#YOU ALL ARE TOO PERFECT TOGETHER TO NOT MAKE THIS HAPPEN!!

[claypgeon]

broken up? no, engagement! | max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x actress!reader

summary: y/n l/n has a weird way of announcing hers and max’s engagement.

notes: pls pls pls send in request!! i finally have free time but no inspiration:(

liked by, danielricciardo, charles_leclerc, and 602,927 others!

yourusername: i no longer have a boyfriend.

view comments below!

user1: wait what

user2: i’m sorry ???

user3: DID YOU AND MAX BREAK UP???

user4: no no no

user5: this CANNOT mean what i think it does

user6: you’re kidding me right

charles_leclerc: please answer my messages!

user8: no way

user9: THE CAPTION???

danielricciardo: ?

danielricciardo: answer my messages please

landonorris: mine too?

user10: does anyone know what is going on?

user11: so you’re available now 😏

user12: you were too pretty for max anyways 🙄

landonorris: um what’s going on?

user13: lando just being as lost is so ??

user14: wait but why would she and max break up

user15: i’m so…confused?

user16: MAX ISNT IN THE LIKES ??? OMG NOOO

— f1gossip has posted new pictures!

f1gossip: y/n l/n was seen cozying up with cast mate, Luke Newton amidst breakup rumors between her and max verstappen. thoughts?

view comments below!

user17: “cozying up” and it’s her taking a picture of him ??? 🙄

user18: admin is acting like they were making out in front of everyone…

user19: oh!

user20: users on twitter were saying max was THERE with them so ??

user21: she moves on fast!

user22: this sounds wrong…

user23: we literally know NOTHING about hers and max’s relationship or WHY they broke up. let’s not assume.

user24: my heart just broke

user25: okay but her and luke are kinda cute together? no? just me?

user26: HER AND MAX WERE CUTERRR

user27: i’ll start foaming at the mouth if y/n l/n doesn’t come out and say her caption was just a joke.

user28: HER AND MAX WERE SUPPOSED TO GET MARRIEDDDD!!!!!😓😓😓

user29: i can’t do this rn. i just can’t.

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo, landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 962,028 others!

maxverstappen1: I understand that, without my agreement, my lovely finance has put out a instagram post this morning indicating that we have broken up. This is wrong, we have not broken up. We got engaged. We are to be wed.

view comments below!

yourusername: i thought they would understand what i meant 😞

user30: GIRL ALL YOU SAID WAS YOU NO LONGER HAD A BF ???

user31: you did NOT phrase your words correctly

user32: gave me heart attack and for what 😐

user33: don’t play with me like that ever again.

danielricciardo: i love you @/yourusername, but please do not play with my heart like that again.

danielricciardo: BUT YAY!!!! WEDDING OF THE CENTURY!!

user34: OMG ???

user35: I KNEW IT !!! I FUCKING KNEW IT!!!

user36: AHHHHH AHHHHH AHHHHH AHHHH

user37: oh thank GOD

user38: pls don’t ever scare me like that again 💗

landonorris: OMG OMG OMG OMG ???!??!??

landonorris: AND YOU LOT DIDNT TELL ME ?!?!?

landonorris: YNSTAPPEN WEDDING!! AHHHH

user39: congratulations!!!

f1: about time you proposed 😒

maxverstappen1: ?

redbullracing: so excited for the red bull themed wedding!! ☺️

yourusername: yeah that won’t be happening

redbullracing: i understand.

user40: i’m crying ??

user41: does this mean i don’t have a chance with y/n anymore ?? ☹️

user42: THAT SHOULDVE BEEN MEE

charles_leclerc: congratulations too you both 💗

maxverstappen1: thank you charles 💙💙

user43: omg just ask him to be your best man already 🙄🙄

oscarpiastri: it is an honor to have my tweet used as your engagement announcement 🧡🧡

yourusername: max couldn’t resist 😒

user44: i just know this wedding is going to be GORGEOUS

georgerussell63: congrats too you both! ❤️

yourusername: you’ll sing at the wedding right?

georgerussell63: duh 🙄

yourusername: perfect!

lewishamilton: so excited 💗💗

yukitsunoda0511: can i cook?

yourusername; of course you can yuki!!

user45: i’m so excited and it’s NOT EVEN MY WEDDING ??

schecoperez: did you tell her how you were shitting yourself with nerves this entire week?

maxverstappen1: no 😒

yourusername: aw max 🥹🥹

liked by, maxverstappen1, georgerussell63, oscarpiastri, and 1,238,028 others!

yourusername; i got married today. it was cool. 10/10 would do again!

view comments below!

user46: was the wedding 10/10 or was the groom 10/10??

yourusername: both!

user45: OMG ITS HAPPENED ???

user46: so happy for you both 🥹

maxverstappen1: 💙💙

georgerussell63: i personally think my singing brought everything together…

yourusername: it really did george, it really did

charles_leclerc: so incredibly happy for you both ❤️

user47: we all saw the video of you sobbing during the ceremony charles…

user48: to be fair, EVERYONE was sobbing

user49; their vows even made ME cry

landonorris: amazing wedding, 10/10 would attend again!

yourusername: thank you little lando 🧡🧡

oscarpiastri: i would like to request the video of my dancing to be scrubbed off of the internet.

maxverstappen1: no chance mate 😂

yourusername: it’s okay oscar, i thought your dancing was adorable!!

lewishamilton: me and roscoe had the times of our lives ❤️❤️

user50: ROSCOE WENT TO THE WEDDING ?? 😭

user51: not only roscoe, but alex and TWO of his cats 😭😭

liked by, yourusername, danielricciardo, yukitsunoda0511, shecoperez, and 1,629,028 others!

maxverstappen1: i married my bestfriend today. it was amazing. 10/10 would do again!

view comments again!

user52: he’s officially off the market ladies 😒

user53: he’s been off the market for 4 years ???

user54: if my man doesn’t love me as much as max loves y/n i don’t WANT HIM

user55: ever since y/ns “i no longer have a bf” post i’ve been thanking the gods that this is how it turned out

danielricciardo: bestfriend? wow, you get married and suddenly you forget who raised you.

maxverstappen1: y/n is my bestfriend. she always will be.

danielricciardo: JUST RUB IT IN THEN.

user56: omg her dress 😍😍

user57; them >>

user58: did you guys see that they BOTH took each others last name ??

user59: wait really ?

user58: yeah 🥹 it’s y/n l/n-verstappen and max verstappen-l/n

user60: that is the cutest thing ever

user61: the matching captions 😞😞

user62: remember last year when y/n made everyone believe they broke up ??

user63: thank GOD that wasn’t true

yourusername: i love you mr l/n

maxverstappen1: i love you more mrs verstappen

user64: WHEN IS IT MY FUCKING TURN

[rafecameroninterlude]

rafe + mean!reader orgasm control

warnings: friends with benefits, mean!reader, dark!reader, orgasm control, degradation (i promise rafe loves it <3), orgasm denial, fluff (just a lil)

a/n: this is so evil your req is perfect bb!!

“please, just let me touch you.” you smiled wickedly, shaking your head as rafe shuddered underneath your gaze. “let you touch me? no fucking way.” he swallowed thickly, your laugh echoing in his ears. “look at yourself.” you tugged on the roots of rafe’s hair, making him examine himself in the mirror. “this is the big bad rafe cameron that everyone is so scared of? how pathetic.” you whispered the last part in his ear.

your eyes traveled down his reflection, his cock rock hard. “what do you think people would say if they saw you like this? so needy and desperate while i still have all my clothes on?” he looked up at you as you stood between his thighs. “beg for it.” you giggled at the way his jaw clenched, running a nail underneath his chin. “please, ‘wanna make you feel good.” his hands rested on the back of your thighs, kneading the flesh there.

“yeah? it looked like you wanted to make that touron feel good, too.” at the mention of the girl he had on his lap all night long, rafe groaned, meeting your stare. “that was stupid of me, i-” you shushed him, rolling your eyes. “i don’t care who you do, ‘cameron, we have a ‘no strings attached’ arrangement, remember?” rafe blinked, watching as you slowly pushed him down on your bed. you were by far his favorite view, his heart skipping a beat when you started pulling down the straps of your dress.

“you look so good like this.” his chest rose and fell as you traced the ridges of his muscles. rafe thought he’d die if he couldn’t cup you through your bra, the swells of your breasts making him run his tongue across his bottom lip. without warning, you wrapped a hand around his length, a groan tumbling from his throat. “oh, fuck,” you gripped him at the base, leaning down to take his lips in your own. rafe kissed you like a man starved, physically restraining himself from flipping both of you over so he could have his way with you.

“you’re killing me, y/n.” his eyebrows knitted together, mouth falling open in a silent moan. you picked up your speed, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. “good.” he half laughed, the smile dropping from his face when you ran your thumb over the head of his cock. “i’m not going to last long.” rafe shook his head, groaning to himself. “already?” you teased, the man in front of you shooting daggers in your direction.

you felt his hips stutter, his jaw going slack as his head rolled to the side. knowing rafe was on the edge of finishing, you pulled away, his body writhing with need. “no, no, no, why did you stop?” he sat up, panting for air. the look on his face was priceless. dark eyes, swollen lips, you couldn’t deny the way he made butterflies flutter in your tummy. letting your dress fall to the ground, rafe didn’t care anymore, too sexually frustrated to allow you to keep up your cruel ministrations.

a yelp left your lips when he pulled you on top of him only to roll you over and pin you beneath him. “you’re cute just as you are stupid.” you cooed, hand finding his length once again. “you know what’s going to happen?” rafe hummed, his head falling on your shoulder. “i’m gonna get you right on the edge again, ‘wait until you’re about to blow your load before i kick you out.” he knew you meant every word, having not been the first time you do this.

“you’re cruel, you know that?” he huffed out, pecking your temple. you tried to keep the flutter of your heart at bay, ultimately betraying yourself when you met his gaze. “maybe. but that’s why you keep crawling back for more.. literally.” rafe shut his eyes momentarily, the strokes of your hand sending a shiver down his spine. “please, please, please.” you kept a steady pace, making him look you in the eyes as he neared pure euphoria.

“your pretty face isn’t making this any easier for me.” rafe said through gritted teeth, welcoming the kisses you trailed across his chest. he knew when he felt you smile against his skin, you were going to kill him with your next words. “go home, rafe.” you pushed him softly, moving out from underneath him and settling in the comfort of your sheets. he blinked, the tension in his abdomen melting away into nothing.

even though this was torture for him, he loved every second of it. you were the only girl that didn’t give him what he wanted, and for that reason he found himself absolutely hooked. rafe kept his eyes trained on you as he got dressed, admiring your features before he opened your bedroom door. “i’ll be by tomorrow..” you hummed, turning away from him. “of course you are.”

[adrienneleclerc]

Ex-Girlfriend

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Charles’s ex girlfriend is somehow ALWAYS there

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: inspired by Ex-Girlfriend by Melissa KB. I believe since Charles Leclerc and Charlotte Sine still follow each other on Instagram, it’s perfect.

Y/N doesn’t consider herself to be the jealous type but there is just one little thing that Charles does that make her a little wary, and that’s being in contact with his ex. Now at first, she didn’t mind that Charles followed his ex on social media, he isn’t in her likes and viceversa, but it wasn’t until his ex started showing up everywhere they went.

It happened when Charles invited Y/N over to his mom’s house because she was hosting her birthday party. It was the first time she was going to meet Pascale so Y/N wore her best outfit that was appropriate for the occasion.

“Muñeco, i’m nervous, this is my first time meeting someone’s mom.” Y/N said, Charles turned her around so she could face him.

“My mom will love you, and she will love the dessert you brought.” Charles said.

“Yeah, I figured alfajores would be good, who doesn’t like caramel?” Y/N said, Charles giggled before knocking on the door. The door opened to reveal his mother.

“Oh Charles, you made it!” Pascale said, hugging Charles and kissing him on the cheek,

“Hi maman, this is Y/N.” Charles said.

“Oh Y/N, I have heard so much about you, let’s bring this to the kitchen.” Pascale said, holding Y/N’s hand to bring her inside and Y/N followed her into the kitchen. “So there is plenty of food but we won’t eat until later.”

“My family does the same thing.” Y/N commented.

“Charles, dear, introduce Y/N to the guests, get her comfortable.” Pascale said,

“Yes maman, lets go, Mon coeur.” Charles said, guiding Y/N with his hand on her back. Y/N was meeting everyone, and it was all going great until..

“Charles! It’s so good to see you.” A pretty, thin, brunette said, hugging Charles. “Who’s this?”

“It’s good to see you too, Charlotte. This is Y/N, my girlfriend.” Charles said, moving his hand so now his arm was around Y/N

“It’s nice to meet you.” Y/N said, shaking Charlotte’s hand.

“You too, you’re so pretty.” Charlotte said.

“Thank you…so how do you and Charles know each other?” Y/N asked and Charles scratched the back of his head.

“Oh we dated for 3 years.” Charlotte said and Y/N’s eyes widened in shock and she turned to Charles and then back at Charlotte. “Well, have fun, you two look adorable together, it was nice meeting you.” Charlotte said before kissing Y/N on the cheek and she went off to mingle. Y/N turned to Charles, with her arms crossed in front of her.

“Your ex was invited to your mom’s birthday party? You still talk to your ex?” Y/N asked.

“No, I don’t talk to her, her parents were friends with mine, and it looks like our mom’s still keep in touch.” Charles said,

“But did you hear her? ‘You two look adorable together’, like how condescending could a girl be?” Y/N said. Charles laughed a little.

“But mon ange, you are adorable, that nose scrunch you do is adorable.” Charles said, cupping Y/N’s face to kiss her nose and Y/N did the nose scrunch. “You see? Adorable! Now come on, I think you deserve some food after seeing Cha.” Charles said, Y/N stared at him with an eyebrow raised. “Charlotte, I mean Charlotte.”

“Okay let’s go, I want alfajores.” Y/N said and Charles lead her into the kitchen for food.

The couple saw Charlotte other times at the mall, the grocery store, movie theater, ice cream shop, basically everywhere they went. However the last straw when Charles and Y/N were out for lunch.

“We should get dessert before we leave.” Charles said

“Well if you’re offering, I kinda want the chocolate cheesecake.” Y/N said.

“I want the tiramisu.” Charles said.

“We always got tiramisu after lunch, glad to see that didn’t change.” Charlotte said, appearing behind Y/N, she turned to face Charlotte.

“Charlotte, so great to see you.” Y/N faces Charles mouthing the words “Why is she here?” Charles shrugged. “What are you doing here, Charlotte?”

“Oh I just wanted to get a quick lunch, I’ll leave you two to it.” Charlotte said.

“Why don’t you join us?” Charles asked and Y/N kicked his shin under the table. “Merde, Y/N.” Charles said, soothing his shin.

“Are you sure you don’t mind? I could get another table.” Charlotte said.

“You’re not sitting by yourself, pull up a chair,” Charles insisted, Charlotte pulled up a chair and sat in between Charles and Y/N, leaning closer to Charles, what a surprise.

“So, dessert?” Y/N asked.

“Yeah, I’ll order for us.” Charles said, as he got the waiter’s attention and ordered dessert, letting Charlotte order her food. When Charles’s and Y/N’s dessert came, Charlotte was talking about her relationship with Charles.

“Charles actually let me drive his race car one time, it was so exciting.” Charlotte reminisces. “Has he taken You out in his F1 car yet?”

“I haven’t.” Y/N responded curtly, taking another forkful of chocolate cheesecake, finishing her dessert, and stared at Charles.

“Well I’m sure he’ll take you out someday, he would take me out on his yacht, we’d go scuba diving, hiking, shopping, we had some fun times.” Charlotte said, trying to hold Charles’s hand but he moved his hand away.

“Charlotte, it was so good seeing you, I’ll ask for the check, and pay for your lunch, but Y/N and I have to head out.” Charles said, getting up from the table, pulling Y/N’s chair out so she could get up as well.

“Oh okay, I’ll see you later then.” Charlotte said. Y/N waited for Charles to pay before they left the restaurant. Once they were in the car, charles turned on the radio.

“Okay, let it out.” Charles said and Y/N screamed.

“Like why was she here? I get that Monaco is small but COME ON! It’s not natural to bump into your exes this much. Also the whole ‘i drove his race car, did you drive his race car?’ Like she was fucking comparing relationships, what the hell was that about?” Y/N ranted.

“I know, Mon ange, I know.” Charles said.

“And you! You invited her to sit with us! You didn’t say anything when she talked about the past! You just sat there, eating your tiramisu without a care in the world.” Y/N said.

“I couldn’t tell her anything, Y/N, that would have been rude.” Charles said.

“There is nothing rude about setting boundaries with your ex, Charles.” Y/N said.

When they made it to Charles apartment, Y/N noticed something on the floor that she hasn’t noticed before. A gold bracelet with a ‘C’ charm, Charles only wears silver jewelry and he always has those APM Monaco bracelets so it’s not his, and it is most certainly not hers.

“Muñeco, who’s bracelet is this?” Y/N asked, holding up the bracelet she found on the floor. Charles turned around to look at it.

“Putain, it’s Charlotte’s.” Charles admitted,

“Charlotte’s? You guys broke up a year ago! How is this still here?” Y/N asked.

“I guess she forgot it here and never realized it was missing.” Charles said.

“Okay, we clearly need to have a conversation. Listen, I’m not the jealous type, I’m not too fond of the emotion, but there needs to be boundaries. You can’t just invite her to sit with us whenever she is in the same place as we are. That’s making her believe that you two might have a chance in the future, it just can’t happen again, Charles.” Y/N said,

“But you knew i had exes before we started dating, I don’t understand why you’re acting this way towards Charlotte, we ended on good terms.” Charles said.

“Well i didn’t think I would bump into her so often, I never bumped into Giada, why the hell am I bumping into Charlotte? But I’m serious, Charles, boundaries.” Y/N said.

So the next day, Charles messaged Charlotte on Instagram to return her bracelet, meeting up at the same restaurant.

“Glad you can meet me here,” Charles said, sitting at Charlotte’s table,

“I was a little surprised you DM’d me, to be honest. So what’s up?” Charlotte asked,

“Well I’m here to return your bracelet.” Charles said, showing her the gold bracelet.

“Is that all? Surely you didn’t text me just to return a bracelet a completely forgot about.” Charlotte said.

“There’s more…” Charles said.

“I knew it! You broke up with Y/N didn’t you?” Charlotte asked.

“What? No! Charlotte, there needs to be boundaries between us. You are my ex, it’s okay that we say ‘hi’ when we see each other but that’s it. Also, you can’t come to my mom’s house whenever my mom invites your mom, it’s weird. I blame myself for leading you on yesterday, I guess, and I am sorry about that, but it makes Y/N uncomfortable so if you see me with her out and about in Monaco, don’t say anything.” Charles said.

“Um yeah, yeah, that’s fine, I understand.” Charlotte said.

“Good, bye.” Charles said and he left without a second glance. Once he was in his car, he unfollowed Charlotte and removed her as a follower as well on Instagram. He made it to his apartment and found Y/N baking.

“Hey, I woke up and you were gone, where did you go?” Y/N asked, placing some dough in the oil.

“Clearing something up with an old friend. What are you making? I thought there weren’t any orders for today.” Charles said

“There isn’t, I just really wanted picarones. I would ask if you wanted one but Andrea would kill me.” Y/N said. Charles hugged her from behind and kissed her cheek.

“I love you.” Charles said,

“I love you too.” Y/N said. “Would you help me made the picarones? You can roll the dough and make the shape, I’ll just fry them.”

“I Can do that.” Charles said.

The next time Charles saw Charlotte was when him and Y/N were grocery shopping. And keeping true to her promise, Charlotte didn’t say hi to them, she knew it was for the best though.

“Hey Muñeco, think I need more flour or do we have enough?” Y/N asked. Charles looked at their cart.

“We have more than enough, Mon coeur, let’s go pay.” Charles said.

The End

Hope y’all liked it!

[teacups-and-saucers]

gotta admit i actually like the idea of if hugh AND bryan's takes on how will perceives his feelings for hannibal are BOTH true

like bryan saying will and hannibal are in love with each other PLUS hugh saying will is still coming to terms with some things within himself

put that together and you basically get will being in love with hannibal but in fierce denial of it because being in love with hannibal means being in love with and captivated by the cruel violence that hannibal stands for. being in love with hannibal means abandoning all sense of rational and human morality for a taste of sadistic religion. and definitely, coming to terms with being in love with such things says more about the self than it does about the other person. so of course will has to come to terms with that first—with what it means for him to be captivated and drawn and in love with such things.

i think post-fall is really the time when we could've seen will truly falling in love with hannibal. like, not just the subconscious type. the type where you choose to be in love, every moment, every day. will would have accepted by then the horrific truth that he has strayed too far from the light to ever come back—and that he doesn't want to come back. and that's the perfect time for him to be the courter than the courted. and i can see how a change of roles from s1 would happen in that respect.

so maybe will is in love with hannibal, but had not consciously chosen that truth. maybe it was a truth in the shadows he was still about to accept. and maybe he had never tried to make sense of his relationship with hannibal before because it was easier to bury everything beneath two fingers of whiskey and a letter burning in the fireplace. besides, it seems like will went from a life of seclusion and isolation into one where suddenly, there was a person who not only saw him and understood him, but also wanted him whole. no needing to ""fix"" himself. and that can be a lot. on top everything else he had to deal with.

[4unnyr0se]

Hi love your writing!! I havent touched HQ in 3 years but Im starting to love old characters I use to fall in love with like Asahi, Oikawa, Bokuto etc,,, so as my first req, could you pls write fem! Reader x Bokuto fluff in HS?

Like Bokuto trying to court the reader. How would that go? And how did he finally ask us out?

Feel free to ignore this if you dont like the idea! Ty for ur time 🤍❤️🤍

❥ young love at fukurodani | kotaro bokuto

warnings: none that i can think of. this is pure fluff

MDNI | No 18+ content, I just don't want minors interacting with my blog

word count -> 1.6k

okay so aaaa this didn't rlly follow the ask bc all he does is ask reader to tutor him and then cute stuff happens but i can make a hc of it probably tonight or tomorrow?? also i wrote this when i was having tummy issues so im very sorry if its horrible. i love u!

got a request? my asks are open!

Bokuto wasn’t one to get embarrassed that easily. Sure, he did embarrassing things but didn’t know they were embarrassing. They were part of his boyish charm, which people loved about him…right? Of course, they did. He was Kotaro Bokuto. He was Fukurodani’s ace, and the people loved him for it. So why, if he was so confident, did he get awkward and embarrassed around you, his pretty classmate?

Saying you were gorgeous was an understatement. He couldn’t find the right words to describe you to his friends, mainly Akaashi. “She’s just like, y’know? And I’m like, oh damn! She’s cute as fuck!” Boktuo would make various gestures with his hands as he and Akaashi sat on the steps leading to the gym, sipping cola from the vending machine. “What do I do, Akaashi? She’s so pretty, and I’m pretty too! The only problem is that everyone else in our year thinks so, too…do I even have a shot?”

Akaashi would offer him a pitiful smile, rubbing his back in assurance. “Well, isn’t she one of the smartest in our year?”

“Yeah, smart and pretty. She’s so fucking perfect, I wish you could see her.” he pouted.

“Well, the answer is simple,” Akaashi said, standing up and stretching his arms above his head. Ask her for help with homework; god knows you need it.”

“Hey! I got a 41 on my chemistry test!” Bokuto yelled at Akaashi as the setter entered the gym. But he did have a point, like always. Bokuto decided then and there that he would ask you to tutor him tomorrow, no matter how anxious he was. Anxiety was for suckers anyway.

“Hey, wait up!” Bokuto ran after you as you exited your classroom, papers flying out of his messy bookbag that was riddled with stains from only God knows what. “I gotta ask you a question!”

You stopped walking and turned your heel, raising an eyebrow as the Fukurodani captain barreled towards you. “Hey, what’s up, Bokuto? How’s volleyball going? Are we headed to nationals?” you asked, placing a hand on your hip. God, even the way you held yourself was perfect. Were you an actual goddess, or was Bokuto just lovestruck?

Bokuto finally caught up to you, leaning against the hallway walls in an attempt to appear suave and put-together. His messy uniform didn’t help his cause, but he forgot to look neat today. And every day after that. “Uh, I was wondering if you understood what we were assigned in English yesterday? I don’t understand any of it to save my skin, hah,” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at his shoes. “Did you get what our teacher was saying?”

“Yeah, it was really simple. Just basic grammar and syntax structures. Was it complicated for you?” you tilted your head to the side.

“I don’t really get it. Wanna tutor me at my house today? I can get you snacks!” he offered you a crooked smile, leaning forward so his golden eyes peered into yours. “C’mon, please? The coach will kick my ass if I don’t get my grades up, and I have a game next week! Pretty please?” he folded his hands in prayer, his bottom lip in a childish pout.

You smiled and nodded, grabbing him off the wall. Bokuto blushed at the sudden contact, noticing how neat you kept your fingernails compared to his own. Yours were neatly polished to perfection while he bit his nails almost constantly, and being a wing spiker didn’t come with having good-looking nails. 

“Where’s your house? Is it walking distance?” you let go of his hand, much to Bokuto’s dismay. 

“Yeah, it’s about five minutes from here. Wanna stop at a convenience store on the way? I’m really hungry.” he rubbed his stomach as you two walked out the nearest exit, your messenger bag dangling over your shoulder. 

“Only if you’re paying,” you joked, rubbing his shoulder. Bokuto could have sworn his heart stopped right then and there. Were you actually flirting with him, or were you just really touchy? Either way, it was a win in his book. 

“Sure, I don’t mind. Anything for a pretty girl like yo-” Bokuto stopped his sentence, smacking his hand over his mouth. “I-I mean, why wouldn’t I mind? I’m a captain, after all. It’s my job to provide for my teammates!”

“But I’m not on any sports teams. I’m not your teammate.” you deadpanned, 

“You know what I mean!” Bokuto whined, wiping his forehead of the sweat that was slowly starting to gather. “Damn, it’s a hot one today. Why won’t they let the guys wear shorts? Do they want us to die of heat stroke or something?”

“I honestly have no idea,” you sighed, walking under the shade of the convenience store roof. “Wait a minute,” you instructed, placing your messenger bag on the hot pavement. You shrugged off your school blazer and wrapped it around your waist tightly in an attempt to cool you off. You also rolled up the sleeves of your white blouse, loosening your collar. “Sorry, I’m just really warm. At least we get to wear skirts, right?” you offered him a lopsided smile.

Bokuto’s heart pounded in his chest. “Uh, yeah, you girls are so lucky. Wearing skirts must feel awesome.”

“It’s awesome until you catch someone trying to look it up,” you mumbled in annoyance, hoisting your bag over your shoulders. 

“What the actual fuck? Who was it? I’ll murder them! I'll text Konoha too; he’ll definitely want in on it,” Bokuto clenched his fists together, walking into the store with you. “I’m sorry that happened to you, honestly.

You shrugged your shoulder and rummaged through the ice cream pin, choosing a passionfruit-flavored ice bar. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I barely know you, anyways.”

“That doesn’t mean that I can’t protect you from jerks like that guy,” Bokuto angrily shoved his hands in his pockets, tapping his foot on the tile. He fished about 400 yen out of his pocket and handed it to the cashier, ushering you out of the shop as quickly as possible. 

“What was that for?” you asked, unwrapping the popsicle. 

“I didn’t like how he looked at you, that’s all.” Bokuto huffed. He made grabby motions for your bookbag, which you handed to him with a confused look on your features. “Let me carry that, please. You’re too pretty to carry heavy stuff around like that all day.”

You paused your walk and stared at Bokuto, blushing softly. “You think I’m pretty?” 

Bokuto slowly nodded and gave you a crooked smile, blushing in turn. “Yeah, I really do. I was afraid to tell you before, but now I’m all fired up. I wanna protect you from creeps, y’know?”

You popped the ice treat out of your mouth and stepped forward, smiling softly. “We barely know each other, and you want to keep me safe? We haven’t even hung out once.”

“We’re heading to my house right now, aren’t we?” Bokuto shrugged, his blush not fading. 

You chuckled and took another step forward, the tips of your noses brushing against each other. “Yeah, I guess we are,” you whispered, your lips dangerously close to his own. “You know, I always thought you were kind of cute. In the athletic kind of way, I suppose.”

Bokuto dropped the bags he held onto the hot concrete beneath you, praying they wouldn’t roll down the hill you were standing on. You two were in a remote location, and the tension was thick. “You think I’m cute?” he tilted his head to the side, his eyelids dropping halfway. 

“Mhm,” you purred, your popsicle dripping from the intense heat. “Super cute.”

“Fuck,” Bokuto’s hands hovered above your waist, unsure of what you wanted him to do. “Uh, is it okay if I kiss you? Please, cutie?” he quietly pleaded, your lips basically touching at this point. 

You smiled and nodded, holding your melting popsicle behind your back. “Mhm, it’s okay.”

Bokuto smiled as his lips interlocked with yours for a minute, savoring the sweet passionfruit flavor that coated them. His hands squeezed your waist childishly, never wanting this moment between the two of you to end. This kiss was exactly how he dreamed it would be, soft and perfect. Just like you.

You pulled away after a bit and giggled, your popsicle having since fallen onto the heated pavement. Your sticky hands cupped his face, the pads of your thumbs running over his defined cheekbones. “You’re a good kisser,” you pecked his forehead bravely. “Like, a really good kisser.”

“Same to you, cutie,” his hands left your waist, choosing to instead secure your wrists. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that. So. Fucking. Long.”

 A chuckle escaped your lips as your hands fell to your waist again, intertwining your fingers with Bokuto’s. You had never notified it before, but he was much bigger than you. It made you feel safe and secure. Protected. “We should probably get to your house to study, shouldn’t we?” 

“Aw, I was having so much fun kissing you on the sidewalk!” Bokuto pretended to whine, kicking a loose pebble that was in his way. He easily picked up the bags with his spare hand and tossed them over his broad shoulder. 

“Tell you what,” you squeezed his hand. “For every question you get right, I’ll give you a kiss. Does that sound like a fair deal?”

“Hell yeah, it does!” Bokuto kissed you on the cheek in excitement. He practically skipped to his house with you in tow, excited for what the rest of the day would have in store.

[yup-thats-me]

My heart goes out to all the (anime) fathers!

Men who will one day come to you while you’re chopping up some vegetables for the meal, men with the guts to stare at you straight in the eyes and say, “Y/n…let’s get a divorce. I found someone much better than you.”

He asks for a divorce. You have a knife in your hand.

Without thinking, you rush after him. “Who’s the other woman, goddamn it! I swear to god I’ll kill you then I’d kill myself!” what else was your husband expecting after you spent eight years of your life together, not to mention you even have a five-year-old daughter for heaven’s sake!

“Mama, stop!” your daughter called out, her little eyes filled with tears. “You cannot kill my husband!”

Did she say “My husband’’?

Oh so that’s what made your husband say that. Looking back at the man, you almost killed him off with that stare. He had no choice but to shrug, gesturing to your daughter.

“Baby, can I ask why Daddy is now called ‘my husband’?” The little girl stayed silent, looking at her ‘husband’ who was instantly by her side and picked her up.

“Woman, I cannot have you make my lovely bride-to-be cry!” He would say while smirking.

Sighing, you soothe your daughter. “Baby, see this ring? Daddy has one on his finger too,” The girl’s eyes almost popped out at the revelation.

“That means Mama and Daddy are married. You cannot marry Daddy, baby.”

Loud wails filled the house. It took an ice-cream and a cookie to make her stop. When she did, the terrifying news was brought up again.

“That’s why, Daddy can’t marry you.”

“…then will I get my own ring too?”

Her question made one of you giggle while it made the other’s vein pop on his forehead. “Of course! My little princess will find a lover who will get on one knee and give the ring to her.” The little girl was relieved.

“NO! I won’t let it happen!” Your husband cried, making the girl cry again. He received a smack on the head and the laundry for a week.

tr: mikey, shinichiro, baji, chifuyu, kokonoi; kny: sanemi, zenitsu, tengen; jjk: gojo, yuji, inumaki, sukuna; bsd: ranpo, dazai, nikolai; windbreaker (aged up, ofc): umemiya, kiryu, sakura + your favs!

Men who wakes you up with coffee on bed. It’s no special day today but it was decided that the family of three would go out for a picnic, and the weather could not have been any better.

Men who would not even bother to ask you to make preparation of food and other requirements for the picnic. They would get up at dawn when it is still dark outside and silently begin the preparations for the day.

They would make countless dishes, each one better than the next, and pack them up so beautifully. When done with cooking, they would pack the blankets, wine, and juice for the kid(s), and get your favorite book packed and of course, he cannot miss out on his camera! He has to take many pictures of his family on their day out.

Men who would choose a quiet flower field away from the bustling city; perfect for a quite yet enjoyable trip. They would even lay out the food and help feed them to you.

They would lay in your lap while you read your book and your son close by, doing something with flowers. Your son would run up to the two of you, a flower crown in his hand and ask for your husband to sit up.

The little boy placed the crown on his father’s head, giggling all the while. “Daddy looks so pretty!’’

“Yeah, doesn’t he?” you agree with the boy. “But what about mommy?”

“I’ll make mommy a flower bouquet! Wait your turn!” The boy ran away again, skipping in his track.

Your husband’s lips found yours; soft and sweet. “I love you,” they would say softly. “And our soon,” with a chuckle.

“And I love you two, too.”

tr: draken, mitsuya, inupi, kazutora; kny: tanjiro, rengoku, muzan; jjk: NANAMI, geto, yuta; bsd: chuuya, akutagawa, fukuzawa, poe, atsushi, sigma, fyodor, kunikida; windbreaker: hayato, togame, hiragi + your favs!

do not copy, steal, or translate my work on any other sites. all belong to yup-thats-me on tumblr

[noyzinerd]

More Than Just A Body (Swap)

Thinking about a post-body swap Sterek fic.

One that fully takes place after a body swap has already been reversed (like, a sequel to a non-existent fic--where they swapped bodies, had to live as the other, got switched back, yet didn't get together by the end--that's constantly alluded to, but we never actually get to read), so we only see the aftermath.

Derek is super irritated and snippy for days after they get back into their own bodies. Stiles thinks it's because Derek feels pissed and humiliated he had to relive to highschool with insufferable teenagers, be helplessly human and weak, and generally listen to authority again (his dad). It definitely bums Stiles out to think that Derek found living his life so deplorable that he's still angry about it. So now both of them are upset and sort of avoiding each other.

It isn't until two weeks later, when their stand-off is starting to effect pack business, that Stiles gets fed up and confronts Derek.

"What's your deal, man? You've been super shitty ever since we swapped back. It's been two weeks. How can you still be mad about living as me? What, was doing the dishes and being forced to write 5,000 words about the Louisiana Purchase seriously that terrible? Look, I'm sorry you had to deal with my stupid, tissue-paper body for so long, but you can't just-!"

And before you know it, Derek has him shoved up against a wall. He's still pissed, yeah, but, for some reason, he also looks...hurt and broken inside.

"Your body isn't stupid, Stiles! It was the best thing to happen to me in years!"

Stiles is stunned speechless. Derek's fingers are trembling around the grip he has in Stiles' shirt. There's so much pain in those green-blue eyes that it actually aches to look in them. It looks almost like grief.

Like Derek is in mourning.

Derek's not crying, but his eyes are definitely shinier as he continues, "You have no idea what you have, Stiles. What I had. For the first time since the worst fucking day of my life, I got to do normal things, like chores and sports. Not a single person expected anything of me o-or looked to me for answers. I didn't have to worry about fucking up and getting people killed, because the smartest guy I knew was taking care of my body like it was something precious. And all I had to do in return was live your beautiful, quiet life. A life where someone gently woke me up for school and nobody found me too intimidating to get close to.

"I got to know what it was like to be loved by a father again, Stiles! To say the words 'I love you, too, Dad' when I didn't think I'd ever get another chance. I-I got to be hugged and have people smile at me like they were glad to see me and I'd get to look in the mirror in the morning to the sweetest smile at the start of my day and hear your voice every time I talked. It was perfect." Somehow, Stiles has found his face streaked with tears even though the tears valiantly sticking to Derek's lashes still haven't fallen as his voice breaks over his words.

"A-and now? All I get to wake up to is me." The word is spit out with acid and venom. "I get to wake up alone in a cold, silent, empty, concrete room and look at a face in the mirror that makes me sick. I get to go back to my pathetic fucking life where I have to choose between literally fighting against an endless wave of people out to kill me or using my family's blood money to buy myself a microwavable dinner for the night. The only difference is that now...now I'm haunted by the feel of your fingers through my hair, your arms wrapped around me," at this, Stiles can feel his heart cracking apart at the thought of Derek using his body to simply hug himself, "y-your voice telling me that I'm going to be okay, and just-just the sight of your skin and your eyes and-and-I just, I can't, Stiles, I-I can't-!"

Stiles is clutching Derek so tight to him in an instant, tucking him into his neck and slowly lowering them to the ground as Derek collapses and sobs into him.

---

Once the tears are all dry, Stiles finally picks up the courage to be vulnerable too. He owes it to Derek.

At least it'll be easier now that he can't see the werewolf's reactions.

So, as he's stroking the other's hair, Stiles tells him about how he wishes Derek could see the man he fell in love with the way Stiles can.

He tells him about how he fell in love with a man whose heart is so big and full of kindness that he physically cannot stop himself from helping people, no matter how much he likes to pretend that he doesn't care.

The man he loves is powerful, resilient, and stronger than any one person has any right to be, yet so fragile as to be afraid of loving someone too much because he might be shattered.

The man Stiles loves is smart, sassy, thoughtful, stubborn, awkward, grumpy, sweet, and so so deserving of hugs and smiles and kisses and praise, because Derek is and has always been more than just a body.

Stiles tells him about how, during their swap, he made sure to take warm baths with nice smells, nap in cozy blankets, and massage his hands and feet with lotions because Stiles wanted to take care of Derek's body as much as he could while he got the chance. He did it because he wanted to help Derek and this was the only way he thought he could.

If there had been even the slightest indication that anything more would've been well received, Stiles would have already done it. All he wants is permission.

"Please...let me take care of you?"

---

So, slowly, day by day, Stiles enfolds Derek into a gentle life.

Stiles is Derek's strongest advocate, his extra set of hands to help carry his burdens, his pillow, his introduction to new things and new people.

They're always wrapped around each other, all the time, almost like Stiles is scared of Derek getting cold.

Despite the confession, things remain G-rated for a while. Cuddles, hand-holding, caresses, just touching. Shy kisses eventually make an appearance after some time, but they remain sweet, loving little things.

Stiles makes it perfectly clear that he's fine waiting to make a move until he's sure being intimate can't possibly be mistaken as anything else. He needs Derek to understand that this isn't obligation or pity. Stiles loves Derek. And Stiles is going to take his time because he wants Derek to feel loved beyond his body, no matter how long it takes.

By the time Derek feels whole again, now living with the Stilinskis and smiling softly as a default expression, they find themselves in front of the bathroom mirror having their first time together.

It's definitely not kinky. Mostly reverent, full of "It's okay, I'm right here", fingers laced tight together, flashing eyes, and a bit of emotional tears. It's gentle and assuring, with promises of never being alone again, and whispers of "so beautiful" and "so sweet" and "so perfect". Climax is rewarded with praises, hands stroking up arms and down backs, and "I love you"s are slurred through dropped fangs and traded back and forth between kisses

But as expected, finally having sex doesn't magically make Derek love himself. It's still a long road. Because even if Derek doesn't completely hate his life anymore, there are those hard days where he still has problems with 'being Derek'.

And maybe one day Derek will learn to love the body he lives in.

Until then, Stiles will just have to love it for him.

[chrissy-kaos]

**⚠️ trigger warning ⚠️ ** (depictions of suicide)

I’m really not sure where to begin.. So bear with me because I’m just going ramble and write down the thoughts that I’m having rn. It’s going to be all over the place and whatever but you’ll get it. I want to be as transparent as I can.

If you’re not ok with talking about suicide I would step away from this post.

So I’m pretty sure most of you can tell it’s been a terrible past few months for me. Honestly probably the last year and change but who’s counting. But over the last few months I put myself in a whole and couldn’t get out. I got to the point where I didn’t want to wake up, move or be seen. My depression and anxiety were completely uncontrollable. My meds weren’t working anymore. I was at a loss. I tried to get help a few times through my drs but they really weren’t helping at all.

I felt alone and had nobody else to turn too. Deep into my fear of the world and being depressed came a very unexpected surprise. I found a person that was pretty damn near perfect. We were actually friends prior and he stumbled across my tumblr. He decided to reach out at one of the car meets. We had been talking for a long time. Finally we decided to go out on a date. It was amazing. We did go karts, had some amazing Italian food, ice cream after. It was wonderful. We continued to date and hangout over the last few months. I was finally starting to feel ok. I had a reason to wake up everyday.

As time went on I was falling for this guy and he was too.. so he said. Finally I decided that I would have sex with him. If you didn’t know I’m a demisexual. So without having a strong emotional connection I’m not attracted to someone. So we went on another date. It went so good. We go back to his place we have some of the best sex I’ve ever had in my life. It’s probably because I liked him so much. I stayed for a while and then head back home. We left on good terms.

The next day I don’t hear from him. I said ok cool he must be busy. He’ll snap me when he’s got a min. 3 days go by. At this point he’s ghosted me. On day 5 he texts me and tells me he’s sorry. I’m obviously mad at this point and I blew up on him. Long story short he finally says he just wanted to fuck a trans girl to see what it’s like and that he was disgusted with himself after. Thinking that it makes him gay or something. I’m completely devastated. It hurt. He told me so many things about himself, goals, plans. He even told me he loved me.

Overnight he decided I wasn’t good enough for that anymore. He threw me away like I didn’t mean anything to him. He refuses to talk to me or even show his face at the meets. So this goes on for a few days and then my depression just gets worse and worse. I knew it was completely consuming me but I was helpless to stop it. When you feel like a dirty pile of trash that someone just discarded in a ditch it’s hard to come back from that.

This was the last straw for me.. I was done after that

While all of this was going on I’m been battling depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts. I ended up locking myself in my room for 3 days. I didn’t want to move. The whole time wishing I was dead. Fighting the urge to un-alive myself. It was the hardest 3 days of my life. On day 4 I broke. Everything just came all at once and I was powerless to stop it. So I decided death was better than all of this pain and suffering. I wrote my suicide note. It’s not the first one I’ve ever wrote but it was the hardest one. I’ve tried to in the past and all were failed attempts. But this one was different. I knew I’d go through with it.

That night I took a cocktail of pills, something like 25 all together. I drank a bottle of vodka too. I was really ready to die. I really wanted to. It’s crazy to think about that now. But yea, I just so happen to not speak with Koala for few days prior. She check to see if I posted on tumblr which I did. That’s when she knew she needed to come check on me. I guess when she found me I was unresponsive and covered in my own vomit. She quickly called medical services and I was taken to the hospital. They pumped my stomach and I guess I was ok? I don’t remember any of this. I just remember waking up in the hospital. The dr told me that because I drank so much alcohol and it made vomit that probably saved my life. I guess I threw up majority of the pills. She had told them it was a suicide attempt. She found my note. She wasn’t about to take the situation lightly. They made me speak to a counselor and put me on the suicide prevention program list. I have to go every morning now for the next 3 weeks. It’s not ideal but it’s something.

I’m doing much better now. They changed my medication and it’s working. It’s crazy that it got to that point. It’s also such bullshit that it takes something so drastic to get medical help. It’s like they don’t actually care. Which is insane to me. But I’m not saying it’s not going to happen again.Tho hopefully with the help I have now it will certainly diminish the possibility.

I know this is a hard subject to talk about. As a someone that has trouble talking to people in general but I urge you to go and talk to someone if you’re having thoughts like that. There is no coming back from death. It’s not pretty or glamorous. It’s not something to be idolized. If you know anyone that you may suspect is thinking about it please go talk to them. Help them! Sometimes we’re too scared to ask for help!

Please call your local crisis hotline. Don’t wait. You matter! Your life is precious! And yes people do love you!

[obsessedwrhys]

I was wondering if I could request a Leo or/and Donnie x reader. (I don’t know if you do multiple- if you don’t- super sorry! Just do whichever one you feel in the mood to do) where if someone runs a finger through their hair or scratches for scalp they just melt? Like full on limp- very easy to make reader stop overworking themselves, cuddle with them, just get them to sleep, ya know! Hope that makes sense lol!

DISASTER TWINS X TOUCHSTARVED!READER

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ fluff, no angst, reader is gn!! (I didn't know what to name this headcanon 🤷🏻‍♀️)

LEO

You just know being with this man means being constantly showered with affection.

That's why you two are easily the perfect pair.

Everytime you find yourself stressed from your work, he could feel his senses kicking in from a mile away. Before you know it, he's already by your side to provide emotional support.

"Alright alright!! Time to take a break!! Chop chop!!" He'd shoo you out of the chair and drag you to his bed.

He knows how hard your work is, at least he does from the things April has told him. That's why he goes over the top when helping you unwind.

Back massages, feet rubs, and your favourite, head massages. Dude would definitely purchase body oil for you. The way he so delicately runs his hands through your hair while also making sure he applies just enough force for it to be soothing. You couldn't help but hum happily.

Those noises being signs that he's doing things just right!!

Apart from that, if you were to finish your work, he would definitely reward you by buying all your favourite snacks while also cuddling together to watch a show you've been meaning to start.

But if you're too tired. He'd just play your comfort songs as you guys just cuddle to sleep.

He has a ton of playlists that contains your favourite songs.

You could ask him about that one song you don't remember the name to and he'll instantly know which one you were talking about.

He likes to brag about having such a hard working partner to his brothers.

Like pleaseeee you wish you could get lucky like me 🤭

Of course he's not fine with you overworking yourself. That's a huge no no for him.

If you were to object his idea of taking a break, this man will straight up kneel down and rest his head on your lap like a dog desperate for your attention. He wouldn't stop sighing or making sad noises until you've given in.

He knows you like physical touch so if you ever liked, he wouldn't mind keeping you company as you worked, which most of the time resulted in him falling asleep on the table.

He just wants to be apart of it okay!!! You like to tell him he's doing a good job even though he doesn't do much but play with the pencil by trying to balance it on his nose.

100% cutie patootie

DONNIE

Now this man don't play around.

If you tell him you need to get the work done on time then this man will help you make sure it's done on time.

He's extremely helpful, he watches as you work but he won't intervene unless you request for his assistance. That's because he wants you to grow and solve things by yourself.

However if he were to see you start to burn out from frustration, he'd suggest you guys to take a break which he likes to call "Coffee break"

Do not ever say no to coffee break because this man will talk you to tears by justifying about a topic you strongly disagree on.

He'd brew you both a cup of coffee, but if you happen not to be into caffeine then tea will do.

Since he's aware of how you seem to shut off your mind from physical touch, he would cuddle with you as he just scratches your scalp. The way your eyes flutter close makes him smile to himself.

As someone who also struggles with burn outs, he would hate for the same to happen to you. Yeah sure he doesn't take care of himself that well but that doesn't mean he'll let that happen to you!!!

If you are ever too exhausted, he'd offer to wash your hair for you. You know like those things they have at the saloon where you lay down and put your hair in the open sink thingy (im lazy to find the name)? Yeah he'd definitely make one in his lab just for your personal use.

He would 1000% watch tutorials online to give you that sensational experience.

Everytime you guys cuddle to sleep, you would still be a little awake to feel his hands tracing the features on your face. This habit of his pretty much became a routine that you have a harder time of sleeping if he isn't caressing your face.

He likes to reward you with kisses on the forehead everytime you get your work done. But that's not all, he'd always invent something new just for you. He may or may not have caught a sneak peek of your wishlist, and since some of the things you've wished for can be easily made by him. Why not save that money and let him do his magic?

He surprises you each time with the gifts and you are grateful every time.

Cuddles during movie night is a must!! I don’t know why but I just have a feeling this man probably has like a small cinema hidden in his lab.

You guys would always watch any TV series together, like one will not continue on to the next episode without the other there to watch it with them.

His cuddles are the best when you guys are watching romance movies. Especially during a romantic scene. His body would scoot closer to yours without him even realising. His arms around your body tightening slightly as he nuzzles his face a bit onto your skin.

100% supportive bf

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Tough Day

Summary: Aaron Hotchner x Fe!Reader -> You and Aaron have known each other a long time, and in that time you have looked after him. Now it's his turn to look after you.

Disclaimer: I'm on a CM re-watch and wanted to write something for Hotch. Mentions of being injured in a case, bullet wounds, blood. Moments of fluff. Not proof read.

You and Aaron had known each other…a long time. You hadn’t been in the academy together or anything, but you had just…known each other. It started out that you just so happened to live down the street from him. Or, so you both found out when you seemed to run into each other for a few weeks, recognising each other’s faces but never quite plucking up the courage to ask where you knew each other from. 

Turned out, it was from work. 

Despite Aaron working as Unit Chief of the BAU, you worked just a few floors above him as a part of the Organised Crime Unit. 

Every day, you’d both get in around the same time, ride the same elevator and do the same when going home. 

Eventually, it led to a conversation. About the local grocery store which had shut down early for the night. You and Aaron had both seen each other in the aisle of that same grocery store after work a couple times a week. And considering you knew the owner, you gave him a word of warning. 

After that…conversations became casual. 

Then you worked on a case together. 

The only member of the team you had met, properly, before was JJ. You both talked about the cases your teams could take on. You had the privilege of conversing with Penelope Garcia a few times but despite working in the same building, you never seemed to run into her. 

It was JJ’s assurance that she was real that made you believe so. 

And it was after that case yourself and Hotch made a sort of friendship. From working, to riding the elevator to going home. 

When the power went down on your block, Hotch was the first person to knock on your door to make sure you were okay. Yet, despite him being the profiler, you could read his underlying fear a mile away. 

He had paperwork, cases, people – all that needed to be looked after. 

So you helped him. 

You helped him with the paperwork, mostly. But the way he talked about the cases had you wishing you’d thought twice about doing the profiler classes. 

He made it seem so interesting. Compared to the speech you were given by your old professor in college, Hotch made behaviour profiling seem like one of the most interesting jobs in the world. Except for the working hours. But you could help with that, slightly. 

And over the next couple of years, yours and Aaron’s friendship grew to the point where the whole team knew who you were, and when you couldn’t be found in or around Hotch’s office during his lunch break, something was up. 

Everyday, you brought him lunch. 

You had a habit of making too much food the night before, meaning it either got left in your freezer until past its frozen date or you got sick of it, you either had to find someone to give it to or simply throw it out. 

And considering you knew Aaron spent most of his lunch break working. It gave you the perfect excuse to visit him, make sure he was okay, and take a break from your work whilst also making sure he took a break from his. 

You did a lot of things like that, Aaron noticed. 

How you made sure the people around you were looked after. To you, it didn’t seem like such a big deal. So? You made a little extra, so what? 

But he also noticed the way you made sure everyone around you was okay. If they needed a break from work, you’d get them a coffee from the machine and tell them to do so. To talk, walk, or go and read a book for fifteen minutes. 

You kept your hands over Penelope’s eyes on difficult cases. 

You knew, just from a text alone, that it was a difficult case for Hotch. So, it was never a surprise when, on those occasions, you could be seen in the back of a video call with Penelope discussing a case. 

Hotch didn’t know it right away, but after he stepped foot inside your home, seeing the way the blankets were folded on the plane let him know not only had they been washed – they smelled like you, in a comforting way – but you had folded them and placed them in the best places to sleep. 

He also spotted other, slightly smaller gestures you made to his team, and your own. 

Like the way you made sure certain members of your team, if they had a temporary fear after a particularly harrowing case, could sit where they would best be comfortable. Your eyes were always scanning a room and the minute something seemed to be wrong, it was like a sixth sense and you shot up out of your chair and moved in between the thing that was bothering whoever needed protecting. 

You’d put yourself on the firing line so many times, and each time it was as if nothing had ever happened. Of course, it shook you. It would shake anyone. However, whenever someone asked if you were okay, you would answer the same. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” or “I’m good. Why?”. 

To everyone else, despite how weird it was for them to hear those words – that you were okay – after such incidents, confused them. But eventually…it became accepted. No-one saw anything wrong with your reaction. They never followed up on the question. Every evaluator signed you off into field work pretty quickly, mostly down to your response. 

It was almost like a knee jerk reaction. 

However, by having the Unit Chief profiler as your friend, that meant eventually your knee jerk reaction was made to a brick wall. 

“If there is ever a day where you’re not, please come to me.”

“I’ll be fine, Aaron. I promise.”

Aaron took you by the arm lightly. “I mean it. The other’s might accept it – and I will, for now. But, if there is ever a day…please come to me.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Hotch. I can take care of myself.”

“You’re busy enough taking care of everybody else.”

You smiled at him. “I promise you. I’m okay.”

And you were, for a while. 

It was late in the evening. Far past office hours for Hotch to still be working. Except, he still was. Until something shifted. He didn’t know what, and he didn’t know why. But something shifted. 

And when he turned his gaze to outside his office, down to the dimly-lit bullpen, he saw it. 

He hadn’t seen you for a while. You’d make up small but forgivable excuses about lunch. If he saw you in the grocery store, you were just leaving as he was arriving. In the morning’s you were either in your office an hour early, or an hour late. 

On the late nights and early, early mornings Hotch would arrive home from a case, he saw your lights were still on inside your home. For a while, he thought you had just fallen asleep down stairs. Until he saw small movements from behind the curtains. You were still awake. 

One afternoon, Hotch had texted you. “Are you okay?”

But your reply was…happy. 

It was easy to hide behind a text message that didn’t require a facial expression to prove otherwise. 

So, out of hours, he asked Garcia to check on your file. You wouldn’t tell him yourself and a conversation with both JJ and one of your teammates had explained to him what had happened, it a roundabout way. 

From over Garcia’s shoulders, Hotch quickly read the case report. 

You’d been injured. Badly. You had insisted you were fine, but when the paramedic checked you over, you were taken straight to the hospital. 

From there, the doctors performed a surgery to ensure all pieces of the bullets were removed from your body. 

Your evaluation later meant you were out of the field for a while, however could still consult on certain cases from the office. 

It also said in your file that you had been transferred…from organised crime to violent crimes. Six months prior to your accident. Which meant you had been working on his floor for six months, undetected. 

It also meant you had been avoiding him…more. 

Until the moment when Hotch saw you, because you wanted him to see you. 

Stepping out of his office, the closer he got towards you, made you slow your own steps down. 

For a few moments, it was silent. Not a word was passed between either of you. You looked…tired. Exhausted, even. Your skin was a little duller around your cheeks rather than brighter and happier from your smiles. Your usually polished nails were bitten. The skin around the tips were slightly redder than usual. 

And your eyes. 

Your eyes spoke a thousand words your mouth could not. 

“I-I don’t know what to do.” Your voice broke as you spoke, looking at Aaron with a slight shrug. It was taking everything you had left in you to come to him. You didn’t know what for or what he could do, but you just…felt you had to. 

He was the one you trusted the most. 

You felt tears prick your eyes but just before the first tear fell, Aaron was striding towards you before wrapping you in his arms, with one hand cradling the back of your head. 

“It’s okay. You don’t have to do anything.”

Hotch felt your arms come up to his back, hugging him. All the while, your tears soaked into his shirt. 

He had an idea of the amount of strength it took for you to come to him. 

You had always been so stable. So constant. Sometimes he even wondered if you were human. But this was more than enough proof. 

That same night, Hotch drove you home. 

You hadn’t been sleeping. He knew that much. But by the look of your home, the place you had spent most of your time was your living room. Everywhere was tidy, except your bedroom. That was too tidy. It looked like it hadn’t been slept in, in months. Dust was gathering on top of your book on your bedside table. There were no creases, at all on your bed. 

He waited for you to take a shower and by the time you got out, towel drying your hair, your bedroom seemed fresher. And from the kitchen you could smell pasta and sauce. 

Aaron was cooking. 

You had spent most of your life looking out for the people who surrounded you. But now, he was going to look after you. 

And he did. 

That night, he stayed by your side. You had fallen asleep to the sounds of Gene Kelly laughing at whatever Donald O’Connor was singing as he stood up on a piano. And Hotch stayed by your side the entire night. 

He knew you hadn’t been sleeping. Something you confirmed after your tears had run, almost, dry back at the office. 

Part of him was worried if he made a single movement, you’d wake up and not get back to sleep. And he didn’t want that. But another part of him wanted to stay because he knew it was what you would do, if the shoe was on the other foot. You deserved to have that. To have someone to stay with you. Stay for you. Because they wanted to. 

And he wanted to. 

He wanted to make sure you were okay. That you could relax when you woke up and not panic. 

But it didn’t just stop there. 

Hotch would find ways to help you, too. Just like you had with him. He came to you every lunch break to check in on you. And when he couldn’t, he made sure Garcia did. 

When a couple of your cases overlapped, he made sure to stay by your side. You could put up a front for everyone else, but not for him. That wasn’t how your friendship worked. If he had to be honest with you, you had to be honest with him. No matter how much it would hurt. 

Whenever you’d go over a case together, and Hotch would spot your hand shaking, his own found yours. 

Taking yours in a firm grip, he stood just a little bit closer to you allowing you to lean on him. 

When you felt like you needed some space from…everything, Hotch made sure a seat was left for you in a corner where you could see everyone and everything without having to come into much contact with people. 

And when you needed to sleep after a case, he was there to lend a shoulder for you to lean on. 

They were smaller gestures, but they meant a whole lot to you nonetheless. 

But Hotch’s worst fear for you came true when on a case in Ohio. 

You were alone with an unsub, in a situation not unlike the one you had been in that had led you to be honest with him in the bullpen that evening. 

Your phone had gone dead whilst mid-conversation with him over what you could see in the house you were investigating whilst Morgan had just stepped into the second living room which somehow shut him out of the rest of the house. 

Hotch and the rest of the team rushed to your location as soon as possible and all he could hope was that you would be safe enough until he got there. 

Only when they finally pulled up outside of the home, Hotch’s vehicle was one of the last to arrive. This meant he was Morgan coming out of the house with the unsub in cuffs, but it also meant he saw you. 

And it felt like everything slowed down. 

You seemed a little off in your own world before you spotted him and when you did, you paused before running towards him, throwing your arms over his shoulders, repeating the words; “I’m okay. I’m fine. I promise I’m okay.” to him.

Maybe it was the truth, or rather, part of it. But it was also in an attempt to convince yourself that you were. 

Aaron pulled back for a moment before checking you over. 

“You’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding.” He repeated, touching his thumb softly to your head. 

“I’m okay.”

“We’re getting you looked at.”

“Hotch, I’m fine. I promise.”

“Bullshit. You’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine-”

“You’re not fine. You’re-”

“Aaron!” You seemed to come back to reality for a moment, before bringing your hand to touch his face and make him look you in the eye. “I’m okay. I-I’ll be okay.”

Aaron nodded after a moment. 

“But you’re still seeing a medic.”

[munsonsmixtapes]

Soon You'll Get Better

Evan "Buck" Buckley x fem!reader

summary: you and Buck decide to keep your pregnancy a secret until the time is right, but an accident makes it all come out and everyone comes together to comfort the two of you

word count: 4k

cw: graphic description of a car accident and injuries, hurt/comfort, Buck has panic attack

Things with you and Buck had been perfect since you had made amends in your apartment. Your pregnancy was a little secret between the two-well, the two of you and Athena and Scarlett-and you had planned on keeping it that way until you were far along enough to where a miscarriage wouldn’t be an issue. You felt horrible for keeping such big news from your uncle, but you were just trying to take the proper precautions. 

You had been staying at Buck’s more often than Scarlett’s so the two could be in your own little world with your baby. You’d make meals together as you danced around the kitchen to whatever playlist Buck had on and he’d spin you around, pulling you into kiss after kiss, telling you how grateful he had been for you and for the baby. It seemed like he talked to your stomach more than he would to you and that was more than okay with you.

He’d insist on laying on your stomach while the two of you watched tv after a long day of work for the both of you and he’d tell the baby about his day and you’d scratch his head as he did so, always feeling like you were going to cry as you watched him. If he was like that with your unborn child, you knew that he was going to be the best dad once the baby finally came.

Athena had told you that you had to be the one to tell Bobby about your pregnancy, so he was very much still in the dark as far as the topic was concerned. You weren’t showing yet, but every time you were around him, you were paranoid that he somehow knew your secret. So, you resorted to wearing big cardigans or holding a pillow in front of your stomach when you sat down on their couch or one of the chairs. 

After you got settled in, Bobby and Athena insisted on having weekly dinners with you and it was becoming even harder to hide your growing stomach. But you tried your best, knowing that you just had to hold on a bit longer before you could find out the sex of the baby and then you and Buck were going to make an announcement to the rest of the 118. 

It was the night of the week when you went over to Bobby’s for dinner and he had you pick up a dessert on your way there, but you had decided to show up early so you could talk to Athena before Bobby got home for work. 

As soon as you got in the car, you noticed that Buck was calling you that, signaling that he had just gotten to work. It seemed like he was always calling you when they were just sitting at the firehouse and you hardly minded. His coworkers did, though. Always rolling their eyes at him and even going as far as making bets to see how many times he’d call you during one shift. So far, the record was twenty-seven. 

“Hey,” you picked up and Buck let out a sigh of relief. He didn’t know why he was always so worried that something was going to happen to you or the baby. Maybe that was why he always called so much. To give himself a peace of mind. 

“Hi,” Buck replied, a bright smile appearing on his face. “I miss you.” 

“I miss you too, but you’ll be at Bobby and Athena’s for dinner, right?” Just as you pulled out of the parking garage, you noticed that it was raining hard which was something that you hated to drive in. It was always unpredictable and accidents seemed inevitable so you tried to avoid driving in it as much as possible. 

“I wouldn’t miss it,” he replied, then let out a sigh, moving over to the kitchen so everyone couldn’t hear him. “When are we going to tell them? Bobby keeps looking at me like he knows something and I’m honestly becoming afraid of him.” He eyed the man who was sipping on his coffee while talking to the other members of the 118 as they all sat at the table. Bobby was getting suspicious and Buck could see it.

“Bobby wouldn’t hurt a fly, you know that,” you told him as you turned into traffic, finding yourself at a red light. The rain was coming down harder and it was getting more difficult to see which was worrying you. “And we will tell them when we find out the sex.”

“Sleeping with you was one thing, but if he knows that I got you pregnant, he’ll have my head.” Buck wasn’t scared that Bobby would hurt him, but more to give him a lengthy lecture and Buck would rather clean the bathrooms of the fire house every single day of his life than get yet another lecture from Bobby. Especially when that lecture centered around his sex life.

“Baby, I think you’re being a bit dramatic,” you let out a chuckle as the light turned green and you pressed on the gas, maybe going a little too fast as you tried to get to Athena’s as quickly as possible to get out of the rain. 

“You realize he’s going to want to talk to the both of us, right? That’s why he invited me over for dinner too.” 

“I don’t know why you’re so scared, Evan. It’s just Bobby. And Athena will be there to back us up. You know that. Just take some deep breaths, okay?” You asked as you got to another light, but quickly passed it as it turned red, not wanting to sit in traffic any longer, especially since LA traffic was a nightmare and rain made it even worse. 

You were going a little faster than you should have and soon enough, you were starting to hydroplane, your car spinning out of control as you tried to take your control back. But the car had a mind of its own as it spun around to face traffic for a split second until it turned off the road and slid down the grass that was to the left of it. 

You were screaming into the phone, telling Buck what was happening, but everything you were saying was unintelligible on the other line. Buck wasn’t sure what was going on, but it definitely wasn’t good and he was becoming scared for you. The last thing he heard was you screaming his name before he heard a loud crash. 

Your car slammed into a tree, crunching the front bumper. The force in which your car hit the tree knocked you unconscious as your head hit the steering wheel hard before the airbags deployed. You laid there as Buck yelled into the phone, trying to get your attention, but it was no use. You were out cold. 

Hearing Buck’s urgency, the other members of the 118 turned to him, wondering what was going on. He hung up the phone and pocketed it before rushing over to Bobby to tell him that he needed to go find you. 

“What’s going on, Buck,” Hen asked  as Buck approached the table. He looked like he had just seen a ghost. 

“It’s y/n,” Buck replied. “I was just on the phone with her and all I heard was screaming and then a loud crash. And she wouldn’t respond when I called her name. I have to see her, Cap.” 

“I’m sure she’s fine, Buck,” Chimney gave Buck’s shoulder a pat. 

“Yeah, you probably just thought you heard something,” Hen agreed. Why was everyone brushing him off? He knew what he heard and clearly it was an emergency. If he didn’t get to you quick, you could have been dead. And Buck would have been damned if he let that happen to you.

“Bobby, you don’t understand. You have to bench me today.” He knew he wouldn’t be able to do his job if he was worrying about you the whole day and being a firefighter, he couldn’t afford to be distracted. He just wanted to make sure that you were doing okay and then he’d come back in time to respond to the next call. 

“No can do today, Buck,” Bobby shook his head as he stood up from the table to take his empty coffee mug to the sink. “I let you leave here a couple of weeks ago because of her and I can’t let you again today. You’ll see her at dinner.” As soon as the words left his mouth, the siren went off and he begrudgingly followed Bobby to the engine, worrying about nothing but you the entire way there. What he had heard wasn’t good and your screams along the loud crash replayed in his head on a torturous loop the entire ride to the scene.

It looked like a pretty bad car accident from what he could see. Rain was still pouring down on the city and Buck assumed that was the cause of the accident. There was a huge pile up and police had blocked off the intersection where the big part must have happened. The crew went up and down the line to check on every vehicle that was affected in the accident and thankfully, none of them had been life threatening. 

As Buck helped Eddie remove a man from his car that had been completely crushed in the pile up, he couldn’t help but worry that you were in the accident, but Eddie assured him that you weren’t. That he was just paranoid and he wasn’t making him think rationally. They got the man on a board and carried him to an available gurney where he was rolled to the ambulance. 

While that was happening, Hen and Chimney got to the intersection and noticed that the guard rail had been driven through and looked down in the grass to see a vehicle had hit the tree that was down the hill. They made a beeline for it and Hen was the first to notice you in the driver’s seat. You were still unconscious with your head against the steering wheel and blood was pouring from the large gash on your forehead that was caused by a piece of glass that had swiped across it. 

Hen let out a gasp as she realized who you were and really hoped that Buck wasn’t around to see you. She ripped open the door that was a little bent from the accident and reached up to check your pulse, letting out a sigh of relief when she could feel your heartbeat. 

“I got a pulse!” She told Chimney then turned back to you, shaking your shoulder. 

“Y/n,” she called out to you “Y/n, can you hear me?” When there was no answer, she radioed that they needed a board and a collar and immediately. One of the firefighters from the other department rushed down with one and together, they got you onto the board and the two of them carried the board up the hill  where two paramedics were waiting with a gurney. 

They got you on it just in time for Buck to see you and he raced towards you, falling over his feet as he did so. Eddie was quick to help him up and he blocked Buck from getting to you, knowing that it would have been for his own good. He knew he wasn’t crazy. He knew it. And if he had left when he had wanted to, he would have been able to get to you in time before you had been knocked out. Okay, maybe that wasn’t true, but he was going to tell himself that it was. 

“Eddie, move, I have to get to her,” Buck yelled, trying to push Eddie out of the way as he watched Hen and Chimney push the gurney towards the ambulance. He pushed Eddie out of the way and moved to walk beside you, watching you lay there unconscious. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes and Eddie held him back so they could put you in the back of the ambulance. 

“Eddie, let me go,” he tried to wriggle out of his grasp. “I have to go with her.” He could feel sobs trying to escape his throat and was making an attempt to choke them down. He’d wait to do that at the hospital, not wanting to let his emotions fully take over when he was on the job.

“You’re too hysterical right now, Buck,” Hen told him. “Take some deep breaths and you can go with Bobby to the hospital.” Both her and Chimney got into the ambulance and the door closed behind them. It took off down the road and Buck broke down right there, collapsing onto his hands and knees and Eddie was quick to comfort him, resting his hand on his back as Bobby approached the two of them once he was sure that everyone was accounted for. 

All he could see was Buck on his knees and in all of the chaos, it seemed that everyone neglected to tell him what exactly had happened to his niece. All he knew was that something was wrong. Very wrong. He raced over to the pair and placed a hand on Eddie’s back. The man turned to face him and his face went white as he realized that it was his captain. 

“What’s going on here? Is Buck okay?” Buck had been affected by losing people before, hell, they all had, but something was off. He had never cried like that over a stranger, even when he felt like it was his fault. 

“Cap…it’s y/n…her car hit a tree. She’s stable but unconscious. They’re taking her to Presbyterian.” Without a single word, Bobby pulled Buck to his feet and both he and Eddie took him to the engine where they all piled in, heading straight for the hospital.

 Eddie sat next to Buck, comforting him as well as he could, but all he could think about was what happened to Shannon. He was in Buck’s exact position, just responding to a call when he saw her in the middle of the road. But it wasn’t about him this time. It was about Buck and Bobby and he needed to be there for them in their time of need. He continued to rub Buck’s back and as he let him cry, knowing that anything he said wouldn’t get into his friend’s head, so he kept quiet. 

All Buck felt on the way to the hospital was guilt. If he hadn’t called you then you wouldn’t have gotten into the accident. All of your focus would have been on the road and then you wouldn’t have swerved or whatever happened. It didn’t matter if it wasn’t his fault, he was going to tell himself that it was. He was going to beat himself up about it for the rest of his life. 

As soon as the engine pulled up to the hospital, the three rushed inside just as your gurney was rolled inside. Both Bobby and Buck made a beeline for you, tears welling up in their eyes as they watched your lifeless looking, blood-stained face. They both went to follow you, but a nurse blocked their path, telling them that they weren’t allowed to see you just yet as you needed surgery to have the glass removed from the slice on your forehead. 

So, hours passed as the three men sat in the waiting room, wordlessly waiting to be able to see you and or hear about your condition. It didn’t seem like you had been hurt that badly so what was the hold up? Every second that passed, Buck had been thinking the worst. Were you okay? Was the baby? Oh god, nobody knew about the baby and you weren’t far enough along yet to be showing very much so it wouldn’t have been obvious. 

“Mr. Buckley?” A voice asked and all three men whipped around, quick to stand to their feet as the nurse approached them. 

“It looks like has a slightly sprained neck and received some stitches for the deep cut on her forehead. There is a small break in her left leg from where it slipped from the gas pedal, but it should heal in a few weeks. Y/n and the baby are going to be just fine, Mr. Buckley. You should be able to go and see her in just a few minutes.”

You were okay. You were okay. And so was the baby. Sure, you had some injuries, but they were going to heal and you’d be good as new in no time. At that point, Buck was never going to let you out of his sight again just so nothing like that ever happened again. He didn’t know what he would have done if he lost you. If Bobby lost you. 

“Thanks,” Buck replied as tried to process all of the information and the nurse turned to leave the waiting room as Bobby and Eddie turned to stand in front of him. Oh, he was definitely in for an earful. 

“Baby?” They asked in unison. Of course, they knew that you and Buck had slept together, but your pregnancy was definitely not something that had been mentioned to either of them.

“Yes,” Buck replied, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. He had been carrying that secret for far too long for his liking and now that it was finally out in the open, he felt like he could finally breathe.

“So my niece is having a baby and neither of you thought I should know?” Bobby didn’t look angry, but disappointed and Buck actually thought that was worse. He did feel bad for keeping something like that for him, but ultimately wanted to leave that up to you since you were the one carrying the baby.

“I’m sorry. I just-we didn’t want to tell anyone too soon. We were going to wait until we found out the sex next week.” He was getting choked up. Even though everything was going to be okay, he still couldn’t help but be worried. That just seemed to be what he was feeling no matter what was going on. 

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” Bobby gave Buck’s shoulder a squeeze before pulling him into a hug. Buck held onto him tight and let out the sobs that he had been holding while Bobby felt his own eyes getting misty. 

Eddie just stood there, watching two people that he really cared about share a moment and feeling relief that you were okay even though he didn’t know you very well. He really didn’t know how he would’ve been if something worse had happened to you. To see both Bobby and Buck in shambles would have absolutely broken him and he wasn’t sure he could’ve seen them like that. Just watching Buck break down as the ambulance drove off was enough to break Eddie’s own heart. 

Just as the men pulled away from each other, Hen and Chimney entered the waiting room with Maddie in tow. Buck made a beeline for her and was quick to pull her into a hug, so grateful that his sister could be there for him during this hard time. She said nothing but encouraging words to him as she squeezed him, assuring him that he was going to be okay. 

“How is she?” She asked once she pulled away, grabbing hold of Buck’s hands. 

“She’s stable. Her neck is sprained and she has a broken leg, but other than that she's going to be fine.” He began to pick at the skin around his nails as the anxiety ate at him, all of the horrible possibilities playing in his mind still. He could feel his chest getting tight like he was on the verge of a panic attack, but he couldn’t have everyone worrying about him too. You were the priority at the moment. He sat down in the nearest chair in a way that wouldn’t cause suspicion and Maddie sat next to him.

“Oh, thank god,” Maddie let out a sigh of relief. She knew just how much you had begun to mean to Buck in the short time that you had known each other and knowing that you were going to be okay made her feel so much relief. 

“And the baby’s okay too,” Buck added, watching his sister’s eyebrows shoot up, her hands flying to her mouth. She had her assumptions with the way you had been behaving, but hearing that she was actually right was shocking. 

“A baby!” She exclaimed. “Buck, that’s amazing!” She pulled him into another hug, knowing that he was going to be the best dad. Seeing the way he had been with both Christopher and Jee-Yun, she was sure of it. Once she pulled away, she could see that he was still uneasy and reached over to give his back a rub. 

Not long after, the nurse told Buck that he could go back and see you and despite wanting Bobby to come with him, he knew he had to do it alone. He didn’t know why he was so nervous. You were asleep so it wasn’t like he was going to have to say anything to you. That was the part he was most anxious about. When you woke up, what was he going to say to you? For the most part, the man never knew when to shut up, but now he was rendered absolutely speechless. 

Buck stood in front of the door and let his hand hover, watching it shake as he lowered it to the handle. He slowly pushed the door open and hesitantly entered the room, sticking his shaking hands into his pocket as you came into view. He took everything in a little bit at a time. First, he looked at you, taking in your injuries: the giant scar along your forehead and your bruised cheek, the brace around your neck, and the cast that was on your left leg. Even though you were all banged up, Buck still thought you were the most beautiful he had ever seen. 

His eyes moved to your stomach and it somehow seemed bigger than when he had seen you that morning. You were starting to show a little, but not enough that it was obvious that you were carrying a baby. He was still in shock that you were both okay considering how bad the crash seemed to be, especially the baby. He had taken care of multiple women who hadn’t been as lucky, but you were. So much so that he felt lucky too. 

Buck sat in the chair that was next to your bed and scooted it so that it was almost right up against the bed. He then took your hand that was nearest to him in both of his and pressed a kiss to his before bringing it back down to rest on the bed. He gave it a squeeze then let his gaze fall back on your face. He could feel tears well up in his eyes and he wasn’t going to hold them back. He was allowed to cry and had to remind himself of that. 

“Hey, baby,” he said, reaching up and letting his hands graze over the bandage on your forehead. “It’s me,” he sniffed. “I’m here. I’m always here. And I just want you to know that I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to be right here until you wake up and I’m going to be right here when it’s time for us to go home. You’re so strong and you’re going to get through this. You’re going to be just fine.” One of his tears trickled down onto your gown and he decided that it was time for him to sit back so he just settled for holding your hand, perfectly content with just sitting there and watching you sleep.

He could feel himself drifting from all of the emotions and a long shift and eventually he closed his eyes right in the chair, your steady beat of heart on the monitor being the thing that lulled him to sleep. For once, he was able to sleep soundly and wasn’t having any nightmares about you or the baby. It all just a lot of nothing going on in his head and that was exactly the way he liked it.

Just when Buck was deep in sleep, he was awoken to a loud, consistent beeping from your heart monitor. He sat up and could see that you were flatlining and just when he was about to get someone, nurses and doctors rushed inside and ushered him out of the room. The door was slammed closed in his face before he could process what was happening and he quickly moved to the little window to see them starting compressions, but you still laid there, lifeless. They tried and tried again before pulling out the defibrillator. 

It was as if everything was moving in slow motion as the machine shocked you, but you still weren’t waking up. They all turned in Buck’s direction as they shook their heads and he just backed up from the window, falling to the floor as he lost his footing. A sob raked through his body as he sat there, crying that he had lost the one woman he thought he could keep along with the baby he loved more than anything in the world. You both were gone and this time, there was nothing he could do to save you.

[blossom-hwa]

melody of the heart [2] | k.th

pairing: Taehyun x fem!reader genre:  fluff, a pinch of angst, regency era!au, nobility!au warnings: period typical misogyny word count: 14.4k notes:  — this is for all the bridgerton girlies who have been going insane just like me <3 highly inspired by francesca/john's burgeoning romance from the first half, so hope you all enjoy! — some of the dialogue has been lifted from the show—I do not claim any credit for it. — this takes place in the same universe as my duke!yeonjun story, if you'll have me :) feel free to check that out as well! When your father calls you home from the continent to join the London season, for the first time in your life, you nearly throw a fit. You are not just the daughter of a viscount—you’ve made a name for yourself in England and abroad with your prodigious talent at the piano, having since childhood performed for royal courts far and wide. You have traveled far and beyond most other ladies of your rank, and to have your career halted all for the sake of marriage to a man who will likely force you to quit your craft is unthinkable. But all your life you have lived without raising a hand to your father, and so when the letter comes, you return home for the season, hoping and praying to make it through without stirring the waters.  Enter Taehyun Kang, Earl of Addiston—recently titled, in search of a wife, and as tired of the season already as you are. During a chance meeting at the season’s third ball you grow to know each other, and as time passes you grow to like each other, a mutual respect forming when you learn the depths of one another’s passions in the arts. In Taehyun you find a respite from the men who would clip your wings for the sake of finding a perfect wife. In you Taehyun finds a kindred spirit who would respect him for himself, and not the lands in his name. Together you navigate the grueling social activities of the London matchmaking project as acquaintances, then as friends, and maybe, just maybe— As lovers, too.  Part 1 >> Part 2

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When morning comes and you open your eyes, everything looks so normal that you decide last night wasn’t real. The sun is shining through the windows. The sky outside is blue. The queen did not happen upon you playing the piano last night, and she did not name you her diamond. 

Upon entering the drawing room, however, you begin to realize that the nightmare is in fact reality. 

Your aunt presides over a small army of servants arranging enormous bouquets of flowers, blooms of every color arraying the room. Your cousins hover over several piles of boxes, each tied with bright ribbon. Your father stands in the middle of it all, looking strangely pleased, and when he turns to you, one of his rare smiles is set against his face. 

You swallow. “What is going on?”

“You have done well for our family, my daughter,” he says, coming closer. For all the warmth in his voice you still almost shrink away—you’re not used to his kindness, and from the stilted edge to his words, he isn’t either. “The queen named you her diamond, and these are the gifts bestowed upon you for it.”

Against your will, last night comes rushing back. The Harlowe’s ball. All the noise, all the chatter. Lady Park striking up a conversation with you just when your head had started to hurt, and winking when she mentioned the Harlowe’s music room. Dark corridors and blessed silence and Mozart sonatas dancing beneath your fingers—

Then the queen herself appearing in the room, and with a smile on her face that only struck dread in your chest, naming you her diamond. 

She had accompanied you out of the room with her entourage following, Lady Park at her side. You couldn’t think of an excuse to get away. And so, when you entered the ballroom once more, you had no defense when the queen looked at you with a broad smile, and kissed your forehead in full view of everyone there. 

The diamond, you could practically hear everyone whisper. She’s been named the diamond. 

Head spinning, you swallow. “The queen does not give gifts to her diamonds,” you say dumbly. 

“These are not from the queen, silly girl,” your aunt says. “These are from your suitors, who hope to court your hand.” She smiles, oblivious to the dread pooling through your chest. “Come, my girl. See what gifts they have brought you.”

You let yourself be dragged to the center of the room where most of the gifts lie. Your cousins are definitely more eager to see them than you, so you let them open the boxes of jewelry and wow over the flowers, nodding and smiling perfunctorily as needed. You don’t really notice much of it, though, because you’re still trying to believe this isn’t happening. 

It is, though. And even though calling hour isn’t for a while yet, you have a sinking feeling that it’s going to be more crowded than it ever has been. If last night was anything to go by…

After the queen had kissed your forehead in full view of the room, there was a sort of pause. The orchestra kept playing, but even those on the dance floor stopped moving for a moment. Hundreds of eyes were fixed on you and you couldn’t even move, you were so frozen in place. Even when the room started shifting again, you couldn’t seem to unstick your feet from the floor until an outstretched hand had made its way into your line of vision, and you had to finally look up to see who it was. 

It was Lord Kang. And the relief you felt was—overwhelming. So overwhelming you almost started crying. In that moment, however cliché it sounds, you thought you could understand those scenes in fairy tales when the princess was saved by her prince, and while you may resent yourself for the fact that you needed saving, you’re endlessly thankful that he was there for it. 

“My lady,” he’d said like nothing just happened, kissing your hand. “I haven’t seen you all night. Congratulations on your new title.”

“Thank you, my lord.” If he noticed your voice shaking a little, he said nothing of it. “I apologize. I hid myself away for a while, for…some quiet.”

His eyes crinkled into one of his gentle smiles. “I heard,” he’d said, skillfully guiding you around the room. “The Mozart was wonderful. I would have said something earlier, but I didn’t want to interrupt you and then the queen arrived. I did not think either of us would want to be compromised, or stir rumors.”

“I should think not,” you had said, smiling a little. “I appreciate it.”

“Is your next dance taken?” he had asked, an abrupt change of subject. The music was dying away, the couples on the dance floor saying their goodbyes. You shook your head, and his eyes sparkled. “If not, would you mind if I stole it, then?”

This time, a real smile—your last of the evening—spread over your lips. “I wouldn’t mind at all.”

Lord Kang was a very good dancer—light on his feet with a good sense of rhythm, and a strong frame that guided you into each next step without you having to improperly initiate it yourself. A lovely respite from several of your earlier partners who seemed to have two left feet. In Lord Kang’s arms, you almost forgot the events of just some minutes ago, losing yourself in the easiness of his footsteps and conversation. Beyond his initial congratulations, he didn’t mention the queen’s designation once. Until the end of time you’ll be grateful for it.

But then the music ended, and reality came rushing back. 

Almost immediately after you’d made your curtsies and Lord Kang had taken his bow, you noticed several figures walking up to you. By the time you fully turned around, a small group had crowded in front of the dance floor, right where you would have stepped off. Men, all of them—all looking at you with varying degrees of interest, interest they never would have had if the queen had not made her declaration. 

For the second time that night, you froze. People were talking but you couldn’t hear what they were saying, the noise of the room a roaring buzz in your ears. Half of you had a mind to run out the nearest exit but your legs just wouldn’t move. 

You don’t know how long you stood there before Lord Kang’s voice finally cut through the din. “It seems your newfound title has caused some stir, my lady,” he had said quietly. You looked at him and he looked at you and there was a little smile on his face that helped ease your heart rate just slightly. Then his expression turned serious. “You need not do anything you do not like,” he said lowly. “If you would prefer, I can help you make some excuse.”

You would have taken him up on it. You’re not sure what he had in mind—fake a dizzy spell or headache, or just a need for some fresh air—but you would have done it. But then your aunt appeared in all her ill-timed glory and started filling the rest of your dance card with terrible efficiency, and all you could do was give Taehyun a small, sad little smile and whisper a thanks before some new gentleman ushered you onto the dance floor. 

Last night turned your mind into mush. Too many people, too many questions, too much dancing for your introverted self to handle. Gazing at the flowers and presents littered about the room now, you have the sinking feeling that calling hour is about to be even worse. 

Which it is. There are apparently men queueing in a line down the hall, waiting for a chance to speak with you. More flowers fill the drawing room, and your smile becomes increasingly fixed to your face with each new gentleman who enters the room. Most of them are pleasant enough and able to keep the conversation going even as your head begins to hurt more and more, but some of them are truly unpleasant people, and even your aunt’s face looks more pinched than usual when she ushers Mr. Yang-Tran out of the room. 

You don’t even get a respite at dinner. It’s all anyone can seem to talk about, and even your taciturn father puts forth several opinions on those who managed to call today. Those who didn’t make it during the designated hour left a plethora of flowers and gifts, and there’s a small mountain of calling cards sitting on one of the drawing room tables that you can’t really bring yourself to look through. Only one of them matters, anyway, and you stole that one away.

When the meal is over, you all return to the drawing room to continue the dinner chatter. They all seem to be so full of laughter and cheer that it makes you feel somewhat alien for not feeling the same, but it gives you more opportunity to sink into the corner of a couch fade into the background. With everyone’s attention diverted, you pull out Lord Kang’s card. It’s lovely, very elegant, but you don’t really care about how it looks. You flip the card around to see the words written on the back. 

My lady—

I hope you will not find it too forward of me to write, but I wanted to express my congratulations again on your well-earned title last night. I hope you will find some pleasure in it for I can think of no one more deserving of it this season than you. I apologize that I could not see you before calling hour ended, but I pray I will have better luck next time. 

You certainly hope so too. 

Swallowing hard, you look at the table, where an array of the most pleasing flowers and gifts have been laid out. Jewelry glitters in the candlelight, making the flowers almost seem to glow. But you only have eyes for the few books that lie beside them, their nondescript leather covers dark in the night. 

No one really notices when you stand. They don’t notice you picking up the books, then heading out of the room. No one follows you into the music room, where you shut the door firmly after lighting several candles to give the space a little light. 

For several hours you alternate between practicing and reading. The crease of paper beneath your fingers comforts you as you immerse yourself in sheet music and music history, and when a servant eventually comes to call you to bed, you feel well enough to go without complaint. 

On your nightstand rests a small bouquet of fresh flowers. Lord Kang left them with his card, and when you learned this you asked a servant to bring them to your room. You place the calling card next to the vase before blowing out the candle, crawling into bed, and falling into a dreamless sleep. 

. . . . .

The title of diamond is a coveted one, Taehyun knows, and it is an honor to receive it from the queen. So many debutantes each season have been vying for the designation and he can hardly fault them for it, not when it brings so much prestige. 

You are not undeserving of the name. Far from it. With your fame, quiet grace, and incomparable talent at the piano, Taehyun wonders why the queen didn’t choose you earlier. All of this talk about Her Majesty being bored, surrounded by ladies tripping over themselves to impress her in ways she’s already seen before, doesn’t quite make sense to him. Your honesty and genuine nature were obvious to him from the start. How could it not be to the queen?

Yet, for all Taehyun knows it is an honor, he still somewhat wishes the queen had given the title to someone else. 

For—well, selfish reasons. Taehyun privately resents the fact that all the men of the ton are now queueing at your door to shower you in empty compliments and vague flowers. He treasured the time the you spent together, the precious minutes he spent in your drawing room speaking with you or listening to you play the piano, and now all that time has been snatched away by the callers crowding your doorstep. Even at balls, between your aunt and the queen herself, he can only manage to catch you for moments at a time. A single dance. A snippet of conversation. Then your aunt has moved you on to someone else, or the queen would like to introduce you to another titled gentleman, and he has to bid you good night before they haplessly rush you off. 

Again, all very selfish reasons. Taehyun feels guilty every time he even thinks them. But in his defense—and Taehyun doesn’t like to presume—you don’t seem to be enjoying yourself nearly as much as someone named the incomparable of the season should. You haven’t said it to him directly, but Taehyun feels that you also would have preferred someone else to be the season’s incomparable instead of you. 

It doesn’t matter, though, because one does not refute the queen. She leads society and the season, and in this court of gossip and schemes, she reigns supreme. Which is the only reason why Taehyun hasn’t pretended not to notice her more than could be presumed polite, each time she comes around with a new marquess to introduce to you. He is not wealthy or important enough to save himself from her possible wrath. 

(The queen may be a kind woman, but the entire ton knows that she is a force to be reckoned with.)

With all this, the thought occurs to him to just propose sooner rather than later. It is becoming increasingly obvious that no other woman has and will capture his attentions quite the way you have, and you’re the only one to whom Taehyun would feel comfortable giving a betrothal ring. He doesn’t think you would say no. But at the same time, you’re a shy creature, and even he would prefer a little more time to court you. Couples have gotten married in far less time than the two of you have known each other, of course, but you deserve a proper courtship. And he would like for you to know one another better before he decides on a ring. 

All of which would be much more easily done if he could speak to you for more than a few short minutes at a time. 

And, perhaps, lady luck has decided to shine on him the night of the queen’s ball, only the most important event of the season. Taehyun counts himself lucky to have received an invitation, but more importantly, as the season’s diamond, he knows that you must be there too. He hops out of his carriage in front of the palace just in time to see you stepping out of yours a short distance away, moonlight glittering on your figure. 

For a moment, Taehyun forgets how to breathe. 

You look…beautiful. Not that you hadn’t been beautiful before, of course—you’ve been lovely since the moment Taehyun saw you that first night at the Tillings’ ball. But as Taehyun watches you settle on the ground, starlight sparkling over your dress, your headpiece, the elegant jewels around your neck and hands, he can see the delicate care you and your lady’s maids have certainly put into your appearance for tonight. 

And it was well worth it. 

Before he can stop himself, he’s walking in your direction. You don’t notice him immediately but when you meet his eyes, a smile seems to brighten your eyes as he bows. “My lady,” he greets, kissing your hand. “You look especially beautiful tonight.”

You duck your head shyly, but when you finally tip up your chin again, the smile has only grown. “Thank you, Lord Kang. I suppose the hours spent on my appearance were worth the time.”

“They certainly were.” He extends his arm. “May I walk you into the ballroom? I should appreciate this opportunity, having arrived so soon after one another, to speak with you. It seems we are always being interrupted, or that there simply isn’t enough time.”

“I would love that,” you reply sincerely. Inwardly, Taehyun preens a little when you don’t even look at your aunt before taking his arm. 

“I must apologize for all the interruptions,” you say as the two of you begin walking up to the palace. Your smile seems to drop a bit. “I…do not believe I was properly prepared to understand all that goes into being a diamond. I do not mean that I am not honored by the queen’s attentions,” you add quickly. “But I suppose I had not expected that so many would now ask for a piece of my time.”

“Your time was valuable even before you were made the diamond,” Taehyun replies. “I’m only honored that you shared it with me. But do know that you are deserving of this title.” He smiles, a little teasingly. “Though I must admit, it is nice to be able to see you now without the other gentlemen vying for your affections as well.”

You pause for a moment, as though picking your next words carefully. “If you must know, my lord,” you finally say, “they never posed much competition to you.”

Taehyun looks at you quickly. You look back at him, holding his gaze for a moment before you turn away, shoulders lifting shyly as though to shield you from…something. Anything. 

He lifts a hand to your chin and turns you gently his way again. “Thank you, my lady,” he says softly when you meet his eyes again. “Your words do me the greatest honor.”

“I only speak the truth,” you reply steadily, though Taehyun hears the tremor carefully hidden behind your words. It only endears you to him more. 

The two of you enter the ballroom together. Lights burst in Taehyun’s vision, crystal and glass glittering everywhere. Next to him, your breath seems to catch, and he feels much the same as he steps into the large, sparkling room. The fanciest place he’s ever been was the duke and duchess’s own ballroom. It was lovely, but this is something else altogether. 

Immediately upon your entrance, Taehyun already sees heads turning your way. Jealousy flares in his chest, but pride stamps it out—he’s the one who walked you into the room, after all, and you’re the one who said no one else was much competition compared to him. 

That doesn’t mean he’s going to let down his guard, though. 

He turns to you and your glittering ensemble, candlelight almost glowing around your figure. “Before we are surely interrupted again,” he says, smiling wryly, “may I have your first dance, my lady?”

You place your hand in his with a grin. “Of course, my lord.”

Taehyun loves dancing with you. You’re easily one of the best dancers in the ton, not even just among the season’s debutantes. For obvious reasons, you have a wonderful sense of rhythm and melody, and you clearly lean into that sort of sixth sense as you play with the timing of the choreographed steps and the unique twists of the music. You twirl under his hand, returning to his arms with a bright smile, and Taehyun is suddenly reminded of a flower opening its petals under the sun. 

Too soon, the music ends, and with it ends the magic of the dance you shared. Glancing at those who have gathered at the edge of the ballroom, Taehyun feels the jealousy flare again. How free he would feel if he could dance with you all night without worry of what the ton would think! But Taehyun has had the rules of society drummed into his head since he was old enough to comprehend language, and he knows he cannot share more than one dance with you in a row without stirring rumors of impropriety. So when you curtsy, he only bows, kissing your hand once more. 

“You are a wonderful dancer, my lady,” he compliments. The orchestra is in a lull now, waiting for dancers to find new partners, and everything he says will be clear to those who stand around him, so he chooses his next words carefully. Dancing with the same person twice means announcing a serious intention to court them to the entire ton, carrying more weight than even repeated weekly calls, but… “If you would be so inclined, I would be deeply honored if I could take one of your dances later this evening, as well.”

Your mouth parts. A strange, but not unwelcome expression passes over your face. He’d given his request quietly in case you refused, but a smile grows on your lips as you nod once, slowly, then again with more conviction. “I should like that very much,” you say, extending your dance card to him. 

Taehyun smiles broadly as he takes the small card. “Would it be all right if we danced the quadrille?” he asks. 

Your eyes sparkle. “Did someone tell you that was my favorite dance?”

He shakes his head in surprise. “A lucky guess.”

“Truly.” You smile, though it drops a little when you glance behind him at the crowd that has surely only grown larger since the last dance ended. “I will wait patiently for our quadrille, then, my lord.”

Taehyun gives you what he hopes is a comforting smile. “I will be counting the dances until then.”

. . . 

Unfortunately, Taehyun somewhat loses track of the dances somewhere along the way, mostly because he is also dealing with a consistently large group of people who insist on corralling him every time he so much as steps away from the dance floor. 

By a group of people, he really just means a group of debutantes and their mothers. They just…follow him. It’s a bit creepy. And when one disappears, another appears to take her place, so the group just never seems to fade away. Yeonjun was here earlier to help divert some of the attention but at some point he left to spend some time with his wife, which Taehyun can hardly fault him for. 

Taehyun is at his wit’s end by the time he finds himself near the table of drinks. He adopts a very concentrated look on his face—far more than is necessary when examining an array of lemonade and alcohol—but it seems to discourage some of the shyer girls, who start to hang back a little. 

He feels a little bad. It’s not like this is their fault, and if he wasn’t so damn tired, he wouldn’t mind engaging them in conversation either. But Taehyun has been dancing half the night and talking for the other half, and about topics he genuinely does not care about, so he takes his time selecting a whiskey before turning around, internally bracing himself for the onslaught. 

The onslaught comes in the form of a Mrs. Lim, here to present her first daughter, and a Mrs. Jung, with her second daughter. Taehyun smiles as best he can through brittle teeth and tries not to be too curt with his replies, but then other women start showing up to introduce and re-introduce their daughters and even when Taehyun says that he has already promised most of his dances away, they still won’t leave. He’s at his wits’ end, the glass in his hand now empty, when the group before him parts for a familiar face that fills him with relief. 

“Excuse me,” you murmur, edging politely past Mrs. Jung to stand in front of him. Instantly Taehyun feels himself begin to relax—he hadn’t realized he was so tense until you showed up. “My lord, the quadrille is next.” You look at him steadily even as the group breaks into whispers—Did he not take her first dance? Will they dance twice? What does this mean?“I believe I promised this dance to you, if you would still like to take it.”

Taehyun nearly sags with relief. “I should like nothing more,” he says, extending a hand. “Apologies, ladies, I must go.” He bows slightly, then heads off to the dance floor without a second glance back. 

“I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything important,” you say lowly, turning to face him. 

“Not at all,” Taehyun replies, leading you into frame. “In fact, your interruption was…most welcome.”

A wry twinkle appears in your eye. “It seemed so, though I didn’t want to presume.”

Taehyun laughs. “I thank you, then, for your opportune timing.”

“There is no need for thanks.” You smile. “You saved me at the Bridgertons’ ball after the queen crowned me her diamond.” Your smile grows smaller, though no less sincere. “I didn’t have the chance to thank you for that.”

The orchestra picks up, signaling the end of the dance’s introduction, but Taehyun only looks at you carefully. “Forgive me for assuming,” he says quietly, “but my lady, you don’t seem to want the title much at all.”

You bite your lip even as you begin to move, instinctively stepping to the music. “It is an honor,” you reply lowly. “I will never be ungrateful for the queen’s approval. But I must confess…I wish she had chosen someone else instead.” You try to smile, but even Taehyun can see that it’s forced. “I am a quiet person, my lord. I never really wanted the attention that would come with being the season’s diamond. I believe others are far more suited to the role than I.”

Sympathy wells in Taehyun’s heart. No matter how tense he felt around the mamas and their daughters, he can’t imagine how this has all been for you. Granted, you have your aunt to field some of the gentlemen who come to you, but she seems more preoccupied with attracting more of them than shielding you from the onslaught. “I’m sorry,” he says simply, because he doesn’t know quite what else to say other than I understand, which would probably seem disingenuous. 

You seem to hear the words left unsaid, though, because you give him a little smile when you find your way back into his arms. “It is what it is,” you state bravely. “And, at the very least, I can look forward to dancing with you.”

Taehyun’s heart stutters a beat, though you don’t seem to notice it. “Believe me, Miss L/N, I look forward to it at least as much as you,” he says when he finds his voice again. 

In the last measures of the quadrille, you smile at each other softly. You curtsy, and Taehyun bows, and in a last stroke of desperation to keep you with him a little longer, he extends his arm again. “Would you like some refreshment?” he offers. “You have been dancing all night. Surely you must be parched.”

You open your mouth, about to respond. But then your eye catches on something behind him and your face grows still, a smile curving your lips that doesn’t reach your eyes. Taehyun turns to see the queen approaching the two of you, an elegantly dressed gentleman following closely behind her. 

“Your Majesty,” the two of you murmur at the same time. The queen gives Taehyun a perfunctory little smile before directing her attention to you. “Miss L/N,” she says warmly, gesturing for the other man to come forward. “My diamond. Allow me to introduce to you Marquess Yang. Marquess Yang, meet my incomparable of the season.”

Objectively, there’s nothing wrong with the marquess. He’s handsome and seems pleasant enough as he introduces himself and kisses your hand. Still, Taehyun’s heart flares with jealous dislike for the man, but there’s nothing he can do about it. At least, nothing that wouldn’t be improper. 

“Pleased to meet you,” you say, giving the marquess a quick curtsy. You turn to Taehyun, then, and there’s only resignation in your unsmiling eyes. “Forgive me, my lord.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” he replies quickly, returning a short bow. “Perhaps we will catch each other later tonight, my lady.” He kisses your hand, holding your fingers for a touch longer than is strictly necessary. “Have a good evening.” 

With a bow to the queen and a parting smile to the marquess that he doesn’t mean at all, Taehyun heads back into the crowd, knowing that despite his words, he probably won’t get another moment with you all night.

. . . . .

When calling hour ends, you turn to your governess and say in a very quiet voice, “I will be ill tomorrow.”

She blinks once. Twice. “But, my lady—”

“I don’t care what my aunt says,” you state very, very calmly. “Or what my father says. I will be ill. Too ill to get out of bed.”

She glances at your aunt at the other side of the room, ordering rearrangements of some certain bouquets of flowers on the mantel. Then she nods. “As you wish, my lady.”

You breathe a long sigh of relief and stand up. “Thank you.”

No one says anything or tries to stop you when you leave the drawing room and make your way to your bedroom. You sit heavily on your bed and fall onto your back, staring at the ceiling but not really seeing anything. Your head hurts from calling hour and you can’t really process anything between the pounding of your temples. 

Another steady stream of callers came today, all with their colorful flowers and pretty words. Lord Kang wasn’t among them, not even those who were unable to see you before they had to leave and left their cards for you to peruse instead. You can’t blame him—no one calls every day, and you would never expect him to even if you perceive there is interest on his end—but the irrational part of you mumbles that you still would have liked to see him anyway. The flowers he left last week have dried so the servants removed them from your bedside, but you’ve kept his card hidden in one of the drawers of your nightstand. It might sound pathetic, but you’ve taken to tracing his careful handwriting on the creamy paper. It soothes you. Somewhat. 

You’re just so—tired. Of everything. Of the charade of being a debutante, of the title of diamond, of having to sit and be pretty and nod along to all of the men who suddenly see worth in you not for yourself but for the queen’s belated approval. They talk about their plans for the future like you are a guarantee in their lives, a guaranteed little mannequin who will stand there and agree with every decision they make, and worst of all, they’re not even good conversationalists. You’re the first to admit that you aren’t very good at conversing with near strangers, but one of them asked you what makes you tick today. 

What does that even mean?

The Marquess of Schannon, whom the queen introduced to you at the last ball, paid you a call today too. He is not a bad person. In fact, of all those you spoke to, he was the most pleasant. If you hadn’t met Lord Kang, you might have been interested in him—he was very polite, respectful, and seemed genuinely interested in your passion for music. Your conversation with him was pleasant and he didn’t further your headache, and the flowers he brought were very pretty.

But all the while you were speaking with him, you couldn’t help but compare him to Lord Kang. 

Which isn’t fair. You know you should shape your opinion on the marquess independently from anyone else. It’s just—every good thing you thought about the marquess, Lord Kang was either equal, or did it better. 

Speaking with Marquess Yang was pleasant. Speaking with Lord Kang brings you excitement. 

Marquess Yang respects your devotion to the piano. Lord Kang respects your devotion, and engages you in conversation about the topic. 

The marquess is a fine dancer. The quadrille you danced with Lord Kang was the best one you have ever danced yet. 

You breathe out a sigh. The queen means to matchmake you with the marquess, you’re sure. Lady Arina Park said about as much when she caught you at the queen’s ball, though she also cast a very knowing glance at Lord Kang, who was dancing with Mrs. Jung’s daughter. At the end of the conversation, as she turned away, you could have sworn she muttered something along the lines of not meddling in affairs of the heart, but over the low din of the party, you couldn’t be sure. 

On paper, the marquess might be a better match than Lord Kang. A higher title. More land. More riches. But even knowing this, even knowing that the queen approves, you can’t quite bring yourself to see him the way you see Lord Kang.

Affairs of the heart, indeed. You stare at a knot of wood in the ceiling without really seeing it. You’re not sure you love Lord Kang. You’re not sure he loves you either. But you certainly like him, and you don’t think you’re wallowing in delusion when you fancy he likes you as well. You’ve only known each other for a couple of months—you don’t think anyone could truly fall in love so soon, no matter what people say about love matches. But with Lord Kang, at least you can envision the love further along in the future. 

There isn’t even a chance of that with some of your other suitors. 

You squeeze your eyes shut. For all you love piano, you wish you hadn’t been playing the night the queen walked in on your performance. You would still have to sit through calling hour, would still have to make small talk in the ballroom, but it wouldn’t be nearly as much as it is now. Your aunt and father’s approval doesn’t make up for how much your head hurts after you return from social engagements every night. 

And you’d probably get to see Lord Kang more. 

You remember the queen’s ball, when Lord Kang asked if you’d like to get refreshment with him just before the queen introduced you to the marquess. If he’d asked a moment earlier, you wonder if you’d have managed to escape the queen’s notice and been able to spend just a few minutes more with him. Probably not—the queen has eyes like a hawk and would have caught you anyway. Still, though, you wonder. And a treacherous part of you likes to imagine what would have happened if the queen wasn’t there. If you and Lord Kang could have found yourselves by the tables of refreshments, laughing and talking with no one to take either of you away. 

Unlikely. But you wish for it all the same. 

A knock sounds at your door. You bolt upright and wince when your temples twinge in protest. It’s only one of the servants, though. 

“My lady.” She curtsies slightly. “Your aunt bids that the two of you leave soon for your appointment at the modiste.”

Ugh. You’d almost forgotten about that. You give her a tired nod. “Tell her I will be ready shortly.”

. . .

Dresses are nice. Clothes are nice. You don’t mind the modiste, not with its arrays of silks and satins and ribbons that dazzle the eye, not with how nice and how accommodating Madame Delacroix is to everyone in her shop. But today you’re tired and just want to be lying down at home, and you could very much do without your aunt hovering around your fittings and inserting her opinion every time Madame Delacroix so much as moves a pin. 

There are a number of other ladies and their mothers in the shop so you let your mind fade into their buzz of chatter and laughter. A few of the voices you recognize—Mrs. Jung and her shy second daughter looking for new ribbons, the soon-to-be Lady Julia Kingsley shopping for the fabric for her wedding gown—but even though the girls are nice you hope they don’t notice you’re there as you slip out of your nearly-finished gowns as quietly as you can. On any other day you would be happy to chat with them. Right now you just want to go home. 

But someone calls your name as you’re exiting the modiste. You have just enough sense not to curse out loud because your aunt is right next to you and you’re in public, but you’re not sure you manage to wipe the entire grimace off your face before you turn around. You pray that surprise replaced your previous expression before your caller saw it, and it seems it did, because the Duchess of Hastings only gives you a bright smile before walking quickly over to catch up with you. 

“Miss L/N!” she exclaims once she’s close enough. “Lady Taylor,” she then greets your aunt, with much more solemnity. “It is lovely to see the two of you in town today.”

“And you too,” you reply, and you’re only half lying. You’ve seen the duchess a few times since that first gathering, and each time you speak you leave the conversation smiling. If you were to have to speak to anyone at the tail end of this very exhausting day, you’re glad it was her. “Did you have business here? We just left the modiste.”

“Oh, His Grace and I came into town to meet with his solicitor for a few things,” she says. “I didn’t feel I was needed for the last few meetings, so I thought I would walk the streets for some time before meeting him at home.” You reach Gunter’s dessert shop and the duchess stops. “Shall we stop for some ices? They can be most refreshing after a long day.”

As the duchess leads you into the shop, you think wryly that you probably weren’t hiding your exhaustion as well as you thought. 

She’s right. Sitting in the shop with a small cup of dessert, flavored ice cooling your tongue, you feel a bit of the pressure easing away from your temples. If the duchess notices you relaxing, she doesn’t say anything of it—at least until she asks about your season, and if anyone has caught your eye just yet. She has a strange, somewhat knowing expression on her face, but you try to pay it no mind as you answer. 

“The dancing is nice,” you say truthfully, but meaningfully. 

The duchess snickers in a way that is distinctly unladylike but even though you can see your aunt’s face scrunching up in the corner, that snicker allows you to smile. “Is anything else about it nice?” she asks.

You pause before answering with a question. “You were the diamond of your season, were you not?” She nods. “How did you find it, may I ask?”

“I enjoyed it,” she replies, and your heart sinks. “I quite like meeting new people, and it is a great honor to be chosen by the queen. Though it perhaps made a difference that there wasn’t anybody…meddling, I suppose, in my options for marriage.” 

You blink. “The queen did not seek to introduce you to anybody?”

She shakes her head. “I was already being courted by one of the most eligible bachelors of the ton, not even the season. I don’t suppose Her Majesty found it her prerogative to try and find me someone else.”

Annoyance and anger, not at the duchess, but at the queen herself, rises in your throat so quickly it surprises you. Where did this come from? You stare into the melting remains of your ice, its syrup suddenly cloyingly sweet on your tongue. The duchess said the queen didn’t find it her prerogative to interfere in her courtship. So why does she find it necessary for you?

Because she doesn’t think Lord Kang is good enough. 

Ah. There it is. The anger—the annoyance that the queen would deem Lord Kang, one of the best men you’ve met this entire season, unworthy of you. That she would not trust you to make the decision on your own, and must prod you in different directions like a doll in her playhouse. Quite like your father and aunt. Quite like the other men who have been calling on you these past few weeks. 

You’re so damn tired of people thinking they know best for you. 

“I don’t think I should have been the diamond,” you say quietly, so that only the duchess hears you. “Not for my talent or hard work. The thing is, I’m a quiet person, Your Grace. I am not really a sociable person. I am not very good at conversing. I just don’t…enjoy the social season the way other people do.” You look up from your ice to see the duchess gazing back at you thoughtfully. “Many of the other ladies of the season are as talented and hardworking as I, only in other spheres, and would likely be far more receptive than I to the…maneuverings, if you will, of our queen.”

The duchess remains silent. 

You start to panic. “I do not mean that I am ungrateful for Her Majesty’s approval. It is an honor. I only—”

“Miss L/N. Y/N.” The duchess takes your hands across the table. “May I call you that?”

Dumbly, you nod. 

“Excellent. You must call me by my name, then.” She smiles and your heart, which had been beating a little too fast, starts to slow down. “As friends.”

Slowly you nod again. 

“The season is not enjoyable for everyone,” she states. “You are none the worse for feeling that way. I had moments in my season that I did not like. And I can fully understand how, for someone of a more introverted nature, it might be more of a chore than is usually expected.” She leans a little over the table, still holding your hands. “But I will say this to you. You are the diamond, Y/N. And while this means people are watching you, it also means that you have some measure of freedom to act as you like. Refuse dances from those with whom you don’t wish to dance. Only accept as many dances as you need. And if you can, try to ignore those who would meddle in your affairs for their own gain. You are the diamond. You can afford to do these things more than others can.” The duchess squeezes your hands. “You know yourself better than anyone, your wants and desires. You should be in control of those. No one else.”

Stupidly, you feel tears welling up in your eyes. You blink them away as much as you can. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“Oh, come now.” The duchess laughs. “Call me by my name. We are friends, are we not?”

You give her a watery smile in return. “Yes, we are.” Taking a shaky breath, you brush away a tear as discreetly as you can. “Thank you. I’m not the most upfront person, even with myself. I…I needed that.”

“You’re most welcome,” she replies warmly. “If I may I ask…”

You blink. “Yes?”

“You have someone in mind, don’t you?”

Your cheeks suddenly feel hot. “…Yes.”

“Is it Lord Kang?”

Now you think you understand the knowing look the duchess had in her eye earlier. “How long have you known?”

“Known? Only since now.” Her eyes crinkle with teasing mischief. “But I suspected as much at my gathering. You two were so engrossed in conversation, I couldn’t help but notice.” Oblivious to your embarrassment, she continues. “And if I remember correctly, he danced with you twice at the queen’s ball, no?”

“He did.” And a wonderful two dances those were.

The duchess eyes you like she can hear your thoughts. Honestly, she very well might—she’s incredibly perceptive. “He’s a good man, Y/N. A very good one.” She pauses a moment, as though weighing her next words. “I was not the most receptive to him, not at first.” Her smile turns a little painful as she looks into cup. “My father died very suddenly and without an heir. When I found out the estate was to pass to Lord Kang—someone I had never known, inheriting the only home I had ever known—to be frank, I was very angry.” She shakes her head. “My whole life was in that estate. My best memories were there, in my father’s library.” 

You listen, rapt. 

“But Lord Kang is a kind man. He was a kind man even when I was angry with him, unjustifiably. After all, he was as confused and bewildered by the entire situation as I was. But when he learned of my love for literature, and my sorrow at having lost my father’s library to the estate he now owns, he offered me free use of the library. We send books back and forth now, and he takes my recommendations just as I take his.” The duchess raises her head, and the smile on her lips seems to bring joy to the entire shop. “He is a very good friend, and I think he would be very good with you.”

Your throat feels too tight to speak. “Thank you,” is all you manage to say in reply. 

“Of course.” She motions to your empty cups. “Shall we have these taken away?”

A worker whisks away your empty cups, and after you pay for your treats, the duchess walks you outside. Once on the street, she takes your hands again and smiles. “Be brave, Y/N,” she says, looking at you with such sincerity you almost want to cry again. “You deserve good things. But you must come to take them for yourself.”

. . . . .

Yeonjun has just poured everyone a drink when the duchess comes sweeping in with the wind, full of apologies for being late. “I deeply apologize,” she says again, kissing Yeonjun lightly on the cheek before sitting next to him. “I hope Yeonjun hasn’t already bored you all to death.”

Everyone except Yeonjun laughs, Beomgyu’s cackle the loudest of all. Taehyun smiles over his drink as the duke pouts deeply, regaining his smile only when his wife whispers something in his ear. “Is everything all right?” he asks as the laughter subsides. “You didn’t have any trouble in town, did you?”

“Oh, no.” She shakes her head. “I just ran into someone and we spent a little too long catching up, I suppose.” The duchess looks at Taehyun meaningfully, and he only has a second to wonder why before she continues. “Miss L/N was just leaving the modiste, and we went to Gunter’s for ices after. I lost track of time.”

Miss L/N?

“You look remarkably unruffled for one who is so late,” Beomgyu points out, and Taehyun forces all thoughts of you out of his brain to focus on the conversation. 

“Perhaps because I knew you would be here,” she shoots back, which sends everyone into laughter again. “Anyhow, I’m sure you all are curious as to why Yeonjun and I invited you here today.”

“You’re making me nervous,” Kai mutters.

Yeonjun laughs, though there’s a strange edge to it. Taehyun can’t quite tell if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. “Well…” he starts, then turns to his wife. “Do you want to say it?” he murmurs. 

“I can.” She takes a deep breath before a glowing smile spreads across her lips. “I am with child.”

For a moment, the room remains dead silent. Taehyun himself can hardly believe his ears. Then he’s grinning, and so is everyone else, and the silence explodes into cheers and cries of congratulations and he’s hugging first the duke, then the duchess, and in this moment, the whole world feels perfect. Nothing could be better right now—nothing could beat the happiness he feels right now for his two good friends. 

“Congratulations,” Taehyun says again when the celebration has died down. His voice feels thick—he can hardly speak through the emotion filling his throat. “How long have you two known?”

“The doctor confirmed last week,” Yeonjun says, smiling down at his wife with so much love in his eyes it almost hurts. “We told our mothers the day after.”

“Well, now I know why you only invited us tonight,” Lady Choi says, her eyes sparkling. Next to her, her husband, Soobin, can’t seem to keep his own grin off his face. “You don’t want the entire ton knowing too soon, do you?”

“Not just yet.” The duchess shakes her head. “We plan to keep it out of Whistledown for some time.”

Several more rounds of congratulations follow, and by then they’ve all finished their drinks and are heading into the dining room. It’s a small group—just him, Yeonjun, Beomgyu, Kai, Soobin, and their wives—so they don’t observe the usual formalities, just sit down around the table laughing and chatting as one. The meal is filled with so much gaiety that he nearly forgets the duchess’s strange look earlier just before she mentioned your name. But as the dinner winds to a close, he remembers, and he can’t help but wonder what you and the duchess talked about. He won’t ask, of course, and he doesn’t even know if you talked about him, but the irrational part of him wants to know anyway.

Finally, after the meal, they all retire to the drawing room, where Lady Choi starts telling a story about Soobin that has his face turning red and the rest of them laughing. Partway through, Taehyun goes to pour himself a drink, only to look up and see the duchess standing next to him. 

He motions to the bottle. “Would you like a drink?” Then he remembers. “Oh, I don’t suppose you would.”

She smiles. “Not alcohol, though I would not say no to the lemonade. Thank you.” While a chorus of laughter sounds in the background, she and Taehyun raise their glasses with a smile. She takes a sip, then looks at him directly. “I saw Miss L/N earlier, you know.”

His heart, cliché as it sounds, skips a beat. “You mentioned, yes.”

For a moment, the duchess remains silent, her lips pursed as though contemplating her next words carefully. “Can we be honest, Taehyun?” she finally asks. 

He blinks. “Of course.”

“Is there a reason you haven’t proposed to her yet?”

Taehyun almost chokes on his drink. “What—” 

“I’m not trying to interrogate you,” the duchess says wryly. “Don’t look so frightened.”

“I’m not frightened.” Taehyun clears his throat, praying he doesn’t look too embarrassed. “But…why do you ask?”

“The season is almost halfway over,” she states matter-of-factly. “She is the diamond, and she clearly likes you. You danced with her twice at the queen’s ball, which is tantamount to declaring your intentions to the entire ton. What, now, is stopping you from asking for her hand?”

He opens his mouth. Closes it. He can already feel an excuse on the tip of his tongue—it has still only been three months, I’m not sure how she feels, I don’t know if she even wants me—but those would all be lies. Distractions, at least, from the full truth. The duchess bade him to be honest, and he won’t disrespect her by acting otherwise. 

“She is a quiet woman,” he says slowly. “And I do not want to come onto her too strongly. I know that people have married in less time than we’ve known each other, but while we get along very well, I suppose I wanted to…make certain that she would do well with me, and that I would do well with her, should we be married.”

The duchess nods slowly. “I understand this,” she says, “but you are a man who knows what he wants, and when you want something, you seek it out.” She pauses. “Why do you wait so long to seek her?”

His first response is I do. But even though that is true, over the past weeks… “The queen does not approve of me.” He says this with certainty, a bitter taste filling his mouth. “You must know this. She believes her diamond to be fit for a marquess, not an earl like I. And, truth be told…” Taehyun sighs. “I would like to at least allow her to make the decision. The Marquess of Schannon has a higher title, owns more land and has much greater wealth than I. He could provide for her much better than I.”

“But you are not the one who should make that decision for her.”

Taehyun gapes at the duchess’s sharp tone. Her eyes soften, but her voice remains as steady as before. “My marriage to Yeonjun did not thrive only because he could provide for me,” she says quietly. “It became what it is now because we got along, because we could laugh with and at one another, because we can be free with each other. I do not think that Miss L/N is the type of woman to value wealth and security over her own freedom, and I implore you not to dishonor her by thinking otherwise.”

“Of course not!” Taehyun snaps. “I just…” He swallows, and his entire throat tastes bitter. “I want to be enough for her.”

“I understand.” The duchess smiles. “You want to be the best man to her that you can be. But trust me when I say that your worth in her life—or in anyone’s life—is not defined by the gold you bring to the table. You and your character are what she will fall in love with. Not your money.”

Taehyun’s cheeks burn.

From the twinkle in the duchess’s eye, she definitely notices, but thankfully she says nothing of it. “Talk to her, Taehyun,” she says softly. “I think you will find she likes you far more than even you expect.”

. . . . .

When you wake up the next morning, you don’t bother to stifle a groan when you remember you’re to be entertaining callers again today. Then you remember that your governess is supposed to tell your aunt that you are horrifically ill, and your earlier dread quickly turns into relief as you pull your covers over your head again, rumpling your sheets and pillows. Your aunt will probably poke into your room to check if you’re actually ill, and you need to look the part. 

The servants come to dress you for the day. When they can’t get you to roll out of bed, they send for your governess, who gives you a rather anxious look before calling for your aunt, as you expected. You hear them coming back to your room together, just as you expected, but perhaps the prospect of speaking to near-strangers for an entire afternoon has you looking grimmer than you thought because she backs out of the room rather quickly without much need for explanation. 

Under your covers, you breathe a sigh of relief. Yesterday, the duchess said to be brave, and not force yourself to endure or take anything you don’t want. You plan to take her up on her advice, but not now. Being brave can wait another day. 

You spend the morning in a blissful haze, drifting in and out of sleep without anyone coming to bother you. Your governess comes in for a moment to tell you all your engagements for the day have been cancelled, which puts you in an even better mood. The day is marred somewhat by the arrival of a truly vile-looking tonic from the cook along with your lunch that she swears will have you feeling better in no time, but you manage to dump it out of your window before the servants return to take your tray away. You settle back into bed with one of the books Taehyun lent you and happily resign yourself to a quiet, uninterrupted afternoon. 

A few hours later, rapid footsteps sound in the hall just outside your room and you quickly put the book away, sliding under your covers and shutting your eyes. Several frantic knocks sound at your door. You wait a moment before groaning, “Come in.”

Maybe you should’ve taken up a career in acting instead of music. 

To your relief, it’s only your governess, who looks oddly excited. You push yourself up in bed with a questioning frown. “What is it?” Then you see she’s holding something, too. “What is that?”

She hands you a card, then places a lovely bouquet of flowers on your nightstand. “Read it,” she says, but your eyes have already latched onto the name etched elegantly into the center of the calling card, and the familiar handwriting on the back. 

Miss L/N—

I apologize for having to write this simple card instead of calling on you in person—I have had sudden business to take care of that kept me busy all of calling hour, or I would have come earlier. In the absence of being able to speak today, I wonder if you would promenade with me in Hyde Park tomorrow? I should like to see you again, and I have some things I would like to ask you, if I may. 

And then, an addendum in a script considerably messier than the rest, indicating some haste with which it was written—

Your governess has just informed me that you are ill. If you are still feeling ill tomorrow, please do not feel obligated to join me—we will simply find another time and place, should you be willing. Do feel better soon, my lady. I pray for your rapid recovery.

You look at your governess. “I will be recovered tomorrow,” you say, trying and failing to hide your growing smile. “In the morning, please send a note to Lord Kang informing him of my intention to join him at the park.”

Your governess smiles back, just as brightly. “As you wish, my lady.”

. . . . .

The afternoon is lovely, the sun golden and warm and only a few clouds drifting lazily across the sky, but everything seems to become a little brighter when Taehyun catches your eye across the park. He speeds up his steps, trying to rein in his own smile as he walks up to you over the green. “Miss L/N,” he greets, holding out his arm. “How are you? I hope you are not still feeling ill.”

“Not at all, thankfully.” You smile with all the warmth of the sun. “I can’t imagine what overtook me yesterday, but I am feeling much better today. In any case, it is good to see you too.” 

The two of you make small chatter as you start on the winding path around the park. Many people are out today, and between you, the sunlight, and their infectious cheer, Taehyun stops trying to rein in his smile and just lets it spread wide across his lips. When you reach a small grove of trees, though, you turn to him with a somewhat more serious expression upon your face. “In your note, you mentioned you had some things about which you wanted to discuss with me, my lord,” you say. “Might I ask what you wanted to say?”

“And if I just wanted to speak to you again after not having seen you for a good number of days?” he teases, heart melting with fondness when you turn away, clearly shy. “I jest, though it is true that I very much wanted to see you,” he continues more seriously. “I suppose I wanted to...” He swallows, then just decides to say it before he gets too scared to. “What are your thoughts on marriage?”

For a long moment, you don’t reply. For all Taehyun tries not to show his anxiety he’s not too certain he’s succeeding, especially when you look back at him. “To anyone?” you finally ask. 

The forthrightness of your question stuns him for a moment. In the time he’s known you, you’ve always been quiet, somewhat shy—he would not have expected such a question from you. But then he remembers you are also honest and very much in control of your own mind, and suddenly the question is not so surprising. 

You are honest with him. Taehyun will not disrespect you with a dishonest response. “To anyone,” he says truthfully, heart pounding. “But I would not mind a response specific to me.”

Your little laugh settles some of the anxiety threatening to burst from his chest. “To you, I would view marriage quite favorably.” You smile, and between your words and the light dappling through the trees onto your face and figure, Taehyun has to catch his breath. “Though to anyone else, the answer would be the opposite.”

Relief threatens to choke up his throat before he can reply. He truly hadn’t realized he was so nervous until you answered him favorably. “Might I ask why?” he asks quietly. 

You look up at the trees, at the sunlight peeking through the leaves. “When I returned to London, I didn’t know if I wanted to marry. I spent so long abroad, alone with only the piano as any real constant in my life, and the way everyone spoke of marriage, it seemed like it was a given that I should give up my passion for music in exchange for the hand of someone I didn’t even know yet.” Your lips turn up in a wry little smile. “I considered just trying to reach the age of a spinster, you know. In that case my father might send me back to the continent, and without the pressure of being a young lady of marriageable age, I might earn some money performing again, and at least I might see my dowry then.”

Taehyun frowns. “Your dowry?”

Your expression twists somewhat bitterly. “My father took my performance earnings for my dowry.”

“That…” Taehyun shakes his head, at a loss for words. “You earned that income yourself, so it should be yours, no?”

“That is what I thought as well,” you reply, your dry tone hardly managing to disguise the annoyance of your words. “So you see, then, why I did not quite view marriage through a favorable lens at first.”

Taehyun swallows. “What made you change your mind?”

You take a deep breath. “Not much, at first,” you say lowly. “I wanted respect in marriage. It does not seem like it should be such a difficult thing for which to ask. But as I went through the season, I realized…apparently it is quite a task.” You shake your head. “There were so many with whom I spoke—so many who had already planned a future out for them and their unknown wives. It was so strange. They would just talk at me, saying all these things, and never even asked what I wanted.” 

Inwardly, Taehyun feels a little sick. He knows many of the young men in the ton, and likely some of them are included in those who spoke to you this way. The season is difficult for debutantes—that’s no secret—but even though he knows that…he didn’t really. Not until you just said it out loud. To be dehumanized in this way, and spoken to like an object. “I’m sorry,” he says lamely. 

“Don’t apologize.” You wave his words away. “You are one of the few who never condescended to me in such a fashion, you have nothing to apologize for.” You look up at him with a small smile. It eases some of his guilt. “I also do not doubt I wasn’t a stunning conversationalist, given that I do not quite enjoy speaking with strangers, though I will not take all the blame for that. I mean, I was once asked what makes me tick.” You laugh helplessly. “I don’t even know what that means.” 

Taehyun makes a face. Tick? “I don’t either.” 

“The season is what it is.” You’ve reached the edge of the trees, stepping back into the full sunshine. “I gather that all the men and women are used to this sort of thing. And, well—perhaps if I had been raised to believe I would one day command an entire estate and everyone in it, I might think the same way as many of those who wished to ask for my suit. Most of them weren’t unkind, after all.” You cast your eyes downward, fidgeting with your dress. “Just…”

“You give them too much credit,” Taehyun says quietly. “None of the things you’ve mentioned would give anyone the privilege not to extend respect to others.”

You nod slightly, still looking down. “I think,” you finally say, “from the beginning, I decided that if I was to marry anyone, I would need my own freedom to play the piano, and in general to have my own passions. I will not give up music for anything, my lord. It has kept me sane all these years. My cousins will tease that I am married to the piano and while it is an overwrought joke, there is some truth to it.” You look up again, meeting his eyes directly. “Very few people have truly respected my passions for what they are to me. In marriage, I will not bring yet another person into my life to clip my wings.”

Taehyun considers his next words carefully. “If you were guaranteed your freedom, then, would you still marry someone?”

“Yes,” you reply immediately. “Because if that person would guarantee my freedom, I would know that they cared for me enough that they wouldn’t clip my wings in a way that would hurt me.”

For a few moments the two of you walk in silence. You’ve been at the park for some time, now—the sun is beginning to sink a little lower, the edges of the sky fading from blue to a pale pink. Taehyun looks at you and, against his will, doubt wells in his chest. He respects you, respects you so much—as a musician, as a woman, as a person who has come into his life and for whom he’s grown to care very much. But will that be enough? You deserve only the best of the things in the world. While well-off, Taehyun isn’t the wealthiest in town. Others, materially, could provide for you better. Could give you all the lovely things you deserve. 

But you are not the one who should make that decision for her.

The voice of the duchess rings through Taehyun’s mind and he swallows hard. Right. He will not cut his own suit short for fear that he may not be enough. If you have seen something in him to love, all he can do is strive every day to provide you with happiness. 

It is the least you deserve.

“I plan to call on your father in the next few days,” he says quietly. “To ask for his permission to propose to you.” Out of the corner of his eye you turn to look at him, and even though his heart is beating faster than it ever has before, he forces himself to meet your gaze. “Would you be amenable—”

“Yes!” The word bursts from your lips, cutting off his question. You look supremely embarrassed for a moment and Taehyun can’t hide his own smile at your adorable expression, but you don’t back down. “Yes, Lord Kang,” you repeat, considerably more calmly. “I would be.”

Taehyun takes a deep breath and tries not to show all the butterflies fluttering about in his own stomach. “Thank goodness,” he says, praying his voice isn’t trembling. He laughs a little. “You don’t know how nervous I was to ask that.”

Your eyes crinkle into a smile brighter than the setting sun. “You did a wonderful job of hiding it.”

Taehyun doesn’t really know how he gets through the rest of your walk. He says many things and so do you, but by the time the sun has finally sunk too low to ignore and you’ve circled the park at least three times, his mind is still just a blur of she said yes she said yes she said yes. “I will leave you here tonight, my lady,” he says when it comes time to part ways. “I do hope I will see you soon.”

“You will,” you reply. And as Taehyun is parsing your bold response, in full view of the ton, you take a deep breath of your own, looking him straight in the eye with a little smile. “After all, my lord, you must still call on me so that I might return your books, no?”

Half of the ton looks at you. Half of the ton looks at him. Taehyun himself has to take a moment to grapple with the implications of your deceptively innocent question—the public declaration that you have seen each other often enough to speak like this, that you have exchanged gifts beyond the typical flowers and jewels, that you are close enough to demand that he come to see you and not the other way around. 

That he has not just chosen to court him, but that you have chosen him as your suitor, as well.

All of this has his head spinning though not necessarily in a bad way, and throughout all this your eyes have remained steadily on his, twinkling in the remnants of sunlight. Taehyun’s cheeks are warm with the attention but, he decides, two can play this game. “Taehyun,” he says, smiling when you cock your head in confusion. “If I am to see you again, you must call me by my name. Not ‘my lord.’ Not ‘Lord Kang.’” He takes your hand. “Taehyun.”

You look down at your joined hands, then up at him. And in that moment, with the pink light of sunset glowing around your figure and the shy smile curving your lips as comprehension dawns on your face, Taehyun really wants to kiss you. He abstains because kissing in full view of the ton when you’re not even married is probably a step too far for both of you, but nonetheless, he still wishes. “Taehyun,” he murmurs. “None of the ‘my lord’ nonsense.”

Your laugh carries on the wind, a warm, sweet melody to his ears. “If you are Taehyun, then I am Y/N.” Your eyes sparkle, either oblivious or far too discerning as to how much he enjoyed hearing his name from your lips. “A fair trade, no?”

“Very fair, Miss—” He catches himself, smiling. “Y/N.” Lifting your hand to his lips, he kisses it softly, just as he always has before. “Take care, Y/N. I will see you soon.”

. . . . .

The next morning, you’re at your piano, squinting at a new piece of music when a knock sounds at the door. “Come in,” you say absently, still eyeing the difficult passage your fingers just can’t seem to get right.

“Miss L/N.” One of the servants steps in. “Your father would like to see you.”

Your hand freezes in the air. “My father?”

The servant leads you down the halls in silence, leaving your mind to wonder about all manner of things that your father could have called you for. He rarely summons you for—well, anything. Most of the time you barely catch a glimpse of him before the day is over. The only thing you can think of is Lord Kang—Taehyun— coming to propose his suit, and he said that he would come in the next few days, not—

You come to a stop in front of your father’s office, eyes wide. Would he truly have come so soon?

The servant knocks for you. When your father’s voice bids you come in, you’re still rattled enough by the thought that it takes you a moment to step through the door. 

You curtsy, if a little lamely. “Father.”

“Y/N.” He gestures to the seat in front of his desk. “Sit down.”

You sit. 

The time you sit in silence cannot have been more than a few seconds. Half a minute, at most. But with every tick of the clock you find it harder and harder not to fidget in this seat until your finger catches on a loose string of your dress and you give in to the urge to fiddle with it. Anything to keep you occupied as the silence stretches longer and longer. 

Finally, your father opens his mouth to speak. “Lord Kang came by just now. The Earl of Addiston.”

Your heart skips at least three beats and you feel a warmth emanating from your chest, spreading slowly through the rest of your body. “I see.”

“He asked for my permission to propose to you.”

Giddy excitement threatens to show itself on your face. You force your expression to remain still. “Did you consent?”

Your father looks at you long and hard. “Do you wish to marry him?”

Frustration and annoyance threaten to color your features, but you’ve remained quiet and placid for so many years that you manage to stop it from showing. What exactly does he want from you? Did he say yes, or did he say no? Why does he want to know if you would accept Taehyun’s suit? What does it matter to him? Then a terrible thought occurs to you. 

What if he already said no? 

Breathe. You force yourself to inhale. Exhale. You let go of the stray thread on your dress. “Did you consent?”

Your father’s eyes grow hard. “I asked you a question.”

“As did I.” You swallow hard. “And might I remind you, I asked it first.”

Your father is looking at you like he doesn’t quite know you. Which, you suppose, is true. He never really did. Never really cared to in the first place. But to be fair, you’ve never acted this way to him—or to anyone in the household, really—until today. 

Unfortunately, you are still a quiet person, cowed in your father’s presence, so after too many seconds of silence pass you finally reply. “But if you must know, yes. If he proposed, I would marry him.” 

Tension slowly fills the air the longer you look at your father. He must have realized what you said—or what you didn’tsay, really. If he proposed, I would marry him. Not if you consented, I would marry him. 

Subtle differences. But while you don’t necessarily enjoy the social season, you’ve been around enough to pick up on just how much subtlety can convey. 

“I asked if you wanted to marry him,” your father finally says. “Not if you would.”

You grit your teeth. What exactly is he playing at? “The answer to that is yes as well.”

He folds his hands. Leans back in his chair. Looks at you unflinchingly. You try to do the same even though it’s getting harder to control your expression. “I gave my consent,” he finally says, apparently oblivious to you doing your absolute best not to slump over in relief. “But he is an earl, daughter. Your Aunt Taylor tells me you have other suitors. Would you not want a marquess?”

It takes everything in you not to laugh. To not even scoff. “Father,” you say slowly, “trust me when I say I will not be receiving a proposal from a marquess this season.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Not the Marquess of Schannon?”

“Marquess Yang is a good man,” you say. “But I do not believe I am what he is looking for in a wife.”

“You are the diamond,” your father presses. “What else could he want in a wife?”

Good lord. How did your mother marry this man? “A connection, perhaps.” You try not to sound too sarcastic. “Someone he could care about and be a good partner to.”

He shakes his head. “You do not want a marquess?”

You sigh. “Father, if Lord Kang was a marquess, I would want a marquess. If he was a viscount, I would want a viscount.” Finally, you let some of your annoyance bleed through your tone. “I would marry Lord Kang, whatever title he had. I like him, Father, and if he wishes to have me, I will have him.”

Your father sighs. “Well, his estate is certainly large, and he is of good lineage.” As if those were the reasons you want to marry him. “I will approve this match, daughter, if it makes you happy.”

If it makes you happy. You almost snort, but instead you school features into neutrality. “Thank you, Father.” And as soon as you can after that, you leave the room. 

You run into your governess just down the corridor. But while you have to skid to a stop to avoid her, it looks like she’s been expecting you. “My lady,” she says breathlessly. “Lord Kang is in the drawing room, waiting for you.”

Your mind goes blank. Your governess takes the opportunity to start pushing you toward the stairs. 

Just outside the drawing room, you have to stop in order to take a few breaths. For some reason, even though you know what’s going to happen, your heart is beating like no tomorrow. Steadying yourself, you look up to the ceiling and say a quick prayer before stepping into the room. 

Lord Kang—Taehyun—turns around the moment you walk in and immediately his smile spreads wide across his face, more welcome and beautiful than anything you’ve ever seen. “My lady,” he says, bowing to your curtsy. There is a bouquet of flowers in his hand. “How are you this morning?”

“I thought I told you to call me by my name,” you say, not bothering to hide your own smile. “Oh, thank you.” You take the flowers he’s extending to you, suddenly feeling very shy. 

“Forgive me. Y/N.” His eyes grow softer, a sweet laugh escaping his lips. “I spoke to your father earlier.”

“I know.” You sit on the couch and he follows suit. Your governess makes to take the flowers, probably to put them in a vase somewhere, but you wave her off. You need something to hold or you’ll get too nervous and start fidgeting, and besides, they’re pretty. “He spoke to me just now. Though I must confess, I did not expect you to come so soon.” 

“Why wait?” Taehyun’s quips back, the corners of his lips quirking up. “I suppose, then, that you know what I came here to do.” He takes a deep breath, and out of the corner of your eye, you see your governess slipping out of the room. 

“You said you would need respect in marriage,” Taehyun says quietly. “Freedom, to pursue your own passions. I know you already said that you would view marriage favorably with me, but I wanted to make it known that I have always had, and always will have, an incredible amount of respect for you and your work, and that I would never deliberately endeavor to wrench you from it.” He tilts his head slightly. “And if I ever do so unintentionally, I beg that you tell me immediately so that I might rectify my mistake.”

You nod slowly, your heart full to bursting already. 

“In return, I only ask that you allow me the same respect. Not that you have ever given me a reason to assume you would otherwise.” His eyes crinkle with his smile. “And, if I may, Y/N…I do not know much of the love that which poets speak of, but even if I do not love you know given it has only been a few months since our meeting, I do believe that love will come very easily with you.”

Throat full of emotion, all you can do is nod. “And I, you,” you whisper, hardly able to breathe.

Taehyun pulls a small box out of his pocket. Eyes never leaving yours, he opens it, revealing a lovely ring inside. 

The breaths you couldn’t take lodges in your throat. You almost choke. Despite your ungainly behavior, the ring sparkles cheerfully in the morning sunshine, a simple band of gold set with a pearl, surrounded by tiny diamonds that throw light onto your face. “It’s beautiful,” you get out when you finally regain your voice. 

“There are several betrothal rings in my family’s collection, but I thought this one would suit you best,” Taehyun says. He looks at you so very softly, so very gently. “It’s yours if you would like to have it.”

There might be tears in your eyes, but you force them back as you nod once, twice. “I would,” you barely manage to whisper. 

You aren’t wearing gloves, so when Taehyun takes your hand this time, you almost jolt with the sensation of his warm skin against yours. He slides the ring onto your finger but doesn’t let go of your hand, even as the two of you admire it in the sunlight. “It’s lovely,” you breathe. 

Taehyun smiles. “I would say the hand,” he replies gently. 

You have the sudden realization that if you are to live the rest of your life with quiet compliments such as this, you might not survive more than few more years before you melt into a puddle on the ground. 

“I will call the banns for us,” Taehyun continues, as if he hadn’t just floored you with five simple words. “We can be married as soon as is comfortable. And as for your dowry, it’s yours to spend as you wish.” He laughs at your dumbfounded state. “I won’t touch a penny—” 

Before even you know what you’re doing, you’ve cut Taehyun off by wrapping your arms around him, pulling him to you in a warm embrace. The tears you tried to hold back have begun to fall and you’re well aware of how improper this is, but you couldn’t help it. “Thank you,” you whisper. “Thank you, Taehyun.”

His own arms settle around you, warmly, gently. “Of course, Y/N,” he murmurs, his words ghosting softly past your ear. “For you, always.”

. . . . .

epilogue.

Since you were young, you’ve grown used to rising early. Reading or practicing as the sun peeks over the horizon is incredibly calming, and it always sets the tone well for what you must do the rest of the day. 

The first few days after your wedding, though, every morning you remain in bed long after your usual waking time. Not least because the night’s exertions exhaust you, but it’s so wonderful to wake up in your husband’s arms, soft rays of sunlight peeking through the curtains and falling onto his face. Taehyun has always been handsome, but you think that he looks best in the morning light, his eyes softly closed, all the worries drained away from his face in slumber. 

After a week, though, you find yourself awake at your typical time, mind itching to return to your routine. You lie in bed for a few minutes longer with your eyes closed, but when sleep doesn’t overtake you again, you give in to the restless urge and slip out of the sheets as quietly as you can. Taehyun shifts a little in his sleep and you waver in your decision, but he eventually stills, breaths evening again. After kissing his forehead softly, you pad out of the room.

In the music room, you pull out a quiet sonata with which to accompany the rising sun. And as your fingers slowly dance over the keys, grey light turning pink through the window, your mind settles and so does your heart, an unconscious smile drifting over your lips. 

The door opens after some time. You look up at the creaking sound, letting the music fade away. In the doorway stands your husband dressed somewhat haphazardly, his hair still half a mess, sleep still evident in his eyes. He looks rather adorable. 

“Good morning,” you say, not even trying to hide your smile. “Is something wrong?”

“I woke up,” he mumbles back. “You weren’t there.” His eyes open a little more, a small, wry smile playing on his lips. “You’re an early riser.”

“I have been since I was young.” You make to rise but Taehyun waves you back down, instead coming to sit next to you on the piano bench. “I tried not to wake you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He lets his head fall onto your shoulder and his nose pokes right into the crook of your neck, right where you remember seeing a small red bruise from last night. You make a small noise but instead of moving away he just turns his head and kisses it. 

Heat floods your body. “Taehyun,” you hiss. 

“Y/N,” he says back, and even though you can’t really see his face you know he must be smiling. “Come back to bed. We’re still on our honeymoon.”

You laugh softly. “I won’t be able to sleep.”

“We don’t have to sleep,” he murmurs in reply, nipping lightly at the bruise. You hiss and swat at him but he easily dodges with a laugh. “Please, Y/N. Just a few hours more.”

You have known this man for just five months, been married to him barely a week, but already you’re completely weak to him and his large eyes. Though you try to suppress it, your smile grows wider as you finally acquiesce. “Let me finish playing through this,” you compromise, gesturing to the piano, “and then we can go.”

“Perfect.” Taehyun kisses you softly. “I love you.”

Your breath catches, just as it has every time he’s said those three words since the first night of your marriage. And as pink sunlight settles in the room, lighting on his face and yours, you give in to the melody singing in your heart and kiss him back. “I love you too.”

Reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed this, and have a lovely day :)

[judgementdayslittle]

Okayyy but how would the Judgment day react to their princess being upset/just having a bad day/maybe the got in trouble

So Princess gives Them all the silent treatment?🩷😭🙏🏻

-You were grumpy and causing chaos all day! Your caregivers kept telling you that you need to be a good girl, but no!

-So what if you don't want to be a good girl? You should be able to play with that glass vase if you want to, darn it!

-So for the rest of the day, you just sit there and ignore them.

-They first notice this when Papi comes up to you and asks "Would you like a snack, princesa?"

-And just.... nothing! You humph and turn away from him with your arms crossed.

-It was both adorable and concerning to him. "Come on princesa, are you still upset? How about we play together to get your mind off of things?" He suggested. Still nothing.

-He called Rhea over to see if she could help.

-"What's the matter princess? Did a cat bite your tongue?" She asked playfully. Trying to make you laugh. Still nothing.

-The she tried to ticket you, but you scooted away, a sign that you didn't want to be touched. And if course Mami respects your boundaries! No matter the situation.

-Then Finn came in and came up with an idea of his own.

-"She wanted to use the vase for a cooking pot, right? Why not give her something else to use?"

-They got a pot from the kitchen and placed it in front of you.

-You do want to play...But you don't want to acknowledge them. So your baby brain came up with the perfect idea!

-You say "Dis pot telwaported.", pick it up, and walk away.

-They sighed. Trying to brainstorm ways for you to talk to them.

-They thought about maybe saying something like they're going out for ice cream without you, or even go as far as to say they're gonna get a new baby because you went missing. But they very quietly shot that idea down. Manipulation is not the way to go.

-In the end, they decided to try one more thing. If it didn't work, they would just let you get your steam out.

-They come up to you and start talking to you.

-"Princesa, we're sorry if you got upset because we wouldn't let you play with the vase. We were scared that if it ended up breaking, you could get hurt from all the glass shards. And we don't want our baby hurt." Damian said.

-"Papi's right, sweetheart. We don't want our little princess to get hurt. We love you too much to let that happen. And right now, we really want to play with our baby. Will you let us play with you?" Rhea said.

-Well... You did feel bored playing alone. And you guess you can understand them not wanting you to get booboos.

-So with a big grin, you say "Okay! I make you soup then!"

-All three caregivers happily agree to try your soup.

-Even though your "soup" is warm water with you foods in it, they still enjoy it. More happy that they have their baby back than anything.

[wonton4rang]

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Super shy ¡!

pairing: riwoo x reader.

warnings: +18, smut. pet names, edging, humping, usage of riwoo's real name, sanghyeok.

summary: where riwoo is the pretty nerd you've got stuck with to make a project but what you didn't know is that he might not be as innocent and shy as he seemed to be.

note: i've been devastated since that video of bnd dropped and i saw riwoo, i have a MASSIVE crush on him omg 😭 i'm so sorry to anyone and everyone that doesn't knows this look on him 😔 pd. (update: 06/17) if you see any typos, no, you didn't <3

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you were never the type to be too talkative, you had your own space and didn't like to go out, your homework was up to date even if you didn't like to study and you had very few to none friends. you were surviving high school, to be honest.

but there was always someone that was worst than you, in this case, it was sanghyeok. he was the catalogued nerd of the class, his prescription glasses always on his nose bridge while his face got covered by some science book. he was even more quiet than you were, he had a single friend (donghyun) and you have never seen him at any place outside of school.

when you saw him for the first time, he was laughing with his best friend over god knows what, his smile being so gorgeous that you couldn't help but stare; the way his brown hair was done flawlessly and it dropped the perfect amount of hair to adorn his face. he looked so cute with those huge glasses and that soft hoodie, not the mention the lovely smell that he had when you walked pass him.

you immediately got a passenger crush on him.

it wasn't like you would die for him or anything but seeing him everyday made your own day a little better, he made your chest clench and your heart feel soft and joyful when he laughed, which didn't happen very often.

he was just so cute.

so when you got assigned that chemistry project and you both got together at his place to do it, you couldn't help the subtle blush that spread through your cheeks when you arrived at his door and knocked, him opening almost right away and giving you that smile that you liked so much.

"hey, come inside" he signalled when he moved from the frame, you entering the place almost instantly, checking around before you heard the door close and sanghyeok appeared in front of you "donghyun-ah it's not here today so it'll just be us, hope you don't mind...?"

"that's okay" you assured with a small smile, adoring the doubt on his voice when he talked to you. so pretty. "i didn't know you guys lived together"

"yeah, it's cheaper than living by yourself on campus, rent is for the elite at this point" you nodded while you followed his steps to the second floor, he was right. "but how are you doing? are you ready for today?"

"i hate chemistry, sanghyeok-ssi" was all you let out, not even noticing when you both got to his room until that familiar perfume filled your nostrils and made you look around "we're gonna do it here?"

"do you mind? i have most of my stuff here and he doesn't want any-"

"that's okay" sanghyeok just looked at you through his glasses, smirking a little bit before closing the door "so... um, where do we start?"

"why don't we start from the beginning?" he suddenly asked and it made you tilt your head in confusion "why don't you tell me since when do you like me?"

what the fuck.

you stayed silent for a second, frowning your eyebrows and holding your backpack laces tighter, taking a step back when he took one forward to you.

"why aren't you saying anything? i thought you loved to talk"

"sanghyeok, what is this?"

"you look really pretty in a skirt, y/n" was all he said back, finally taking a long step and closing the distance between your bodies, holding your waist with a firm grip and making you stumble back when he leaned forward to smell your neck "i also like your perfume, by the way"

"y-you... you know?" all the shame in the world belonged to you right now, your hands sweating against your backpack's strings and your legs trembling, not to mention the aggressive blush that flushed your cheeks. "i'm- i-"

"can i kiss you?" and that's when you knew that he was not interested in any project, that he didn't invite you over for that.

but it was so weird, so out of place, you even thought that you may be misreading the situation (if that was even possible), even when his hands gripped your waist firmly, his eyes staring into yours and his breath hitching when he got closer to your mouth.

there's no way this is sanghyeok, not the one you know, at least. this is not the shy boy that would look away if your eyes ever meet, the small and soft baby boy that used sweater paws. it just doesn't make sense to you.

where was his soft demeanor, his glittery eyes, his way of talking so calmed. it was all a lie? no, it wasn't, you just didn't know sanghyeok as a lover.

at least not until now.

"are you still thinking?" his voice brought you back, your hands loosening the grip on your backpack and going up to his chest, staring into his eyes.

"yes, you can kiss m-"

he didn't even wait for you to finish when his lips crashed against yours. he had been waiting for it long enough to waste another second. so he didn't.

his hands went up to remove your backpack and drop it to the ground, his lips devouring yours in such a way that it made your legs feel weak, your own hands now holding his shoulders.

when you felt his body press against yours, you softly moaned, applying pressure on his shoulders and smiling into the kiss when he took the chance to get his tongue into your mouth, playing with your sanity when his right knee pressed against your clothed pussy and he made some friction.

everything was so good that you didn't notice the way your back was flat in the wall behind you, your right leg being held up on sanghyeok's hip and his hands slowly rising up and down on what you skirt covered and what it didn't too.

"wait, sanghyeok-ssi" you managed to whisper against the kiss, pulling out to look at his face. his hair slightly misplaced and his glasses were fogged up with your breath. he looked so cute yet so hot. "what do you want to do?"

"i-" suddenly it seemed like his shy self came back, his throat not being able to form a correct sentence and his hands shaking against your skin. you laughed a little. "don't laugh at me"

"you look so cute"

"i don't want to be cute" his voice sounded mad but still cute so you just nodded and gave him a short kiss, petting his hair before looking into his eyes while expecting an answer; still feeling his hand holding your leg up when he pressed his pelvis against your clothed cunt, making you feel what he had been hiding "i want to have sex with you"

"that's really straightforward, don't you think?" but you were joking, you did not gave a single fuck if it was too straightforward or not, you would've gave in ten minutes ago if he asked you.

"you don't want to?" the way he asked you made your pussy throbb, he looked and sounded so offended that it was almost laughable but you just found it hot.

"i didn't say that but-"

"then why are we wasting time?" he interrupted, letting your leg go and quickly petting your hair, softly going down until his fingers grazed your cheek and then moved to your lips, playing with the bottom one for a bit before continuing saying "donghyun will not be out forever"

and so you understood what he meant right away, taking his face between your hands to kiss him again, this time you were the one walking and making him back up until the back of his knees hit the bed and he fell there. there was a fraction of second in the one you both looked at each other and it was so hot that you could only get in top of him and keep making out.

your hands held his face and your lips moved furiously against his, your hips starting to grind on his boner and him softly moaning into the kiss when he felt the friction, automatically buckling his hips up to meet your core.

it only got worse when you started to move faster and harder, wanting to feel as much as you could because his dick felt so good between your wet clothed folds that you just couldn't help it. your eyes were closed during the kiss but when his hands held your hips and started to make pressure there you had to break the kiss to moan pleasantly, your mind so cloudy and your breath speeding up while you looked him in the eyes.

he looked so cute, his eyes watery and his cheeks flushed, the hair slowly starting to stick to his forehead due to the sweat. your hands moved to his chest and you thought you'll go crazy when sanghyeok's hands went below your skirt and held your ass instead, harshly pressing on the skin and pressing his eyes closed when his hips got sloppy.

"i like this, it's really nice" you heard him say in an airy voice, feeling how his heart pace increased with every movement he made. "you feel so good"

but you couldn't really answer anything because you felt so ashamed right now, your own eyes watery and your legs shaking while the movement of your hips didn't stop.

it felt so good though, and you couldn't understand why, you were not a virgin, this was not the first time you humped with some dude but why did it made you feel so overwhelmed? the way your eyes couldn't stop seeing his face, the way his mouth moved, the way his moans sounded, it all should've gave you the idea.

you liked him.

the thought slipped out your head though when you felt your body switch positions, riwoo being in top of you now and holding your stare as he has never been able to do so before. his hands held the back of your thighs and soon he was pressing against your wet panties again but this time he actually did it very slowly, almost painful due to the necessity you were feeling.

"can i-" he started but his voice broke mid sentence as he kept moving against your pussy, he just couldn't stop, it's like he was possessed. "can i fuck you, please? just this time, if you don't like it we can-"

"please do" was all you let out, your hands holding his own hands to ensure that you were positive about this. "i would love to"

sanghyeok was a simple man, and a prepared one too, because the second you said yes he was already reaching for the drawer next to his bed and pulling out a condom that he struggled to open.

you took it and opened it for him, he took the chance to lower his pants instead and move your panties aside while his stare was fixed in your eyes, looking for any signs of discomfort in case he had to retract. he moved forward as he saw none and just licked his middle and anular finger before pushing them pass your wet folds, up and down your pussy before actually entering them in your warm hole.

he was amazed with the way your cunt sucked his fingers, so warm, so wet, so perfect. so when you handed over the condom already opened, he didn't waste time to put it on and instantly align his cock with your entrance.

"can i?" you nodded and he was pushing through right away, doing it slowly in case he had to stop, he just didn't want to hurt you. "all good?"

"you can go on, i'll let you know if anything"

and that gave him the green light he was looking for, slamming his hips against yours when he pushed all the way in, feeling your hips twitch but no hearing a word from you so he just did it again, thrusting so hard you could feel his dick brushing your cervix.

that warm feeling around his dick, the wetness, the sounds, and the way you squirmed under his touch made him even harder than he already was. one of his hands holding your waist and the other one going for your left boob and playing with it below your white dress shirt.

his lips soon found their place in your neck, starting to undo the buttons of your shirt so he could have more space to suck and kiss. and you didn't even protest to the hickies he was leaving there because, to be honest, you doubted he even knew those were going to appear later on.

plus, you were too busy thinking about his dick smashing your pussy to say anything. your walls welcoming him so well, you feeling the stretch and the way his thrusts got sloppy.

you could feel his breath accelerating against the skin of your neck, his moans sounding more high pitched and his body weight dropping onto yours, his glasses falling off his face when he finally left the crook of your neck to look at you in the eye.

"are you cumming?" you asked him, your hands holding his against your thighs and seeing him nod. you were not a person with a high libido but the way sanghyeok looked, so cute and innocent yet being able to fuck you so well while sweetly moaning got you going. "i am too"

"i'm really close, y/n, s-so close" he mumbled, barely seeing your face without his glasses. "it feels so good to be inside of you, oh god"

but the moment he kept saying those things with his sweet voice and dreamy eyes, you couldn't hold it back. you wanted to make him cum first but your plan shattered with his cute face and soft eyes while he fucked you good.

it was too much to handle, too much to process.

so you just let yourself go and finally buckled your hips up a little bit to meet his and cum with a soft mewl, your right hand going down to massage your throbbing clit while sanghyeok opened up his eyes after he felt your body shake beneath him.

he really didn't get it until he felt your pussy clench around his dick and saw your legs shaking on each side of his body as he kept fucking you fast enough to keep your orgasm alive for longer than you could take it.

which made you decide that it was time for him to cum, reaching to his shirt with your free hand and pulling him down to kiss his lips. you knew what it did to him. because two could play the game, right?

it didn't take him ten seconds to cum after you started kissing, inevitably letting a broken moan into his mouth when he finished with two harsh thrusts that made your body hitch in the bed.

he cried out during the kiss, cupping your face when he stopped moving his hips and making the kiss deeper, using his tongue right away and you laughing a little bit when you felt him looking for his glasses around your neck without breaking the kiss.

once he found them he left the kiss to put them on and finally pull out, being careful to not spill the condom inside of you and getting off his bed to trash it.

you were already sitting on the edge of his bed when he came back, panties back in place and skirt and shirt perfectly placed. even your hair looked fine, making sanghyeok question if you guys really had sex just a few moments ago.

"that was great, sanghyeok, i-" you mumbled when he sat down besides you on his own bed, making you nervous all of the sudden "i really enjoyed"

"i liked it too... do you think we can... you know... do this again?" but your face made him panic for a second, adding a simple: "if you don't mind, of course"

but that was precisely the problem, you did mind. you were surprised by the way a simple crush became something bigger without you even noticing.

"i don't think we should keep seeing each other like this" honesty was your way to go at this point "it's not you, i just feel like i could catch feelings and i kinda like you so-"

"wait, what?"

"i mean, you don't have to do anything, i was just giving you my reasons and-" you were the one who panicked this time with the tone he used to respond, your nervousness getting worse when he interrupted you again.

"i want to do something about it, though. i kinda like you too"

"you what!?"

"yeah, i liked you since the first day i saw you at school. i thought you were really pretty and then we got to share classes and i got to see you more everyday and see how you acted and... i really like you, actually" he said with a shy smile before adding "i am so sorry i didn't say it before i just thought that maybe you didn't see me that way"

"you are so smart yet so fucking dumb sometimes, you know that, right?"

and both of you just laughed, kissing a little bit more and cuddling in sanghyeok's bed to talk about yourselves, what you liked, what you didn't, your point of view about certain topics and so on.

now imagine the surprise in donghyun's face when he got home and went to sanghyeok's room just to find you both cuddling and pleasantly sleeping in each others arms.

"finally" was all he mumbled before going to his own room.

he was so tired of listening to sanghyeok talking about you that he could only feel happy yet scared. happy because now you guys were together but scared because if sanghyeok was a simp without even dating you... imagine now.

but, oh, well. shit happens, it is what it is.

[major-mads]

Chapter 12: A New Normal

John "Bucky" Egan x Ruth Morgan (OFC)

Series Masterlist

A/N: interrogation time boissss!!!

Collab: On a Wing and a Prayer by @footprintsinthesxnd

Word Count: 6k

October 13, 1943: Dulag Luft: Frankfurt, Germany:

As John Egan slouched into the leather chair in his interrogator’s office, everything ached. His eyes, his head, his ribs, his back…everything. On top of all this, the Lieutenant before him was offering him a drink like he was an old friend, not a prisoner of war who’d already faced unimaginable horrors in the last few days alone. 

Not a man who lost everything he had to live for. 

John raised his glass, unflinching as his sore muscles cried in protest. “Here’s, uh, mud in your eye.”

The fact that Haussmann didn’t know the phrase brought him a sense of satisfaction. The most he could have in his situation.

“So, where shall we begin?”

Putting down his glass, Bucky’s eyes stared at the cup as he spoke bitterly. “How about I was in a town and someone shot four of the guys with me.”

“Oh my...What town?” he asked quickly, almost too quickly.

‘It’s all a tactic. Every single word,’ John reminded himself. ‘Don’t give him anything.’

“‘Russheim, something. I don’t know-”

Haussmann cut him off, a false look of concern painting his face. “Rüsselsheim. That’s tragic. I will add it to the report.”

‘All lies.’

“Your colleagues,” he continued, grabbing a pen and paper. “The ones who were killed, if you could give me their names and rank, I can pass it on to-”

It was John’s turn to interrupt, the flashes of the men’s lifeless bodies making his chest burn in anger. “I don’t know their names. We just happened to be put together. Look, I appreciate the drink and would really appreciate a thicker blanket, but as far as what you’re gonna get from me, it’s gonna be name, rank, and serial-”

“And serial number. Yours is O-399510…Yes, I already know that,” the interrogator grinned in a way that made the Major’s skin crawl. 

“I also know that you were born in Manitowoc, Wisconsin. Married?”

John’s gaze fell back to his drink, Ruth’s smiling face appearing in his mind, her infectious laugh ringing in his ears. 

‘In a perfect world, we would be.’

An unsettling grin reappeared on the Nazi’s face as he flipped through John’s folder. “From what I hear, there’s not a wife, but there is a woman. A recent development, hmm? What is her name?”

For the first time since the Major sat down across from the Lieutenant, his words got a response. Bucky’s eyes snapped to meet his, anger flaming in them for a moment before he concealed his emotions once again. He bit his tongue to keep from opening his mouth. This man had no right to even utter her name after she was ripped from him by this scum’s people.

“Ah, yes, I found it. Ruth Morgan. Nurse, or should I say, former nurse, with the…,” he checked the file. “806th Medical Air Evacuation and Transport Squadron.”

Former Nurse…With those two words, the emotions he’d tried to get control of the past few weeks threatened to consume him, and his heart sank to the depths of his gut.

 ‘It’s a tactic. He’s trying to break you down,’ John repeated. ‘Don’t listen to him.’

John shifted in his seat with barely furrowed brows and a clenched jaw, reminding himself to breathe as the pressure in his chest mounted at the fact that this man knew so much about Ruth. 

Did Hope or Frank somehow survive? 

Did they go through here?

Is she alive?

These questions ran rampant in his mind in the small office, the sickening portrait of Adolph Hitler looming over him. 

“Squadron, 418th. Group,  the 100th Bomber Group. H for heavy, headquartered at Thorpe Abbotts.”

Refusing to give a single ounce of information, Bucky stared at him blankly as the Lieutenant closed the file, a despicable smirk still plastered on his face. 

“Are you a baseball fan, Major?”

No response.

“Certainly that’s not a national secret,” he suggested, grabbing a pack of cigarettes from a desk drawer and offering one to John, who stared at it for a moment before taking one silently.

Haussmann stood and lit his cigarette. “Sorry, they are not as good as your American brands. Lucky Strike is my personal preference.”

Bucky took a drag of the cigarette and let out a sigh, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. If he was being honest with himself, he didn’t even know if he could roll his eyes with the constant pain that surged through his right eye. Double vision had been plaguing him since he first got knocked in the face that night in the town…Rüsselsheim, as he now knew, and only worsened after his head took a few blows.

“Baseball is still a bit of a mystery to me with all the sticks and bases, running in circles. There was the big championship last week, wasn’t there?”

Tapping his cigarette ashes into the small tray on the desk, John finally broke his silence. “Yeah, World Series.”

“Ah yes, the World Series. The New York Yankees versus the St. Louis Cardinals. A rematch, yes?”

“We were up two games to one when I went down,” the Major nodded slightly.

John thought Ruth would’ve gotten a kick out of Hugh’s behavior toward him after the Cardinals beat the Yankees in game two of the series. He could see her teasing grin and hear her lighthearted giggle that never failed to make his heart jump. Her memory touched every part of his mind, and it was impossible to go through a day, an hour, a minute without thinking of her. 

“So you are a Yankees fan. Would you like to know the outcome of the World Series?”

‘I’d much rather get outta here,’ Johnny thought, but he stayed quiet, staring at the desk. 

“Was Buck Cleven a Yankees fan?”

His gaze lifted to meet the icy eyes of the Luftwaffe Lieutenant, and he had to take a steadying breath to fight against the rage coursing through him.

“No? Yes?” he smirked. “I know Ruth Morgan was not.”

The mounting pressure in Bucky’s chest became too much, threatening to explode if he didn’t release it. “And how do you know that?” he all but growled at the man.

One side of Haussman’s mouth curled into another cruel grin and he ignored John’s question, leaning over the desk to grab a newspaper, revealing a New York Times paper from the Bremen raid. “I hear Cleven was quite the flyer. I read of his exploits in the Regensburg attack.”

Everything he did was choreographed…no word or action was wasted.

“He was your friend wasn’t he? It seems we are shooting down all the good pilots…and apparently nurses, as well.”

“I wouldn’t be bragging about killing medics,” John scoffed roughly, his nostrils flaring as his voice hardened. “Pretty sure that’s a war crime.”

“You and I both know C-47s are not marked with a red cross, Major Egan.”

Silence.

“Did you know that on your Münster attack, only one of your planes returned?” Haussman held up a finger. “One.”

Although he didn’t show it, Bucky’s mind was in shambles. ‘He’s got to be lying,’ he thought. ‘There’s no way only one plane survived…but has he said anything untrue this whole time? Has he lied at all?’

“But back to you, Major Egan,” he began, inspecting his file once more. “I regret to inform you that you are, as you say, in a bit of a pickle. We know you were originally apprehended near Ostbevern…but we don’t have you on any record as a crew member on any planes from the Münster attack.”

Lies. 

“The Gestapo would say that makes you a spy.”

Johnny’s eyes rose to meet the man’s gaze as he spoke up, keeping his voice even amid the rage bubbling within him. “They would be mistaken.”

“One thing I can tell you, Major, the Gestapo is never mistaken.”

Haussmann’s bright blue eyes bored into John’s softer, greyish irises as he stared at him before taking a deep breath. “So I need verification of your group, your squadron, and your plane so that I can confirm to them that you are indeed what you say you are.”

‘What else can they take from me?’

Bucky took a drag of his cigarette, his gaze falling back to the desk as he spoke, the smoke filling the air around him. “John Egan,” he raised his brows before tapping his ashes again. “Major. O-399510.”

“Major,” the Nazi said quietly, almost sympathetically. “May I say that you’re not doing yourself any favors? The Gestapo, they are different than me. Me, I’m like you: a flier…a man of honor. And I can understand things in a way that perhaps my colleagues from the highly indoctrinated security forces might not…I’d like to talk about Buck Cleven and Ruth Morgan, John.“

The anger within the Major simmered away, leaving only sadness in its wake…all-encompassing grief that he’d been pushing down for almost a month, reverting to his old drinking habits to numb the pain. 

“But I’d like you to talk to me as well,” Haussman continued. “The number of replacement B-17s expected at Thorpe Abbotts next week, for example.”

And Bucky’s gaze drifted back up to his interrogator, he didn’t even blink. Despite his inner turmoil, he refused to let this man get anything from him. “John Egan. Major. O-399510.”

“I see,” he nodded, raising his voice to the men outside. “Wachen. Wir sind am Ende.”

A few seconds later, two guards appeared and hauled John to his feet. He withheld a groan as his bruised body was jostled toward the threshold. Just before he passed into the dark hallway, the Lieutenant called out to him one last time.

“Oh, Major Egan, about the World Series,” the Nazi began, his lips twisting into a cruel smirk. “The Yankees always end on top.”

The Yankees always end on top…

John’s eyes widened, and he felt as though the air had been knocked from his lungs as the familiar words hung in the air. His own hand had written them in his final letter to Ruth just days before she went down. His mind reeled as he was thrown into his cold, dark, and flea-infested cell.

Sitting on the small stool at the foot of his wooden cot, hope surged within him. If they’d read the letter, it meant she’d been here…

“She’s alive,” Bucky whispered, a shaky grin tugging at his lips as tears burned his eyes. “Ruth’s alive.”

October 14th, 1943: Stalag Luft III: 04:00: 4 AM

Two weeks had passed since Hope, Ruth, and Frank arrived at Stalag Luft III. To Hope, those two weeks in that hell hole felt like two years, and sleep didn’t come easy for her. She spent the first few nights on high alert, her eyes watching every movement outside the hut. She was convinced they’d be moved again, and after losing her friends in Dulag Luft, she wasn’t going to let the same thing happen again. Ruth tried to reassure her that they weren’t going to be split up again, but even she was unsure of what was planned for them. She tried to stay up with hope for several nights, but sleep eventually overtook her each time and she slipped into a dreamless slumber.

After several nights without sleep, Hope grew irritated, snapping at any minor inconvenience, but she’d been forced to bite her tongue when the guards barked orders during their morning and night appells. The stern glare Frank sent her told her now was not the time to put up a fight. 

She hadn’t meant to be so short-tempered but as she’d watched Ruth and Frank sleep, she’d resented them for resting easy. Her mind spun twenty-four hours of the day, constantly on alert, continually in overdrive. Frank had joined Ruth in staying up with Hope, taking it in shifts to try and distract her from her constant worry. 

“Do you know what happened to her in Dulag Luft?” Ruth whispered to Frank one night while Hope paced up and down the hallway. 

Frank shook his head with a yawn, “She won’t tell me what happened. When I found her, Ruth, I…” Frank shook his head, “Well, she wasn’t the same Hope I used to know.” 

After Hope rejoined them, her pacing finally ceased and she sunk onto her cot, her eyes finally growing heavy. The guard's patrols seemed less frequent that night, and Ruth watched as Hope’s eyes gradually slipped closed, her body slouched against the end of their cot. Leaning against the wooden beam wasn’t the most comfortable position, but Ruth and Frank were just thankful she’d finally fallen asleep. Once her breaths evened out and she was sleeping soundly, the pair slipped into their beds. Frank fell asleep the second his head hit his straw pillows, but Ruth lay awake, staring at the wooden slats of the bunk above her.

It was no secret that Ruth Morgan was a worrier, but Hope? She was the strong one who was always there when Ruth needed her to be. But seeing her best friend so debilitated by her fears and anxieties scared her to death. It had only been two weeks and the camp was already taking a serious toll on the Americans.

With a quiet sigh, Ruth closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind, willing herself to drift off to sleep. But just as she felt herself succumb to sleep’s embrace, a sudden noise jolted her awake and she sat up in bed. It took her a moment to realize that the noise was coming from Hope’s bunk.

Ruth’s heart ached as she watched Hope toss and turn in her sleep, her brow furrowed in distress. Her chest heaved beneath the thin blankets, and her movements grew more frantic with each passing moment. 

“Hope?” Ruth whispered, reaching a tentative hand through the gap between their beds to shake her foot. When she whimpered in response, Ruth’s concern deepened, and she moved from her bed to crouch in front of Hope. “Hey, wake up,” she said a little louder, rubbing her shoulder.

No response.

Ruth shook her friend’s shoulder roughly, her worry-stricken voice filling the room. “Hope!” 

Hope’s eyes opened suddenly and she lurched forward off the end of her bunk, nearly knocking herself out on the bunk above her. 

“Hey, it’s okay.”

Hope stared back at her, her dark eyes wide and full of tears as sweat trickled down her forehead, her chest heaving against her overalls. It took her a moment to realize what was going on as Frank’s worried face appeared beside the blonde’s. Ruth reached forward, trying to brush away the hair that had fallen across Hope’s forehead, but Hope caught her wrist, squeezing it painfully. 

“Don’t touch me,” she hissed, pushing herself quickly off the cot and marching towards the door of the hut, not once looking back at her friends.

Ruth’s heart sank as Hope’s words stung like a slap across her face. She watched helplessly as her friend retreated to the door. For a moment, she was frozen in shock, her mind racing as she tried to make sense of what had just happened.

“Hope, wait,” she called out.

But Hope didn’t stop. She disappeared through the doorway without a backward glance, leaving Ruth and Frank standing in stunned silence.

Frank glanced at Ruth, his brow furrowed in concern. “Are you okay?”

Ruth blinked back tears, her throat tight. She shook her head slowly, unable to find the words to express how she felt as Frank pulled her into a hug. “She didn’t mean it.”

Despite his reassuring words, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was changing between them. She had always leaned on Hope for support, finding solace in her unwavering presence, but when she tried to extend the same comfort, she was met with rejection. Their friendship was built on openness and their ability to share everything, and now that foundation was cracking beneath the pressure of life in the camp.

Stepping back, Frank cleared his throat and grabbed his jacket from the table. “I’ve gotta go after her. Stay here.”

Ruth nodded, her gaze fixed on the door through which Hope had disappeared moments before. A knot of worry tightened in her stomach as she watched Frank leave, his footsteps echoing faintly down the hallway in the quiet of the night. Alone in the dark room, she sank back onto her bunk.

How had things changed so quickly? Just days before they had been a united front, promising to get through their time in the camp together. But now, it felt like there was a growing chasm between them, widening with each passing moment.

She ran a hand through her hair, hurt, worry, and frustration simmering within her. She longed for the comfort of her friend’s presence, for the reassurance that everything would be alright. In that moment on her bed, Ruth decided she could no longer rely on others to do that for her, to reassure her, to get her through her anxiety. If Hope crumbled and their roles were reversed, would she be able to step up into that role? She didn’t know. But she did know that she’d do everything in her power to get her friend back.

Ruth sighed heavily and lay on her back, trying to find some semblance of peace amidst the chaos of her thoughts. She turned toward the wall, her eyes finding a small photograph propped up on the small shelf against the wall of her bunk. Oh, how she longed to go back to when things were so much simpler, to when she and Hope were happy, to when she could smile and laugh with the man she loved, to when she still had her freedom.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she whispered the words she longed to say to him even though he couldn’t hear her. “I love you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper in the silence of the room.

Frank walked back into the room with a sigh, tossing his jacket back onto the table. “I can’t see anything, soI’ll go back out in a little bit. I don’t think she wants to be found right now, anyways.”

“Did I do something wrong?” she inquired quietly, turning to face him. 

He ran a tired hand down his face and scratched his growing stubble. “No. I-I just don’t know what to do. I’ll wait up for her, alright? You go to sleep.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Now go on. I know you’re exhausted.”

Bidding him goodnight with a quiet murmur, Ruth reached out and picked up her photograph, holding it closer to her chest as she gazed at the image of her and John. Their smiles were frozen in time and the sweet memory was immortalized forever. Despite her worry for her friend, Ruth finally succumbed to exhaustion, her grip on the photo never faltering as she drifted off to sleep.

Five AM came in the blink of an eye, and Ruth begrudgingly sat up, wrapping her blanket around her body when the morning chill bit at her skin. She looked over at Hope’s bunk, expecting her to be staring up at the underside of Frank’s bunk like her nightmare never happened, but all she saw was crumpled sheets. Frank was always the first awake, sitting at the table with a cup of lukewarm ersatz coffee he got from the kriegie kitchen next door to their block. Ruth stood and found Frank’s empty bunk looked the same as Hope’s.

Bright sunlight filtered through the room’s one window, lighting up the space. Frank was surely out searching for Hope, and Ruth doubted that he got even a wink of sleep waiting up for her. With a sigh, she got herself ready and sat out on the steps of her block, watching as the camp came alive with prisoners, each starving for their breakfast. The warm days had turned into cooler ones as September faded into October and Summer faded to Fall. Soon, she feared, winter would be upon them and they would have no way to stay warm. They heard from the compound old-timers of the harsh German winters, and they sounded anything but pleasant, especially as a prisoner of war.

A man walked by her with a cup of coffee and her stomach rumbled as hunger pains shot through her abdomen. Although it had only been three weeks since they began eating less-than-nutritious meals, Ruth noticed her already large clothes nearly falling off her slimming frame. They all tried to eat anytime they could, but it still wasn’t enough, even with the Red Cross packages the received once a week. In truth, the packages were the only thing really keeping the kriegies from starving.

As she scanned the compound for any sign of her friends, Ruth’s eyes caught on two familiar figures and she let out a relieved breath. She stood to her feet and did her best to put on a smile as they approached. Hope sent her one in return, but it didn’t reach her eyes…none of her smiles did anymore. Linking her hand through Ruth’s, she squeezed it gently. Ruth was somewhat pleased to see even the faintest smile on Hope’s face, even if it was forced. She’d been so withdrawn since their arrival to the Stalag that Ruth worried she was slowly slipping away before her eyes.

The trio made their way over to the kitchen window, each collecting their modest breakfast of black bread, which according to a few of the old timers, was filled with sawdust. 

“I miss the breakfast back at base,” Frank groaned as he chewed through the tough, brown slice. He was thankful he had always had good teeth, otherwise he risked losing a few just at breakfast. 

The girls nodded in agreement, their mouths watering at the thought of powdered eggs, toast, maybe even some bacon and hot coffee that didn’t taste like total crap. Ruth still kept a vivid memory of the man by the gate when they arrived who was just skin and bone. Hope had seen a man similar in the infirmary where she was helping out and told Ruth that the man was still in good spirits, but that didn’t help the fear that grew inside her chest. 

Would she end up just like him?

Hope was thankful for a job in the infirmary working alongside a few of the camp's doctors. She’d been given a sense of purpose which had been taken from her, and despite the lack of sleep and the ache in her chest, she managed to pull herself out of bed each day for that purpose. Ruth was happy for her. Hope was born to be a nurse, it was her calling and seeing her helping people again gave them all a little hope. The back and forth between Hope’s moods worried her friends more than anything. 

Ruth found her own purpose in the camp by teaching some of her fellow POWs how to read. Many of them were just boys when the depression hit and were forced to drop out of school to work the fields to keep their families afloat. So every morning after breakfast and their morning appell, Frank walked her to the Kriegie school, nicknamed Kriegie University, and she taught a few classes throughout the day. One was a basic reading class, and the others were literature studies like the ones she taught back home. If there was one thing Stalag Luft III had an overabundance of, it was books. The south compound’s extensive library was a popular spot, and it gave Ruth the perfect material to use in her classroom.

Frank took up working in one of the camp’s relied-on gardens. The girls had encouraged him to take up a study he might have been interested in, but he seemed happy in the garden. 

“You girls know I’m better with my hands, that’s why I fly the plane,” he’d told them. 

He’d supplemented his time between the garden and playing baseball which seemed to bring back some of the old Frank. Watching him play reminded the girls of the fun-loving young man he was. The war had aged them all and they sometimes forgot that Frank wasn’t really that much older than them.

After breakfast and the 6 am appell, they went their separate ways, Hope strutting toward the infirmary and Frank dropping off Ruth at the school on the way to the garden. Her classroom wasn’t big by any means and was just bigger than their room, but it sent her back to the days before the war, before she joined the nurse corps…when she poured into young minds day after day.

Her first class of the day was British Literature and around ten men slowly filtered through the door and sat at the three tables spread throughout the room. The men in this class, unlike her basic reading ones, were college students when the war broke out. Some were drafted while others put their studies on hold and volunteered. The youngest was 19 and the oldest was 21. Remembering her years in college, Ruth’s heart ached for the boys and their sacrifice of a normal life to defend their country. 

All of them had their notebooks given by the Red Cross open and ready to go when Ruth handed out the day’s text, each one greeting her with a half-smile and good morning. 

“Good morning, everyone,” she announced, holding up the book she handed out. “Have any of you read Beowulf before?”

“Don’t forget to read pages 186 through 215 before next class!”

Once the last of Ruth’s students trickled out the door, she sat down at her small desk and graded their latest assignment. Reading paper after paper, marking correct or incorrect, circling a letter at the top of the page, time sped by. Even back home, the process of grading papers, despite how pesky and time consuming it was, always gave Ruth time to think. Sitting in her small classroom, she thought of her family, her parents,  how worried they must be. It was the first thing she’d do once they were allowed to send mail again, write a letter telling her parents she was alive. Home. It was also a topic she thought of often.

Her mind then shifted to John as it often did at random moments. Ruth wondered what he was doing. Was he fully in his element, soaring through the sky in his fort, leading his men through no matter what? Sitting in their corner of the Dickleburgh pub nursing a glass of whiskey? Singing his heart out in the Officer’s Club? Whatever he was doing, she hoped he thought of her like she did of him. The devil on her shoulder whispered that he didn’t, that he’d forgotten about her the second she went down. But the angel on the other reminded her of all the times they shared, all the memories full of love and promises for the future. He wouldn’t forget about her…she wouldn’t let him. His would be the second letter she’d send.

Hope. The nightmares, the closed-off attitude, all of it. The woman she knew and loved, her best friend, was morphing into someone she didn’t recognize. What could she do if Hope wouldn’t let her in? How could anyone help if someone doesn’t let them? Soon, her brain became a jumbled mess of memories, Beowulf, worries, and everything else.

The smell of honeysuckles in early spring, Grendel, John smiling at her atop the Muggs, A+, family dinners at the local diner, 10/12: B-, Hope’s terrified eyes from that morning. 

The hours passed in a flash, and before she knew it, Ruth stared at the bare wood of her desk, the full stack of graded papers to her right. She blinked away her thoughts and glanced at her watch, cursing under her breath as 11:55 am stared back at her. 

She was almost late to meet Frank and Hope for lunch! Ruth quickly gathered her things and left the school, treading through the ever-present mud toward the mess hut. Her eyes scanned the men around her as she walked. She caught sight of one of the guards, his bright blonde hair sticking out from the sides of his cap while he stared at her, never pulling his eyes from her figure. Ruth pretended she didn’t see him. The less attention she showed, the better. Over their two weeks in the camp, the guards hadn’t messed with them at all, but they stared…they loved to stare. 

“I was about to come looking for ya!”

Frank leaned against the mess hut with a cigarette between his fingers, blowing out a puff of smoke. The unease from the guard slowly faded away at the sight of his comforting form. He wouldn’t let anything happen to them if he was near…they both knew that.

“I had a bunch of papers to grade,” she sighed, mirroring his stance against the building and readjusting her sling. “Time…it, uh, got away from me.”

He raised a brow skeptically, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Are you sure that’s it?”

“No,” Ruth whispered brokenly.

“What is it?”

“Everything, but Hope…Frank, I-I’m worried about her.”

“Something must’ve happened at Dulag Luft when we were separated. She’s been different since then. Not that we’ll ever be the same, but-”

“I know,” she interrupted. “We need to find out. If she won’t talk to me, maybe she’ll talk to you. We have to try.”

Frank ran a tired hand down his face, his eyes filled with worry. “I’ll try.”

“I don’t know what else to-”

Spotting Hope over Ruth’s shoulder, he cleared his throat and nodded her way, the pair going silent as the woman approached.

“Everything alright?” Hope asked, falling into step beside Ruth who gave her a reassuring nod. 

“Yes, I was just telling Frank about my morning, I’ve been so busy with classes that I almost missed lunch.” 

Hope was pleased to see the way Ruth’s eyes lit up as she spoke about her teaching. She would have loved to have known her before the war, before they each had a part of themselves ripped away, but seeing her now reminded Hope that they might be able to find their old selves again one day. 

Lunch consisted of thin, runny potato soup with a few vegetables from the camp garden. Frank beamed as he pointed out his effort in helping prepare the vegetables for their meal. 

“Who knew Frank was so green fingered,” Ruth chuckled, slurping the soup from her spoon.

“Well they way he used to hug those hedges back in Norfolk,” Hope jested, “It’s a wonder ‘The Angel’ never ended up in one.”

Frank rolled his eyes dramatically at the girls' antics, pleased to see they could still laugh about something. He wasn’t sure how they kept him smiling but they always managed it. He worried of course, between Hope closing herself off from them and Ruth’s endless worry he wondered how they smiled at all. There were moments when it felt like they were back in Berkshire sitting around the mess hall telling stories from their childhoods.

“Well, I always said you should have got your pilot wings, Hope. I wouldn’t have minded you as a co-pilot.” 

Hope gave him a faint smile. Thinking of perusing a different career seemed so far away from where they were.

“She’d have given you a run for your money, Frank,” Ruth giggled again, finishing up her soup. She glanced over at Hope who just sent her a small smile again. There were moments when she saw the old Hope again rather than the closed-off shell of the woman she had become. She wasn’t sure what to do, but she could only tiptoe around on eggshells for so long before someone cracked. 

“I should be getting back to my classroom,” Ruth declared, pushing back her rickety, wooden chair and stepping back. “I’ll see you both later.” 

“Be careful, Ruth. Do you want me to walk with you?” Frank asked, half pushing his chair back but she waved him away. 

“It’s not far, Frank. I’ll be fine,” she smiled at Frank but nudged her head towards Hope, trying to prompt Frank to follow through on their earlier conversation. 

Frank nodded. 

“Bye Rue,” Hope’s quiet voice could barely be heard above the noises around them but Ruth did. She sent her friend a small smile. It felt like that’s all they did now…smile at each other. 

Ruth hoped, prayed Frank would get through to her, that she’d finally open up. That she’d get her friend back. Taking a deep breath, she pushed down her fears and prepared herself for her next class: reading basics.

October 22, 1943: Stalag Luft III: 15:00 HRS: 3 PM

Ruth walked around her classroom, her boots thudding against the bare wood floors as she glanced at the test on her student’s desks. They were required to read a passage and answer a few comprehension questions afterward, but some of them were struggling. These were the boys who had little to no education, who were never taught to read or write more than basic words. Part of the 10% of draftees the government alloted could be illiterate. 

Noah Alden stared at the sheet of paper, his squinted eyes focusing on the passage, letter after letter, word after word, sentence after sentence, but his mind couldn’t wrap around its meaning. With a defeated sigh, he dropped his pencil and lowered his face into his hands. A few classmates sent him sympathetic looks, but they soon went back to their own tests. Ruth crouched beside him, his eyes raising  to hers. 

“Whatcha stuck on?” she asked quietly.

“I’m okay.”

“Are you sure about that?”

He stared at her for a long moment, seemingly contemplating whether to tell the truth or not. He decided to be truthful “I just can’t get it.”

“The reading part? Or the questions?”

“The reading part. See this here,” Noah started, pointing to the third sentence in the paragraph. “What does this mean?”

Before Ruth could respond, the shrill sound of a siren filled the air and the men all looked at each other excitedly, their eyes widening in anticipation. Even Noah’s downtrodden expression lifted, revealing a crooked smile on his lips.

New arrivals.

She stood to her feet. “Go on,” she grins, shooing them away with her hands. “We can finish this Monday.”

Within seconds, the six thanked her and were out the door, hooting and hollering like high school boys as they ran to the gate, hoping to glimpse a familiar face. Ruth collected the papers and deposited them inside her desk. For the first time since 1942, Ruth Morgan did what she was called to do: teach.

After going back to her room, grading some assignments, and catching up on some reading, she checked her watch. 5:30 pm. Hope and Frank were usually back by then, so she decided to search for them. Ruth checked the garden and the infirmary with no luck, but she felt as if the earth fell beneath her feet when she saw a group approaching from the gate. At the front of the group was Frank, who held a unmoving Hope in his arms. 

“Frank!”

Ruth’s mind went haywire at the sight and she ran to meet them. Was she dead? What happened? As she neared them, the other men’s faces came into focus. They were instantly recognizable as men from the 100th, but her main focus was her friend. 

“What happened? Is she alright?” Ruth sputtered, coming to a stop before him and hesitantly raising a hand to Hope’s emotionless face. Dried tear tracks streaking down her cheeks were visible from where she leaned into Frank’s embrace. 

Frank just sighed, his tired eyes falling to Hope’s  figure. “Cleven’s here.” 

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[midorisudachi]

“Living a lie…it festers inside you, like poison. You have to fight for what’s in your heart.” – Dorian Pavus

I recently beat Dragon Age Inquisition for the third time! I love that game immensely: everything about it is wonderful. I chose a male Inquisitor - as a rogue - because I wanted to romance Dorian. The first time I played DAI, it was the female elf Lavellen – whom I named Zephyra – and she was a mage, and the romance with Solas was a bloody disaster & heartbreaking. (Damn you, Solas!) The second time I played as the human female Trevelyan – named Bryony (who you have seen me do two fanarts of) – a warrior, and romanced Cullen. (Cullen is so hot for a video game character…where can I find a man like that? Lol.) I hope you like this artwork!

Also: Happy Pride Month! 🌈 It’s actually a perfect time to submit this artwork. This was a lot of fun to create (a full colour piece). If you haven’t played the Dragon Age games, it is actually very LGBTQ friendly. You can make your characters gay, lesbian, or bisexual. There is even a transgender male in DAI, named Krem, who is a cool character. Bioware is open-minded, that’s for sure, so the DA series is for everybody. And omg, let me tell you that the conversations & bantering between the characters is hilarious!

⚠️Warning: Spoilers Ahead!⚠️

Dorian is quite the character…a sarcastic & witty lad. He is complex at first, especially regarding his history (how his father tried to “erase” who he truly was, when it came to his homosexuality). It was fun romancing him with Cedric (Trevelyan), who I made a rouge/assassin. So off course I had to draw my OC [male] Cedric Trevelyan with Dorian! Cedric is Dorian’s “Amatus”. I made them wear simpler outfits when I drew them, because near the end of the game, they were wearing complex armour. That stuff is hard to draw! I chose to draw Lilies by Cedric & Dorian, because if you romance Dorian, his tarot card shows him holding what looks like a Lily.

The two of them had this conversation near the end of the Trespasser DLC:

Cedric: “Whatever happens, I wouldn’t trade the years we’ve had together for anything. I love you.”

Dorian: “I knew you would break my heart, you bloody bastard.”

Lol! Awww, jeez, Dorian, just say you love my Inquisitor, too. I honestly really think that Dorian loved him, as stubborn as he was to admit it. At first I was annoyed when Dorian chose to go back to Trevinter, and I thought, “Darn you, don’t you dare pull a Solas on my Inquisitor, after all you've gone through with him!” However, after the game ends, it tells you what happens to the characters (depending on your choices). For me, the game said that Dorian’s “greatest strength lay in the lover he left in the south, but still conversed with via message crystal”, and “some claimed to have seen the Inquisitor on the streets on Minrathos on rare occasions, sneaking into the heart of Trevinter to aid his Amatus.” It made me happy to know that the Inquisitor and Dorian stayed together. I wonder if that will show up with the 4th game.

⚠️Spoilers Over!⚠️

Speaking of the 4th game, who is excited to Dragon Age: The Veilguard, to be released later this year? I watched the gameplay trailer and I am excited for it! I hope characters from DAI will be in it (so far, Varric & Solas have been shown).

Drawn with sepia Sakura Pigma Micron pens, then coloured in with a mixture of Copic Markers, Ohuhu Markers, & Zenacolor coloured pencils. White accents done with a Sakura gel pen & the gold accents were done with Golden brand acrylic paint.

Dragon Age Inquisition/Dorian Pavus/Inquisitor Trevelyan © Bioware & Electronic Arts

Artwork © of me, Jacqueline E. McNeese