aware of his own feelings, let alone aware that Maki reciprocates them. You shrug helplessly. “How about… ask?”

“Jesus,” Maki says.

“Not him, Yuta.”

Maki socks Toge in the shoulder and levels him with a disdainful look. “You are the bane of my existence.”

“And the object of all your desires,” Toge proclaims in a horrendous Bridgerton accent. He made you watch all of it with him in two days. Maki refused.

Now, she just shoves him, and he squeals as he falls off the kitchen counter.

“Children,” you sigh. “Do you need to be separated?”

“Yes!”

—

“Why is this so hard?” You stand with your feet planted on Takuma’s skateboard, which is confoundingly, entirely different than balancing atop your longboard. “Oh my god.” You lurch forward as the board rolls a bit to the left, unable to stifle the squeal that comes out of your mouth.

Takuma stops it with one foot.

“Your center of balance is lower on a longboard,” he laughs. “Like, here.” His hands wrap around your waist and you tense under his grip, and he immediately freezes, jerking his arms back. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

“No! No, it’s okay,” you blurt, sheepish. “I just wasn’t expecting it, I—here.” You try to fight the blush furiously rising in your cheeks as you take his wrists in both hands, putting them back where they were. You clear your throat, suddenly too warm. “Um. Okay, so—do you turn the same way?”

“Pretty much. You just lean,” Takuma says, and you shift your weight to your heels, letting him steady you. “It’s a bit harsher than you would on a longboard, though. Unless you want me to send you right into kickturns?” His tone is teasing and you pretend to consider, tapping a finger against your chin.

“Mm. Maybe later.”

You’ve been at the skate park for a while now, and you’ve only recently ditched your longboard for the skateboard. Takuma brought the extra board you saw hanging on his wall the other day, and he uses it to demonstrate while you practice riding back and forth, getting a hold on your balance. After you feel like you can make it a good distance without pinwheeling your arms, you come to a staggered stop beside him.

A flash of blue-green hair grabs your attention, and you watch a kid in a lightning bolt hoodie slip under the ramps. The park has been pretty deserted today aside from a few guys doing tricks in the pit, a chilly Sunday with the sunlight muted by the clouds.

“Ooh, drug deal in action.” You poke Takuma in the side.

“Ah, probably Sukuna. He deals here all the time.” Sukuna’s business is one of those things everyone’s aware of but nobody talks about. He’s consistent and pretty safe, as far as drug dealers go, but he’ll deny any involvement while smoking a joint if he has to.

“Who’s space buns?”

“Uhh…” Takuma narrows his eyes, and the guy slips out again. “Damn, that was fast. Oh, that’s Hajime. Another senior, I think. They hate each other. Fastest deals I’ve ever seen.”

“I wonder how much of his songwriting is just… while he’s really, really high,” you muse. Swag of a squirrel doesn’t strike you as a particularly levelheaded thought, but hey, it’s certainly memorable.

Takuma leans in and says conspiratorially, “I’m pretty sure I heard him dropping bars here the other day when I was with Yuji.”

You snort and look up at one of the smallest ramps, one you think you could handle without falling on your face, and point to it with a raised brow.

“Oh, moving up in the world?” Takuma kicks his board up and starts walking over, and you do the same. Before you put the board down at the top of the ramp, though, you hold it up to the light, noticing a few short, white hairs caught on the surface.

“Is this… fur?” Maybe there was a cat hiding out somewhere when you were over. Kirara seems like she’d have a cat.

Takuma sighs. “Yeah, the dogs shed like crazy. It gets everywhere. I don’t think I even left that on the ground.”

Your jaw drops, and you stare at him until he looks back at you. “Dogs?”

“What? Yeah, Fushiguro’s—”

“Fushiguro has dogs? Dogs plural? In the house?”

“You didn’t know?”

“No!” you cry. “What? Oh my god! Where were they on Wednesday? How many? What are their names?”

Takuma leans back on the rail next to the ramp, grinning. “I can’t believe you didn’t know. Oh my god. They’re so cute. Tsumiki had them Wednesday, I think. Mandated auntie time. Do you wanna meet ‘em?”

“Do I want to meet them?” you repeat, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet. “Uh, yeah. Are they home? Oh my god. I love dogs.”

“I couldn’t tell,” he deadpans, but he’s smiling still. “Yeah, they’re home. And you can meet them if you go down this ramp without dying.”

“You’re cruel,” you say, situating yourself on the board. “But I will. And then I’ll meet the dogs and become their best friend and they’ll love me more than you and Megumi combined.”

“Confident.” He comes up beside you, checking your stance. The ramp didn’t look steep or long at all from your vantage point across the park, but now that you’re atop the board, it feels suddenly very steep and very long. “You got it. Just don’t panic, keep your stance.” He drops his own board and cruises down the ramp, hardly even trying.

“Okay, go!” he calls from the bottom. “C’mon, Skip, the dogs are waiting.”

“Oh, god,” you murmur, the wind catching your words and whisking them away. You ball your hands into fists and push off, planting your foot back on the board and trying to keep your knees bent, but not too stiff, as you careen down the ramp. Don’t panic, keep your stance. You’re at the bottom in what feels like nanoseconds, and the sudden shift from ramp to flat ground has you stumbling off the board with an embarrassingly high-pitched squeak of alarm.

“Nice!” Takuma laughs as he catches you, the board rolling a few more feet ahead. His arm is wrapped around your front, the other holding you up by the shoulder, and this time you don’t tense under his hands.

“Thanks,” you say a little breathlessly, grinning, the tiny spike of adrenaline making you almost lightheaded. He lets his hands drop when you’re steady on your feet, and part of you mourns the warmth a little. But there are more pressing matters at hand. “So, about those dogs?”

You opt for your longboard on the way back down your street, cruising along beside Takuma, who has his extra board tucked under his arm. You’ve got a lot to do tonight, all the last-minute preparation for another crazy week, but you can and will drop everything to pet a puppy. Or two. Always.

And they’re actual angels. Big, fluffy angels on earth, one white and one black, and they’re all over you the second you open the door.

“Hi!” you say happily, sinking down to their level. The white one immediately tries to burrow into your lap. “Oh, hello! You’re so nice, aren’t you?” You glance up at Takuma. “Where’s Megumi?” You grab the white one’s collar and check the tag—Shiro.

“Shiro thinks she’s a tiny dog,” he says, bending down to ruffle the fur behind her ears. “Uh, Fushiguro’s at the animal clinic. He works there Sundays. And Tuesdays, I think.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah, he’s a vet student. You didn’t know?”

“I did not.” The black one is licking your face, and you giggle and check his tag, too. Kuro. “Hi, Kuro. You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

“He’s got such a soft spot for animals,” Takuma says as he kicks off his shoes. “You should see when they both try to sleep in his little twin bed. It’s ridiculous.”

“I love them,” you say, burying your face in Kuro’s scruff. “Hi, doggies. You’re awful cute, you know that? Mhm. Yes you are.”

When you finally look up again, Kuro’s cold nose nudging insistently at your palm, Takuma is leaning against the wall, looking down at you with his phone discreetly angled your way. “Takuma!”

He laughs, not bothering to hide it anymore, very clearly taking photos of you with the dogs. “It’s cute!” he insists. “I’ll send them to you. Proof for Fushiguro of your master plan to make them like you more than him.”

“And you,” you remind him.

“Well, I don’t know about that.”

You gesture pointedly to the two dogs, who are all over you and not him. It’ll be a nightmare trying to get all of Shiro’s white fur off your black jacket later, but it’s worth it.

“You’re new,” he says. “New scent. It’s the novelty factor. I am their favorite.”

“You sure? I’m pretty hard to compete with.”

He smiles, looking from you to the photos he took of you and the dogs. “Yeah,” he says. “You are.”

—

The first half of the new week goes by in a rushed routine of classes, homework, and rehearsals, each night ending with you collapsing into bed, new and old lyrics fighting for dominance in the back of your mind. Sticks re-taped and drum heads re-tuned, assignments turned in and drafts edited. Your classes are ramping up as midterms approach, and Yuta bounces between his own work and poking his head into everyone’s rooms, making sure they don’t forget about dinner.

Toge follows through on his snack run promise, and the two of you spend hours on Tuesday afternoon trading two different flavored bags of Doritos back and forth, Toge writing photo captions while you edit your story lede.

Takuma, Hakari, and Kirara have offered to help Cursed Technique record a single on Wednesday night, and the five of you have been drilling the new song you wrote up, down, and sideways.

Finally, Wednesday arrives, and you’re all crammed into the recording studio space, instruments set up and headsets tuned in.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Nobara says to Hakari on the other side of the glass. She taps a finger on the mic in demonstration, and you hear it in your own headphones.

“Great,” he says. “Skipper?”

“Skipper? I hardly know her,” Toge says, earning a harmless smack upside the head from Yuta and a not harmless smack upside the head from Maki.

“I will throw these at you,” you tell him, holding up your sticks. Toge sticks his bottom lip out, pouting.

A snicker from beside you draws your attention back to Takuma, kneeling just beside the throne as he adjusts the kick mic. He has you hit it a few times while Hakari monitors the levels. You feel oddly self-conscious like this, him looking up at you, but then he smiles and it’s not strange at all. It’s stupid how fast he can put you at ease with a look.

“Nice,” he says. “Okay, that should work, yeah, Hakari?”

It’s Kirara who answers, “Yeah, you’re good.”

Takuma stands up, claps his hands together once, and looks at you. “Okay. Kill it, Skip.”

“Yessir.” You salute him with a stick and he makes his way to the other room, closing the door behind him.

“All good?” Yuta asks, glancing at each of you in turn before giving Hakari a thumbs up. It’s strange to be on this side of the glass, to think about your music being played back, to think about it on Spotify, out in the world.

“Next Fix,” Takuma says into the mic, locking eyes with you through the window. “Take one in three, two…”

The song starts out simple. You click your sticks together near the mic, on two and four, while Maki lays down a four-bar loop.

Yuta keeps glancing at Maki while she plays, utterly unaware, and the look on his face is so soft you want to shake Maki by the shoulders until she does something about it.

Nobara’s got her eyes closed with the headset over her ears and her hands around the mic, entirely engrossed in the song.

“It’s comin’ on, comin’ strong, spinnin’ up out of the blue, mmm,” she sings, stretching out the vowels. “And I’m on the ground, bleedin’ out, until my next fix of you, ooh.”

Now you start up with a light rock beat, closed hat and a bit of a dragging buzz on the snare hits. Just as you transition into the beat, Toge comes in with some low chords and Yuta moves down the line in syncopated sixteenths.

Hakari is nodding approvingly and Takuma has a wide grin on his face, and you can’t help smiling back.

“I need it like a lung,” Nobara sings, swaying a bit. “I need it like a light. It’s got me twisted up. I need you here tonight, tonight, tonight, oh, oh, I wanna—”

And this part is your favorite—Nobara sings each two-syllable phrase while you pound on the toms twice, emphasizing it with the kick, and then the backup vocals echo her. Get my (get my) next fix (next fix) of you (of you, of you, of you.)

Kirara pumps her fist in the air twice, in time with the beat, and your bandmates can’t keep the smiles off their faces. You’ve got something here, you really do. This might be your best one yet.

When the song’s over, Nobara whoops and tugs off the headphones, jumping around the cramped studio space with a grin on her face. “That was so cool! Oh my god. Guys, we sound good. We actually sound good.”

“Damn,” Kirara calls. “Okay, girl drummer. Good shit.”

“Not bad for a first run,” Maki admits, adjusting her bass strap over her shoulder. “Do we wanna try recording backups separately at all?”

“Good call.” Takuma nods. “Let’s run that again without the backups and record them over, see what happens.” He’s in full producer mode, flipping switches, colored lights reflecting in his eyes as he and Hakari talk shop away from the mic. He’s good at this, you realize, running sessions like this, making sure things go where they need to go, that everyone’s heard, that things get done. It’s a little bit like watching him skateboard, or seeing him on stage. There’s a confidence to him here, a smooth, easy energy. He’s in his element.

“Alright,” he says after a minute. “Let’s hear that again.”

And you play it again. And again. And again. And you are so in love with this moment, with your band, with a couple rowdy kids on the other side of the window, the rasp in Nobara’s voice and the expression on Yuta’s face and Maki’s obliviousness and Toge’s consistent, head-banging keys, and your drums and your words and the music, and the lyrics feel right to you.

You need this like a lung.

directory | prev. |

jjk taglist open: just send me a message!

@shutuppeter @mikikkoo @reactwithjan @theclassbookworm @lilactaro @bisforbuse @risararelywrites @idkidk32

a/n: GUYS. loml @shutuppeter is so downbad for soundcloud rapper sukuna that she's writing fanfic of my fanfic😭 credits for frosted flexin' are all hers LMFAO so go check that out (MDNI for that one though).

yutamaki nation rise. also, i kinda love this fic. there may be spinoffs for other characters in the works...

[levandright]

im a very introverted person who takes a long while to get close n comfortable with people, but when im really close i turn into the weirdest, and most spontaneous person ever. i generally have a hard time trusting others due to issues from the past, and don't easily forgive ppl if they did me wrong. i tend to not take care of myself properly, and forget to eat properly. my love languages are quality time and physical touch.

‎im an aries, my ideal type is someone who can match my energy and shares the same interest, opinions and values on important things. someone who's kind and respectful to everyone but not touchy with people except close friends.

‎i love love childhood friends to lovers and trouples similar to that! im on the aromantic spectrum (demiromantic) so i need to know/been friends with the person before feelings develop. i love winter, and my fav hobbies are: reading, playing games, painting and dancing!

‎enha or dream <3 and a playlist for me! (thank you in advance pooks, hope your day is well 💜)

FINDING YOUR MATCH...

MATCH FOUND! your first match is... MARK LEE

MARK'S first impression of you was that you were the shy and quiet type, but that quickly changed after knowing you for a few months. your slow transition of shy, and introverted to loud, and spontaneous was quite the surprise if you asked him. he found it quite cute how you showed your true personality as you got to know each other more though!

MARK noticed that you seemed to hide things when you first met, but when you guys finally got together and told him how you had a hard time trusting people because of your past he's understanding about it! he makes it known that whatever you tell him will be kept between you two only.

MARK worries how you don't take yourself well, he will make you promise to him that you'll start eating better, and start treating yourself better in general. makes sure he takes the time to message you on his free time, and breaks to check up on you even in his hectic schedules!

MARK will always make sure he has time for you even with all the comebacks, and promotions on his way. when you guys are out on dates, he always has his hands holding your hands. but oftentimes, you guys will be just at home laying in bed cuddling, and basking in each other's presence while watching a show or movie.

MARK loves to go out on walks with you during winter, and drink hot chocolate together <3 cuddling in your bedroom while you rewatch classic christmas movies.

MARK loves watching you when you're painting, your focused expression being so cute to his eyes. he would love to hear you talk about your favorite books, and maybe he'll give it a read too when he's interested in the story(totally not to talk about it with you) will teach you the steps of some of their songs when you ask him too. will be so so patient when you struggle with a certain step, and would break the steps down in an easier way for you to get it <3

MATCH FOUND! your second match is... PARK JONGSEONG

JAY is such a gentleman, always always has you as one of his top priorities. when he's back home, not busy with tours, promotions, and back to back comebacks he's at your apartment cooking for the both of you. SPOILS you to heaven and back (get it? chase atlantic heaven and back? sorry i'll stop-), sometimes you worry how much money he spends on you... books you've been wanting to read, painting materials you ran out of and the list goes onnnnn.

JAY asks you to teach him how to paint! he loves watching you paint, but he loves it even more if he can join you <3 he wouldn't be as good as you, but he'd do his best to try and paint you! you always praise him for trying his best, and he LOVES it. enjoys going out on picnic dates where you can both paint!

JAY would teach you how to play the guitar if you showed interest in learning it! is a good teacher. probably gets distracted when you're focused on playing the guitar with your eyebrows furrowing, and your adorable focused look. he'll randomly kiss your cheek sometimes which breaks your focus, and turn you into a huge blushing mess once you realize what he did.

your custom playlist made by yours truly <3

✮ lev notes : first matchup for my moot honeychocos <3 hope you love this oomf, had a fun time thinking of your match hehe. i will note that i will write at least 2 matches in reqs with two or more groups but the 2nd matchup will have less content than the first one. ✮ want to find your own match? apply here! curious about other matches?