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bicycle4two · 2 years

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fine as we are, but we want more || Jason Todd x Female!Reader || Chapter 3 of 8

Summary:

all things considered, you're pretty lucky.

in all your years living in gotham city, you've never been mugged, never had your apartment broken into, never been held as a hostage.

until now.

it seems your luck has run out and there's nothing you can do about it other than wait for someone to come rescue you. . . .

or, jason and you reunite after a long time.

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Read on AO3

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Chapter 2

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Chapter 3:

Jason hates his past self a little bit for being so secretive.

Because if there’s one thing he wished Dick and the others knew about him, would mention carelessly in his presence, talk like he’s in on the joke, it would be how he’s connected to her. But alas, teenage him kept his cards close, made sure that no one knew about her. And it’s biting him in the ass because without a name to go off on, he’s stuck.

And it’s aggravating.

His therapist would probably encourage him to talk to someone about this, maybe to simply vent out his frustration, or maybe help jog his memory. Talking, it seems, helps most problems. Helps people understand where he’s coming from and vice versa. Communication is key, and all that jazz. Unfortunately, Jason still has the habit of keeping things to himself, not allowing himself to be vulnerable as often as he should be.

The others would understand. Sure, maybe they’d tease him about her, but not immediately. They’d listen. They’d offer to help. She still has her tracker with her, and it would be easy, almost too easy, for Barbara or Tim to find her even if she doesn’t press the alert button. But Jason doesn’t want them to know about her, to know of her before he’s even figured out who she is.

So, he waits. Annoyingly so, he doesn’t have any other option.

The red triangles on their map don’t go away no matter how many days pass and they have bigger problems to deal with than Jason’s mystery girl.

Because the Court of Owls is real, and although Mr. Freeze is locked up in Blackgate again, his Regulators are still out there, decked out in fancy, stolen gear, and there have been sightings of Clayface mimics all over the city, and now there’s a website for a “Dr. Q” that they have to keep an eye on.

There’s still so much to do and Jason doesn’t have the time.

But that doesn’t stop him from thinking about her. In the spare moments when the city’s finally quiet, the criminals he’s taken care of being loaded into armored trucks heading to Blackgate. He finds himself hoping that she’s okay, that she would not need to use the tracker again, that she’ll never have to.

But something in him hopes that she does press that button, even if she’s not in danger, preferably that she’s not in danger, because maybe there’s a possibility that she wants to see him, too.

…

There wasn’t even a need to pull his guns out of their holsters. The priority wasn’t the fight, but the organ the Mob had taken from an unfortunate medic. There was no saving her, but if Jason does this job right, he can hopefully save someone else’s life. The organ is placed behind some sensors and it’s easy enough to find the panel that controls it. He disables that first, only taking down two unsuspecting mobsters before he sneaks his way to the cyrogenic container. That part, that part was much harder.

Because although he loves to make it look easy, it truly is hard on the knees to remain crouched for so long, taking small, quiet steps towards his goal. But a mission is a mission, and his knees will survive.

He gets to the organ easily now that the sensors are gone and packs it when he’s sure no one is looking. Once he has it in his possession, he has to move quick. No time for thoughts. Just speed.

“Belfry,” he calls, already running to the street, calling for the batcycle to make its appearance. “I need keep this thing cold. Where can I drop it off?”

“Dr. Thompkins is on route to meet you.” Alfred supplies as he mounts the batcycle, revving the engine up.

“Got it. On the way.” Jason replies and speeds through the streets, haphazardly avoiding the GCPD on patrol. He’s got a minute and thirty seconds tops before the organ expires and he makes it to the mobile clinic with twenty seconds to spare. Thankfully there aren’t any goons terrorizing Dr. Thompkins this time.

“Thanks for the delivery. I’ve got a medical team lined up who can use it.” Dr. Thompkins says when Jason hands over the organ.

“Glad I got here in time, then.” Jason replies before zipping away the moment Dr. Thompkins has her back to him.

He lands on the roof of the next building easily, tucking his grappling hook away. He accesses his map and sees that the others are tackling other major crimes in the city and according to Alfred, they’ve got it covered. All Jason can do now is to patrol, stop crime when he comes across it.

Calling tonight a quiet night is a stretch, but at least he isn’t in a middle of a fight, having to reload his guns in mere seconds, in between punches and dodges.

He thinks maybe he should head back to the hideout he came from, take care of the mob he left behind but if they’re smart, they would have already realized that the organ is gone and that they’ve failed their task. They should be long gone if they know what’s good for them.

So, patrol it is.

He jumps off the roof without hesitation and starts leaping into the air, using his own soul energy to spring him upwards. He doesn’t get far because he sees her sitting on the edge of the roof of what he can only assume is her apartment building.

He acts before he thinks, instinct guiding his next move.

His landing is soft, but he holds his breath just in case she’s heard him, tries to erase his presence. Luckily, the sounds and sight of the city distract her, she doesn’t even feel his gaze on her back, and Jason feels himself relax before sneaking towards her. Again, his knees will survive and, well, he has Barbara’s physio in his contacts just in case they don’t.

He’s behind her in seconds, arm already positioned to catch her because who knows what her reaction is going to be, if she’s going to scream or jump forward, or maybe even swing around to punch him. The whole thing is irresponsible, a dick move, really, but like in their previous meeting, there’s this need to tease her, to scare her in some harmless way.

If she falls, and that’s a big if because he’s not going to let her, he’ll catch her.

“Whatcha looking at?” He asks and the way her shoulders seize up is worth it. The squeaking noise that escapes her lips is so inhumanly adorable that Jason wishes that he had recorded it. She whirls around to face him, so fast that she would have tipped over the edge if Jason’s arm wasn’t already there to stabilize her. She leans into him, brows furrowed when she sees that it’s him.

“Jesus.” She breathes out, eyes looking up at him, pupils dilated from fear or the dark, maybe even both. “Hello to you, too, Red.”

“Something interesting out there?”

“Oh. Nothing. I just, I just like being out here some nights.”

“It isn’t safe.” He says even though she was doing just fine before he appeared. The need to lecture her is strong. Because now that he thinks about it, what if it wasn’t him who snuck up on her? What if she had stretched the wrong way and had fallen? The images playing in his head makes his jaw clench. That’s the kind of stuff his mind loves to give him nightmares about. “Never mind that you wouldn’t survive the fall if you lost your balance, but with all the criminals running amok right now, you could find yourself in another hostage situation, or worse.”

“I have to watch out for mischievous vigilantes, too, right?” She frowns, arms folded across her chest. He should probably find it ironic that she’s wearing a red hoodie over what he can only guess are her pajama bottoms. He doesn’t comment on it. That’s something Dick would do.

“Oh yeah. They’re the worst.” He says easily.

“Clearly.” She rolls her eyes, smoothing her hair when a gust of wind blows it into her face. “There’s always some kind of risk here in Gotham. I can’t let that keep me from enjoying the little things.”

She gestures to the view she was admiring, and Jason takes it in, sees nothing but streetlamps, smog, and the glow of police sirens in the distance. The pollution in Gotham keeps the night sky starless and although he can acknowledge that the city has its charm, has beauty in the places you least expect to find it, he doesn’t think it’s worth risking your life over just to see.

“Couldn’t you just look out your window or something? This roof doesn’t even have railings.”

“That stupid building over there blocks the view,” she jabs her thumb towards the offending structure. “But okay. Noted. I won’t stay so close to the edge.”

“That’s all I ask.” Jason feels himself relax, flexing his hands to relieve some tension. “So, what made you want to go out tonight?”

The annoyed look on her face is quickly replaced with a sheepish smile. She stuffs her hands in the pockets of her hoodie and looks everywhere but at him. The mannerism is familiar, again, she’s familiar.

“I was hoping I’d see you, actually.” She admits. “You were a whole lot easier to see back in the day.”

“The Robin costume is unnervingly bright.”

“It had its charm. You could still pull it off, I think. Although I don’t know about the tights…”

“No. Just. No.” Jason can’t even bring himself to create a mental picture of that. “So, we’ve met. Before the whole Freaks incident.”

The teasing grin she had on her lips softens to a smile.

“Yeah. We have.” The smile turns sad, pained. “And you don’t remember.”

Jason hates that he’s the reason for that look on her face and the immediate response is to blame himself, but he can’t, he knows he can’t. His therapist would quickly point out that this isn’t his fault. That he didn’t exactly ask to have amnesia, didn’t have a choice on which memories he got to keep. And he knows this.

It still feels like shit though.

“A lot happened in the past few years.” He says by way of explanation. Which isn’t much if anything at all. “Got into some shit, came out not as whole as I was.”

Sometimes Jason forgets that not everyone knows how to react to his cryptic lines, that although he tries to make light of his situation, tries to shrug it off because it’s been years, he’s only moved forward from it, the fact of the matter is that he still isn’t over it. Not completely. Sometimes, he can’t hide how much he’s still affected by it. Sometimes, he says the shit he says just so someone would ask, and maybe then he’ll be ready to talk about it.

“I’m sorry that happened.” She says after a tense silence. It’s obvious she wants to say more, to ask, but she decides against it, luckily. Jason wouldn’t even know what to say right now. “I’m happy you’re back though. I…I missed you.”

And Jason doesn’t know what to do with that confession. Because on one hand, who isn’t happy to know that you’ve been missed while you were away, but on the other, he didn’t even know he had someone like her waiting for his return.

The guilt is there, again, among other things.

“It’s okay,” she scrambles to say when he’s been silent for too long. Her face is open, allowing him to read everything she’s not saying, that she doesn’t need to say out loud because somehow, someway, Jason is able to read her.

It’s okay, she says, it’s okay that he didn’t miss her. It’s okay that he’s forgotten about her.

“I just, I just wanted you to know. We were friends before,” she bites her lip, hesitates to say her next words. “I, I think it would be nice to be friends again.”

…

“So, the old tracker signal. She’s your friend?” Barbara asks over coffee, her posture overly casual.

“Great. Who told you?” Jason groans, leaning back into his chair, his own mug forgotten.

He thinks that maybe he should be grateful that this conversation is only being brought up now, days after he agreed to rekindle their friendship, days after he’s finally gotten used to having her back in his life, after he stopped beating himself up for letting a civilian in.

(He has to remind himself that his world can’t solely revolve around being a vigilante. That he can’t only have contact with people who fight with or against him. That he isn’t just Red Hood, but Jason Todd as well. Work-life balance and all that.)

Keeping up with their emails took longer to get used to, surprisingly, but now he checks his inbox more often, doesn’t ignore the messages that don’t come from the others or villains who mysteriously have his contact information.

He’s used to her now, enough that he can say that they’re friends. Maybe not like before, but they’re getting there. It’s new, different despite the lingering feelings of familiarity. It’s nice and is something to share, maybe, considering that he and the others are getting closer together in the wake of Bruce’s passing, working together both in and outside of uniform. He has a solid support system here in the Belfry and he knows that these people are people he can trust—that they’re family.

That still doesn’t mean he’s prepared himself to talk about her with them though. He thought that maybe they’ve already forgotten about the old tracker signal, but he should have known better. Their group isn’t one to forget such things and it was only too easy to connect the dots once the information was out.

Still. He really would have preferred not having to talk about this because he doesn’t want this to be a thing.

“A little birdie,” Barbara smiles. “How long have you known each other?”

“As Red Hood? A few weeks, several days maybe.” He shrugs like its nothing, like he doesn’t know the exact date they two started talking again. “As Robin though, a few years apparently.”

“Apparently? Oh. She’s from before…”

“I died? Yeah. Seems like the Pit took those memories, too. Didn’t recognize her when I saved her from the Freaks that time.”

Which was probably for the best. If Jason knew who she was back then, he probably would have been more careless in the fight, probably more aggressive. The Freaks got lucky.

“But she recognized you?”

So, this is going to be a thing. Jason’s going to have to talk about it, about her.

He wants to shoot down this conversation, and maybe if it were anyone else asking, he would but this is Barbara and, really, everyone here has a weak spot for her. He knows that if he were to say so, she would stop asking questions, but he can’t bring himself to because maybe he should talk about her. Get someone else’s perspective on things because God knows he doesn’t know what he’s doing with this newfound friendship.

“Not at first,” he replies, thinking back on an email thread detailing how they met. Try as he might, he really could not remember, and it was eating at him. She was pretty vivid with her explanation on the night they met, the memory obviously important to her, but, again, he draws a blank. Regrettably. “I said something to her that sort of clued her in.”

“Yeah?” Barbara is encouraging, expression open, welcoming any information he’s ready and willing to give. It’s a trap. It’s the face that coerces confessions. “What was that?”

No matter what, I’ll come to you.

The memory makes Jason physically cringe, the action so strong that Barbara is now looking at him with more curiosity, eyes calculating. Jason grimaces and tries to erase the words from his memory, tries not to remember how he said them but, in that moment, he can’t help but just focus on it. Have them repeat over and over in his head until suddenly a memory hits him.

He sees a room that obviously belongs to a young, teenage girl—it’s small, tidy, and there’s a rug with distinct footprints on it. (Probably from him. But who’s to say.) There are posters on her wall, posters he remembers making fun of if only because it was so obvious who she preferred in the teen pop boyband. There’s a table tucked in the corner of the room, her desktop screen illuminating the dark room.

She’s there in the room, too, but much younger, eyes bright yet tired. She stands close to him, their features lining up perfectly thanks to their similar height. It’s easy to study her from this distance, taking note of the little things that make her her. The slope of her nose, the arch of her brow, the way her cheeks flare when she realized how close they’re standing together.

Only the blush is quick to fade, the embarrassed look on her face replaced with worry, her brows knitting together, lips turned down. He knows this look. She’s thinking, over thinking. The keychain was supposed to reassure her, to let her know that he’s there to protect her, but he can see that although she understood this, she’s spiraling now, the what ifs consuming her thoughts.

She’s scared. The possibility of having to use it is terrifying.

But Jason had to give it to her, because ever since he’d become Robin, he’d seen just how truly dangerous Gotham can be. Seen things that made living on the streets seem like a picnic. And he couldn’t imagine, didn’t even want to think about, what would happen if she found herself in a situation where no one was there to save her.

He couldn’t let her get hurt. Not her. Never her.

So, he made a promise, something that made him burry his head into his pillow in embarrassment when he returned to the manor later that night, but he didn’t regret saying because he knew what it meant to her, knew that with just those words, because she trusted him, because she believed in him, she’d be okay.

“Jason?” Barbara calls, bringing him out of his thoughts.

He shakes the memory away, knows that he couldn’t have possible spaced out for that long, only long enough for it to be obvious he wasn’t totally there anymore. He picks up his coffee, it’s cold now, but he needs a distraction, needs to do something with his hands.

“It’s, uh, it’s nothing, Babs. Don’t worry about it.”

...

Chapter 4

#gotham knights #gotham knights video game #gotham knights!jason #gotham knights fanfic #gotham knights fanfiction #jason todd #jason todd reader #jason toddxreader #jason todd/reader #fanfic #fanfiction #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #no yn #red hood #red hood reader

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alexissara · 5 months

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I Am Hexed Volume 1 - Quick Review

I wish I liked I am Hexed but I don't. This comic's is sadly deeply flawed and even outside of the flaws I am not sure if the story would have been for me. I Am Hexed doesn't feel complete in a first read which makes sense it isn't it has a ending for book one but this is clearly meant to be a longer term project so in part I feel like I am judging it early but also I don't think I'd buy book 2.

I'll start positive and say there is really amazing talent across the board on this project, everyone on the book is great. I think there is a lot of potential in the concept of this story and there is clearly passion and love in this story. Making comics is hard and I am glad they made a comic even if it wasn't for me.

Okay so I said the nice things and now I can say my criticisms. The game is deeply entrenched in politics but has no real execution on these politics. We don't get a gran shifting political plot it's a girl on the run plot with the under pining of Washington D.C. as the back drop. Witches are kinda every single marginalized group but also the X-men and also they have some level of authority but also people basically can just do a hate speech on TV. There is a lot of name dropping witches into every moment in every time or whatever but it makes witches feel far less clearly fleshed out when they are kinda a metaphor for just oppression but also their magic and also the enemy is also a witch and also the witch advocacy group is a little bit evil but also they maybe aren't? The politics seem fairly left of center, ala Democrat with slogans at protests like "We Are Not Radical, We Are Magical" and I simply can't imagine a group of real life activists proclaiming their lack of radicalness post the shooting of a member of their group. They do these cut aways to fox news being bigoted and protests but these don't appear to be things the characters in the plot give a shit about at all. It is kinda like reading a book about queer people being hunted by queer people but because they were trying to stop oppression of queer people but randomly we cut into either homophobic debates or pro queer protests but it never figures into the actual plot. I think this is just a situation in which a lot was happening in the world when this was being written and as a writer myself I know there is a desire to comment on all of that so there was commenting on this stuff while also it just kinda doesn't interact with the plot at all.

I have no idea what Jaya's deal is, who she is as a person, what she wants, she is just Charlie's hot ex girlfriend who she seems to kinda get back with. Which I mean, I am all for cool magical hot ex girlfriends who the protagonist gets back with but I thought there would be more to her. She says early on that Charlie could work for her side of the circle, that isn't really explained because Jaya is not at all involved with "The Circle" the organization that Charlie's mom is the head of she doesn't know about Circle training or anything. I thought maybe Jaya was a more radical witch like an anarchist, a communist or something further to the left than Charlie's interacting with the system on it's level and believing in the Senator she worked for's ability to change the system from inside of it. Maybe they broke up because ideological differences or something but it's just confusing especially when something in the book is literally called The Circle. Also Jaya seems be pretty well off but how does she have money, we don't know, maybe she is a criminal master mind, I have no idea because the plot doesn't really get into it. I kinda get her ex boyfriends deal he's a lawyer, it's pretty clear on the tin what he is like, that he is a messy dude but ultimately a good one who cares about Charlie. Jaya I don't even have an idea for occupation other than she was or is in a coven which we don't really get to interact with much either.

I think this story boils down to an issue of too many ideas and not enough pages for those ideas and the way it was created gave it some wide gaps in time between issues to have a lot of things to say between issues for a small single issue of story to tell and still end up with an ending that like clears. Outside of that I found the shift in art a bit jarring, I like art style changes from time to time but typically I like a tonal reason for it to happen or a for it to happen between volumes or something but in the same flow of the story without a breath feels very jarring in the collected issues. I am aware this happens in comics regularly but it's been so long since I read like a story that was sold in single issues I still did find it a bit strange. I also think tone wise it feels a bit weird because this is written like it's for teens but also it's clearly made for adults. Like no teen is gonna care about the politics in Washigton D.C. especially a what now Gen Alpha kid. It really feels at home with a Millennial audience but it also kinda feels like it wants to be YA or New Adult or something when I think maybe it would have been better served aiming at just a firm adult audience.

Ultimately, it didn't work for me, I wish it did, I think the story does have a cast of characters who I would like to like, it has ideas I would like to engage with, it has concepts that are interesting but it sadly just misses the mark.

If you enjoy these reviews you can read more, I write lots of them and if you really enjoy them I can always use support over on Patreon and Ko-fi.

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georgeeliotworld · 2 years

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Having read some of George Eliot’s more well known novels, I was prepared to expect something modest from her debut, Scenes of Clerical Life, but I was pleasantly surprised by her confidence and maturity. One immediately recognizes her assured narrative voice and her remarkably incisive observations about human nature. (There are also brief but adorable descriptions about dogs in the second story that you will love.) I found myself recording a number of insightful passages and epigrams as I always do when I read a work by George Eliot. The book consists of three novellas. I felt they had a richness of experience that belie their brevity. In Janet’s Repentance, I did find it surprising that is so imbued with traditional Christian tropes given GE’s apostasy

Please skip the following general descriptions if you want to avoid any foretelling:

In the first novella, The Sad Fortunes of Reverend Amos Barton, George Eliot accurately depicts both the ugly and beautiful sides of human nature. She also speaks eloquently about our self delusions and how blindly we may live our lives until it is too late. It’s one of the saddest stories I have ever read, but well worth it.

Mr. Gilfil’s Love Story describes the landscape of love: how blind we can be in judging character and knowing what traits are most worthy, the abyss of jealousy & disappointment, and the depth of true love.

In Janet’s Repentance supporters of the established church oppose a rising Evangelical sect. It seemed to me that their acrimony is out of proportion to the doctrinal differences and ironically violates the tenets of their religion. The latter half focuses dramatically on the trials of the Evangelical pastor, a prominent lawyer who opposes him, & his wife Janet. Eliot’s portrayal of a woman trapped in an abusive marriage is quite memorable.

Memorable excerpts:

We are poor plants buoyed up by the air vessels of our own conceit: alas for us, if we get a few pinches that empty us of that windy subsistence! The very capacity for good would go out of us. For, tell the most impassioned orator, suddenly, that his wig is awry, or a shirt lap hanging out, and that he is tickling people by the oddity of his person, instead of thrilling them by the energy of his periods, and you would infallibly dry up the spring of his eloquence. That is a deep and wide saying, that no miracle can be wrought without faith - without the worker’s faith in himself, as well as the recipient’s faith in him. And the greater part of the worker’s faith in himself is made up of the faith that others believe in him... Thank heaven, then, but a little illusion is left to us, to enable us to be useful and agreeable – that we don’t know exactly what our friends think of us – that the world is not made of looking glass to show us just the figure we are making, and just what is going on behind our backs! By the help of dear friendly illusion, we are able to dream that we are charming – and our faces wear a becoming air of self possession; we are able to dream that other men admire our talents – and our benignity is undisturbed; we are able to dream that we are doing much good – and we do a little.

I wish to stir your sympathy with commonplace troubles - to win your tears for real sorrow: sorrow such as may live next door to you – such as walks neither in rags nor velvet, but in very ordinary decent apparel.

O the anguish of that thought, that we could never atone to our dead for the stinted affection we gave them, for the light answers we returned to their plaints or their pleadings, for the little reference we showed to that sacred human soul that lived so close to us, and was the divinest thing God had given us to know. Amos Barton had been an affectionate husband, and while Milly was with him, he was never visited by the thought that perhaps his sympathy with her was not quick and watchful enough; but now he relived all their long life together, with that terrible keenness of memory and imagination which bereavement gives, and he felt as if his very love needed a pardon for its poverty and selfishness.

In every parting there is an image of death.

One of the tortures of jealousy is, that it can never turn away its eyes from the thing that pains it.

There are a few of us that are not rather ashamed of our sins and follies as we look out on the blessed morning sunlight, which comes to us like a bright–winged angel beckoning us to quit the old path of vanity that stretches its dreary length behind us...

When Katerina reached the pretty arched wooden bridge which formed the only entrance to the Mosslands (the island home of beloved Mr. Bates) for any but webbed feet…🦆😁

The bulldog meanwhile, unbent from the severity of his official demeanor, and commenced a friendly interchange of ideas with Rupert (the bloodhound).😂 page 128

Animals are such agreeable friends – they ask no questions, they pass no criticisms.

Our thoughts are often worse than we are, just as they are often better than we are.

A mother dreads no memories- those shadows have all melted away in the dawn of baby’s smile.

Yet surely, surely the only true knowledge of our fellow man is that which enables us to feel with him – which gives us a fine ear for the heart pulses that are beating under the mere clothes of circumstance and opinion. Our subtlest analysis of schools and sects must miss the essential truth, unless it be lit up by the love that sees in all forms of human thought and work, the life and death struggles of separate human beings.

Mrs. Pettifer determined to go down and make a cup of tea, the first thing a kind old woman thinks of a solace and restorative under all calamities.

#george eliot

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sammystardust · 2 years

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woman in a dream . joshua m. kiszka

a/n: finally getting this one out!! this one is based on their song "always there", which i <33 so much, so of course, i had to write some josh fluff to it hehe. my requests are always open so if you like my writing and would like something, shoot me one! again, thank you so much if youre reading this!

pairing: josh kiszka x f!reader

wc & summary: {3.1k} in which a mysterious woman haunts josh's dreams & he finds her where he leasts expects it

warnings: none! just some sickeningly cute fluff :)

quick disclaimer: just a reminder that all my work is fiction and are in no way a reflection of the band nor their management! this is all just story-telling from my imagination lol

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

They began every so often, maybe occurring once or twice a week.

Then they spawned closer together, happening nearly every day. These dreams Josh was having were so real and lifelike, yet he couldn’t quite put his finger on them. They were taking a hold on his life, seeping into his mind during rehearsals and when he was out and about. He was constantly thinking about these mind-twisting dreams. They all centered around a woman, one whose face was muddled. He couldn’t exactly see or make out any distinct features of her face or figure, but he knew one thing for sure: the way she made him feel in every dream.

Josh was a hopeless romantic at heart. He adored watching all the romantic-comedies littered among Netflix and all other streaming services, whilst cuddled up to himself on the tour bus. He admired the relationships those closest to him were in, wishing he could spend his days in the arms and laughter of another being. Alas, being the front-man to a famous rock band, Josh was almost required to keep this identity of a livin’ through the fast life bachelor. Not that his feelings were regarded in this choice, but with the rest of the band off the market, the band’s PR team thought it would be a good move for the front-man to be unattainable, but right in reach for their female audience.

So, with this dream of this mysterious woman floating around his mind at all times of the day, he became quite attached to this person. There was no way to know if this woman was anywhere near him, also completely ignoring the fact that she may not even exist. The woman in the dream made his heart feel full, complete. He wanted her to be able to scout her out in the crowd at concerts to dedicate his loving thanks to. She brought an intoxicating happiness that made Josh excited to lay his head on his pillow after putting his all into an exhausting performance.

Josh knew absolutely nothing about this insentient being, but he was fully consumed by her and everybody around him noticed his changes in attitude. He was in a more blissful mood at all times, which came back to bite him at times as he was more susceptible to being caught lost in thought during times everybody else needed his attention…

“Josh!” Jake huffed in annoyance once again at his twin’s obliviousness. The band was at the recording studio, hoping new song ideas would ignite in their jam out session. Slouched over on a meditation pillow with his guitar resting on his knees, Jake’s hands were up in the air towards his brother, signaling sort of a “what the fuck” gesture. The present trio’s eyes on their lead singer as he finally snapped out of whatever trance he was locked into. “You missed your count in again!”

“He’s probably thinking about that fantastical, wondrous, fictitious lover of his!” Sam sighed out, putting emphasis on the words he would say were “big words his older brothers make up”. He lay the back of his hand on his forehead, tilting his head back, effectively mocking Josh. His small performance would earn a chuckle from Danny, a smirk from Jake, and a poker face from the now seemingly awake Josh.

“Look, you guys just don’t understand.” Josh attempted to fight back but was met with equally confused looks. He sighed and fell onto the couch that his younger brother sat on. Sam gave him a shrug and a pat on the back, as Josh hung his head low. They didn’t understand what was going on through his head, truly, but they did collectively grow a slight impatience for the eldest as his daydreams were getting the better of him.

“Maybe we don’t! But, it’s really getting into our time as a band, Josh. We’ve been having to remind you of simple things throughout this sesh, ” Jake butt in, finally putting his guitar back home on its stand. He ran his hand through his hair and stared up at the clock on the wall. Trying to immediately find a middle ground, he continued. “Look, it’s already 7 PM, how about you grab us some dinner to clear your mind and we’ll reset okay?”

“There’s actually this really great Chinese food place right down the street. Susie’s, I think. Maybe you can pick us up something from there?” Danny suggested, quickly earning some nods from the other brothers. Taking that as a signal to get himself up and out the door, Josh stood up and made his way out of the studio.

“Just take a look at the menu and shoot me a text of what you guys want,” Josh shouted over his shoulder before walking out of the room. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his brown bomber jacket, he began his trek to this restaurant that he hoped really was just down the street. To his surprise (or maybe not), Danny was right (which he was 99% of the time). Josh stood in front of the restaurant, which was clearly a hole-in-the-wall. His eyes glanced up to the simple white block letters that spelled out “Susie’s” before making his way inside.

A tiny bell tinkled following his entrance with a sweet and savory aroma instantly overcoming his senses. For everything that lacked on the exterior, the inside made up for it. Mahogany floors stretched throughout the quaint building and elegant watercolor paintings flooded the walls. Despite being low-lit within, he could make out the litter of people on the seemingly endless array of round tables that were squished together maybe just a bit too close to one another. A faint instrumental played among everybody, almost drowned out by all the chatter, but Josh could hear the music loud and clear.

“Hi, welcome! How can I help you?” A voice emerged from the crowd and suddenly, Josh’s heart picked up ten-fold. He could recognize that sweet voice from anywhere and surely, it couldn’t have been his mind playing tricks on him. Feeling a paralysis on his body come out of nowhere, thoughts raced through his head. This cannot be real. Is she real? You idiot, you need to answer her or else she’ll think you’re out of your mind. “Hey, are you okay?”

Four more words was all it took for Josh to finally turn towards the counter to his left. And there she was. There was never a clear idea of what she looked like at all but seeing her now was exactly how she was supposed to look. It was her, the woman in his dream. She sat on a high cushion stool cozily, swaying side to side on it. Her eyebrows furrowed in genuine concern as Josh’s eyes lovingly took in her appearance. A worn-out black cap was situated atop her head, loose strands of her hair poking out the front and sides. An oversized Zeppelin tee hung on her shoulders, and right on top of where her heart was stuck a rectangular sticker with a name and doodles scrawled on it. (Y/N)

“Y’know, some people say I sound like Robert Plant,” Josh blabbered out, pointing a finger towards her shirt. Oh, you are definitely an idiot now. That’s what you say? He thought as he immediately shut himself up as the response elicited an awkward giggle from the girl. She gave a smile to him that made his heart pound out of his chest and knees weak. He took his hand up to his curls, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. Feelings of warmth enveloped his heart while the embarrassment caught up on his cheeks.

“That’s actually really impressive,” She smiled, giving her shirt a quick tug. Josh walked closer to the counter, feeling like he was wading through water as the situation felt surreal to him. She was here all along, down the street. He still couldn’t entirely believe it.

“I’m sorry, I am doing alright! I didn’t mean to ignore you, if anything, my attention was on you!” Josh stammered, now some pink appearing swiftly on her cheeks at his indirect compliment. His eyes were slightly wider than usual and his hands were talking alongside him. He knew he was nervous, from his faster than usual talking and heart beating harder and louder than it ever has before. “I’m sorry, you are just really beautiful and (Y/N)? That is a gorgeous name, the sweetest name I have ever heard, hands down. God, I am so sorry. I will shut up now.”

Josh was internally hitting himself as he couldn’t have made a bigger fool out of himself in front of the lady. He was smoother than this, he knew how to keep his cool, but around her, he found himself to be a total mess. To his surprise, she let out a laugh so pleasing to his ears that he felt he could write so many melodies around it.

“Well, thank you. I think you just hit me with the most compliments per second,” (Y/N) nodded, giving an impressed look with the tint of pink even darker on her face. She swept a fallen strand of hair and tucked it back into her cap as Josh felt more buzzes within his pocket. “As much as I appreciate them, I don’t think my boss would enjoy me talking too much, so, what was it that I could help you with?”

“Ah, yes, I need to make a to-go order!” Josh exclaimed, remembering the reason why he was at the restaurant in the first place. (Y/N) nodded, a shy smile permanently residing on her face since this mysterious man walked in. She grabbed a notepad and a pen before looking back up into Josh’s eyes, noticing that they never left her face.

“Can I get a name for the order?”

“Josh.”

“A sweet name for such a sweet person,” She murmured under her breath, as she nervously looked back down towards the piece of paper to scribble it down. Josh perked up at her statement, a toothy grin appearing on his face as his heart fluttered even more. “What can I get for you, Josh?”

“Umm, here let me check,” He dug his phone out of his pocket, almost dropping it due to the nervous rush throughout his body from his name coming out of those pretty lips of hers. He almost lost himself again before he tapped his phone on, only to be greeted by a flurry of texts from all the boys, mainly his twin. Where are you? Sam’s getting antsy, needs food ASAP. Disregarding Jake’s questions, he scrolled up to where all their orders were and flipped the phone for her to be able to read off of it. She promptly jotted down their desired choices and turned her attention back up to the man in front of her. “Surprise me! I haven’t even looked at the menu if I’m being completely honest…”

“You’re all good! Lemme just,” Nodding in response, she wrote down another line of items, before ripping it clean from the pad and holding it up. “It’ll probably be like fifteen to twenty minutes tops. You can make yourself comfortable and I’ll bring it to you once it's all ready.”

Before Josh could say anything else, (Y/N) spun off the stool and disappeared into the patterned curtains that hung behind her, letting himself get a quick gaze of her back profile. Plopping himself down onto the chairs by the entrance, he felt a fond lightheadedness encompass himself. He was almost fully convinced that he was dreaming, pinching his arm multiple times to provide evidence, but no, this was real. For the past month, he was blessed with these dreams and now with her finally making an appearance in his life, Josh felt the feeling that every hopeless romantic hoped to feel. He was absolutely and utterly smitten. The woman of and in his dreams had sat before him and the feelings he was oh-so familiar with flushed his body: except this time he was awake to experience them.

“So, Robert Plant, huh? I would love to hear your impression sometime,” (Y/N) spoke, leaning against the counter, face resting on the palm of her hand. Josh snapped out of his thoughts to see the beautiful being once again, tilting his head up to look at her. Her hopeful face radiated a light that awoke a flame in his body.

“Yea, haha, I can also play a pretty mean tambourine, if that piques your fancy” Josh beamed towards her, enjoying the full attention she gave him. He also very much enjoyed the laughter he was able to elicit out of her. “I’m actually in a band with my brothers and a childhood friend of ours! You should check us out sometime!”

“Y’know, I might just have to.” (Y/N) smirked, relishing in the fact that meeting this interesting, odd man was the best part of her day so far, maybe even week. She couldn’t help but feel an attachment to him despite never meeting him before; his face only vaguely similar. Maybe he had ordered from Susie’s before or maybe he stood behind her in line at the grocery store before. There was no telling why she felt that way but all she knew was that in the moment, she wanted to become closer to him. Staring at his face and the way his curls bounced with every word he spoke, she was captivated with anything and everything he had to say.

Ding! The sound of a tap of a bell immediately pulled both Josh and (Y/N) out of their trances with one another. As quickly as she went back into the kitchen, she was back out holding a bag, bulging with delicious Chinese food. Josh took the bag from her and thanked her once again.

“I was able to sneak in some extra pot stickers, on the house,” (Y/N) winked, twirling a piece of hair between her fingers. “I also left you something else, written on top of your box of food, Josh.”

It’s almost as if Josh really couldn’t contain his excitement as he flashed her a genuine grin. Giving her a slight wave, he gave his final goodbye before leaving. “I’ll see you later, (Y/N).”

With one last smile and wave towards him, Josh made his way out with the food, hearing the bell tinkle once again. He pulled out his phone with his free hand and shot off a text to their band’s group chat. She’s real! Of course, his text was only met with a bunch of question marks and a snarky where’s my food from his younger brother. Shaking his head, he continued his short trek back to the boys in the recording studio.

Once he was back, he set the bag down in front of the boys, each promptly reaching for their box, leaving Josh’s at the very bottom. Removing it from the plastic bag, he saw the familiar scrawl written atop the brown box and couldn’t help but smirk and show off to the boys that she was indeed a real person, only to be met with the same laughter as before. It was alright now though because she was in his life and that’s what mattered to him the most.

can’t wait to hear your sick tambourine solo. xxx-xxx-xxxx <3 (y/n)

Josh’s chest heaved up and down as the closing notes to the song came to an end. From the stage, it seemed like endless waves of people, every single one giving their all to the band’s performance. The lights shone one him and he loved it all, taking in the moment to seal in his memory forever. As the song fizzled out, the roar of the crowd immediately took over, no silence to be found when moving on to the next song. Josh gave a hearty laugh, to which he could see her in the corner of his eye. Just the sight of her still caught his breath and could bring out the biggest of smiles to etch out on his lips.

She sat in one of the higher seated areas, right above the stage. Her hair was messy from joining the rest of the fans in rocking out to their music, having the time of her life during the concert. She gave a matching smile back to Josh, his heart taking flight in that moment.

“Can’t you guys just feel all the love in here! I know I definitely can!” Josh yelled out into the microphone, with various positive responses all intertwined together from the crowd. He reached an arm out towards her direction, fingers curled in a way that was almost asking her to take his hand. “Especially more so today, because about a year ago, my heart was blessed with the most beautiful, spectacular presence.”

Her lips pursed together, trying to hold back any tears. The past year of her and Josh together was a love she hoped every person in the world could experience. Not long after Josh left Susie’s with a bag full of food, (Y/N) received a text from an unknown number, quickly revealing itself to be the impressionable curly-haired man. Texting all the time instantly turned to calling which turned to meeting up as much as they could, which included as many silly tambourine solos dedicated to her whenever she wanted. He eventually did confess his dreams and how he knew in the moment that she was the one in them. All she could ever say was that he was genuinely crazy but so glad those dreams oddly brought him to her.

Falling for each other was probably the easiest thing both of them had ever done, maybe only staying in love with one another could top it. As much as the band’s PR team was against their front-man being taken, everybody could see that the pair were smitten and couldn’t be taken apart. Not only that but the fans adored her, despite their relationship being a bit more private with some posts about each other every now and again. After leaving Susie’s, (Y/N) became accustomed to the touring life pretty quickly, assimilating easily with the help of her partner and their welcoming band, as well as their respective partners. She was always there for Josh, supporting his work in every way possible and vice versa.

“To thank her for the light she has brought into my life, our next song is for her,” Josh spoke gently, still staring up at her in the crowd. The fans immediately went crazy, some pointing up towards her and others “aww-ing” at his sweet endearments for her. (Y/N) smiled back, mouthing an “I love you” with a tear or two hanging on her cheek. A countdown played, followed by her favorite sound in the world.

You’ve been waiting for your lover…

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

#josh kiszka #joshua michael kiszka #josh gvf #joshua kiszka #gvf #greta van fleet #fluff #gvf fluff #gvf fic #josh kiszka fic #josh kiszka imagine #gvf imagine #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet imagine #jmk #sammystardust

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sukirichi · 3 years

Text

reckless [02.]

With a lackadaisical playboy as your boss, being reckless wasn’t an option. But on the one time you let loose and made mistakes, your life is shattered, and now you’re playing house with your insufferable boss who is the father of your baby.

✘ cw. angst, toxic situations

✘ note. yes, feel free to scream at me in the asks. but like don’t worry, i promise there’s more to come and there’s more to happen! it’s going to get fluffier as we go hehehehe. ALSO, I can’t help but feel that Zayn’s “Let Me” speaks perfectly to CEO playboy Gojo. hmph.

one ✘ two ✘ three

One glance at the tall man beside you, and you would’ve thought he would pass out soon.

Satoru had been endlessly fidgety hours before the appointment. Flicking from music stations to another, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel or sighing at the sight of you calmly watching the city go by in a flash – it was clear he was restless. Judging from the dark circles he tried to conceal under a pair of shades, he probably hadn’t slept much last night as well.

Now that you were both inside the clinical room, with you laying back down on the reclined bed, belly exposed and all for him to marvel at, his knee hadn’t stopped bouncing. “Satoru, calm down. It’s just a doctor’s appointment.”

“Sorry,” he apologized sheepishly, rubbing his sweaty palms on his pants. “I’m just…excited yet nervous, you know? It feels so real now.”

Real didn’t begin to cover it. Although you masked your nervous quite well, you felt your stomach tighten when a woman came in. Her smile was gentle and comforting enough, talking you both through the process and spilling little fun facts about pregnancy. She applied a cool gel over your belly before turning to a screen, where mixed dots and waves of black and white blurred in front of your visions. Your eyes widened in awe, throat dry from the inability to speak. The baby had always felt real, but seeing it with your own two eyes, a small figure barely even a comprehensible shape in the screen, you couldn’t help but tear up a little.

“That’s mine?” Satoru breathed out, absentmindedly looping his hands through yours. It made you stiffen for a quick second, but your attention was quickly pulled back to the sonogram. “We made that?”

Your heart clenched at his words.

He sounded so happy – like all his dreams came true and you’d just given him a gift that was beyond priceless. You supposed it really was; a baby was always a miracle and joy to have, but this child wasn’t made out of love. How could he have so much fondness for something he didn’t want in the first place?

“The baby is perfectly healthy. This pregnancy doesn’t seem like a high-risk one, but it’s too early to tell so we’ll keep checking in on you,” the doctor pushed her glasses back to her nose, the sound of her cool voice pulling you back from a dangerous path of self-doubt and wariness. “Do you guys want to know the gender?”

Glancing at Satoru, you shook your head. It was amusing that you didn’t need to share words before he got the meaning behind one look, and he squeezed your hand as if to say he understood.

“I’d like that to be more of a surprise. Thank you, doctor.”

“Congratulations on being a father, Sir,” she bowed, and it occurred to you just now she was probably a family doctor. Satoru did end up keeping his promise that your pregnancy be kept private for a while. This little detail made you turn to him with shock written all over your face, though his attention was centred in on the swirling monochrome colours on the screen. Whether the doctor noticed the brewing tension between you two or not, you were still gad when they bowed once more to excuse themselves. “I’ll leave you two to talk now.”

The moment she was gone, you sat up and pushed your blouse down. Satoru’s demeanour had changed as well. His smile was wiped from his face, replaced only by a slight downturn of his lips.

Sighing, you swung your legs over the bed, not minding one bit that he was inches away from resting his chin onto your thighs. “Is there something you’re not telling me? You’ve been so worried since we got here.”

Satoru winced.

“Am I that obvious?”

“Even if you aren’t, it’s not that hard to see through you,” you spoke gently, a spirit possessing you because there would’ve been no other logical reason on why you placed a palm over his. Satoru’s hands were warm and large as he cupped your knee, tracing little patterns over your jeans as he kept his gaze lowered to the floor. It was an odd sight to see; that the Gojo Satoru refused to look a woman in the eye. “Tell me. What’s wrong?”

Satoru’s sigh is painfully drawn out, though his chuckles took the brunt.

“I don’t know what to do – how to be a father, I mean. Don’t you ever get worried…that maybe we might fuck up and ruin someone’s life?”

“Hey,” you cupped his cheek, forcing him to look you in the eyes – which you really wished he didn’t, because you’d never seen such azure this up close before. It was no secret that his eyes alone stole the hearts of people, but you had to remind yourself he broke them as well, so that you pulled away right before he got too close for comfort. It wasn’t what he needed anyway. Satoru simply required reassurance, so you opted for an awkward pat on the shoulder. “Weren’t you the one telling me the other day we’ll work it out?”

“Yeah, but…”

“But what?”

“It’s nothing,” he shook his head, a smile lighting up his features once more. “Are you feeling good? There’s someplace I want to take you, as a celebration for our healthy baby.”

You pursed your lips. As much as you appreciated his enthusiasm, this ‘celebration’ didn’t sound like a good idea. You’ve made mistakes before and now you lived the consequence of it; being reckless was outdated. Caution, wariness, and space were the top three perfect recipes for the complete opposite of a disaster.

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“Why not?” he challenged, taking your hand in his as he guided you out the clinic. You made no comment on why he led you out the back where he’d parked his car, even going as far to bow for you as he opened your door. “Liven up a little, we got good news today! Plus, we didn’t both take a day for nothing. Come on, you’re going to have fun, I promise you!”

“And where would we go where people won’t recognize you?”

“Somewhere people are too lost in their own world to focus on others,” Satoru announced before sending you a side glance, smooth hands already on their way to rev the engine.

This wouldn’t go down well. Or at least that was what you wanted to believe, because his smile and excitement were too contagious that you couldn’t restrain the smile you wore.

“A carnival? Really? We’re too old for this.”

“We’re never too old for anything,” he insisted, placing his hands on your shoulders as he maneuvered from stall to stall. Everywhere around you, children and people of all ages milled by, laughter and screams that fading into the distance. One survey at the long, endless lines for the rides and crowded spaces, you grimaced, feeling an uncomfortable weight resting on your shoulders that was beyond Satoru’s hands. “Aw, come on, don’t be such a bore. Day offs like these are rare and think about the baby! Don’t you think they would’ve wanted us to get a long?”

“You’re just using the baby as an excuse to have fun.”

Of course he would – Gojo Satoru was like a man-child. Whether it was someone randomly bringing donuts or puppies into the office, he easily lit up like a firework, seemingly finding joy in every little thing. Being stuck in the office and forced to work his ass off under your supervision must’ve taken a toll on him too.

Add on the fact he hadn’t gone out on dates or parties ever since he found out he was going to be a dad, the desperation to go out and do something was written all over his face.

Satoru pouted. “That’s mean. Take that back.”

“No.”

“And I’m the childish one here?” he snickered. You merely rolled your eyes at him and gave in; too much time spent working and not enough time relaxing (not that being a carnival was your definition or relaxation, but alas, Satoru was dragging you around everywhere like always) wouldn’t be good for the baby.

“You see that bear over there? I’m going to win that for you. It could be my first ever present for our baby.”

There was no stopping him. You didn’t want to, either, because you just stood there, arms crossed against your chest as you let him do whatever he pleased. A literal man-child, a youthful soul stuck in an irritatingly attractive man’s body – these were the thoughts that ran through your head while Satoru kept swinging his arm back and forth. He chose a stall where you had to knock down stacks of cans down with one set of three balls, all because he wanted to win a bear. You would really rather go home than watch him fail four times now, but he wasn’t giving up, only flexing his shoulders before gesturing to the young man.

“Hey man, three more balls please.”

Nothing was funny about it at all. Watching your boss fail miserably even after ten tries shouldn’t have been so hilarious, yet sweat was dripping all over his face and his patience was hanging on a loose thread that you were giggling before you knew it.

His usual confident bravado began to tear down bit by bit, his face flushed from the sounds of your teasing.

“Satoru, stop,” you laughed, “We’ve been here for twenty minutes and your wallet might as well be empty! You can just go buy a bear at the mall.”

“You’re too functional. Where would be the meaning behind it if I just bought a random bear?” he huffed, pushing the sleeves of his denim jacket up to his elbows. Determined now more than ever, he even stretched his long arms side to the side with a shake of his hips. You could tell the young man manning the stall was hiding his amusement by whistling to himself, but Satoru really was such a ridiculous sight you couldn’t blame him. “No, I’m going to get that for you, then I’ll brag to my baby how cool their dad was when he knocked those cans down.”

“You mean, if you knock those cans down.”

His shoulders deflated. “Support me a little bit, will you?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, it might just inflate your ego and you’ll be too distracted by yourself to ever actually knock those cans down,” He threw a ball with a force so strong it hit the curtain above the cans, and it bounced back somewhere below the tables. It didn’t even touch the can by a smidge, and you snorted. “See what I mean?”

Expecting that Satoru would take insult to heart (as his ego was easily wounded, this much you knew when he refused to talk to anyone at the office for a whole day because one of his directors forgot his name) you smirked at him, but that smirk immediately dropped when he grinned back at you. He was no longer wimpy like before, an aura of confidence brimming from him. “That’s like the second time you’ve told me I was distracting,” he mused, leaving you baffled because he was right. “On the contrary, I think you’rea lot more distracting, so I take that back. Just stand there and watch me win.”

“Okay,” you drawled out in faux disinterest, thankful for the corny carnival music and chatter from the crowd that he couldn’t hear your poor beating heart.

You were too focused on pretending to be unbothered by him that you failed to see how the cans were knocked down. The counter guy was already picking them up as Satoru pumped his fists in the air, way too much like a child high on sugar.

Was this really the father of your baby?

“I won! I fucking won! That huge brown bear, please!”Satoru’s smile from holding the bear that was half his size couldn’t even compare to the city lights and sparklers. Even his eyes were lit up in joy as he skipped back to you, happily waving the doe-eyed bear in front of you. At your lack of reaction, he sighed before jutting his cheek out to you. “No congratulations kiss?”

“How about a slap?”

“Kinky,” he teased, sending your brain to overheat when he tapped his chin in thought. “Well, you did make my back bleed so I kind of got the idea you’re sort of extreme in bed – ow! Would you please stop hitting me? I just won you a wonderful prize and your first reaction is to hit me! This arm is exhausted from swinging endlessly, you know.”

“Maybe if you aimed better, you wouldn’t have had to exhaust yourself. Like I said, you could’ve just bought a bear,” you scolded, raising your arm threateningly when he opened his mouth again. Idiot. “Give me that.”

Satoru effortlessly swung the bear until it was under your chins, his white lashes ethereal as he peeked at you through them. He was close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath dusting on your cheeks, that same warmth that had been mixing with yours in a sloppy, heated kiss just weeks ago. “And who said I was letting you carry this?” he taunted, thoroughly enjoying how for once, you weren’t hitting him.“I’m supposed to wave this around proudly then place it in our baby’s room when we get home. Besides, your hand looks heavy already.”

“My hands? Wait, what do you mean our baby’s room?”

At your words and questioning gaze, Satoru did a quick turn, trying to use the bear as a shield.

“Yeah, I forgot to tell you,” he scratched the back of his head awkwardly, “I may or may not have had my parents’ guest room renovated as a baby room, although if you ask me, I think moving somewhere else would be much better. Raising a child in a penthouse doesn’t seem like such a great idea if you ask me,” opening your mouth to scold him, Satoru stopped you by placing a finger on your lips, noses grazing against each other. “Don’t scold me right now; I know that look on your face and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, okay? We can still decorate it ourselves. I just had the beds removed and the space cleaned out. Now stop over thinking and let me help you with your problem.”

You pushed his face away for the sake of your heart. In fact, you should be paid for your acting skills for looking so unaffected.

“What problem?”

“Your hands look heavy,” he beamed, long fingers looping through yours as he swayed them side to side. “So let me carry it for you.”

“Satoru, I—”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he blinked innocently while surrendering his free hand, “I’m not doing this for you, it’s for the baby. Did you know oxytocin is released and makes you feel good and reduces pain, maybe even stress? We can pump your oxytocin levels through touch. It also lowers your blood pressure, and we want you at your happiest and healthiest for this pregnancy, right?”

“Since when were you an expert on this?”

“Since I found out I’m becoming a dad,” his words struck you speechless, mouth pressed into a flat line as you stared him openly. You hadn’t mean to come off as rude in that moment; you were just trying to gauge the sincerity behind his words, to explore the depth in his eyes, but Satoru must’ve took it wrong as he cleared his throat, “I can let go if you really want me to.”

“N-no! It’s fine…can we move? We’ve been standing here for ten minutes now,” Embarrassed, you pointed to the closest thing in your sight – a photo booth. “How about there? That looks fun.”

Satoru followed where your arm was pointed, laughing when a couple exited the red curtains while giggling amongst themselves. The guy even leaned down to steal a long kiss from his lover, and if you were embarrassed before, you wanted to crawl into a hole and never come back again right now. “You know, if you wanted me to be stuck in a cramped space next to you, you could’ve just said so. I didn’t bring the limo with me, but the Audi could be pretty small for us, I guess…”

You hissed at him in warning, “God, you never shut up do you?”

“It made you smile.”

“I wasn’t smiling!”

“Sure, mommy, whatever you say,” bumping his hip with yours, Satoru led you inside the cube. There were a plethora of filters to choose from; ranging from heart frames and ones that placed shades on your face. Not really thinking of what to pick, you reached out to press the frog hats one, but Satoru was swatting your hands away for the effect with heart emojis everywhere. “This is cute. We can show this to our baby once they’re born.”

“They won’t really know what a Polaroid is, Satoru.”

“It’s still sentimental!” he grumbled before clicking the camera icon, a huge smile already on his face until he saw you squished on the other side of the booth. Only one side of your ear could be seen, and Satoru furrowed his brows at you. “Come closer, you’ll be cropped from the frame.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Jesus, Y/N, don’t act shy now, I already fucked a baby into you,” mouth falling open at the vulgarity of his words, Satoru took the chance to drag you beside him. “Relax, you’re always so stiff. Our baby might come out frowning if you keep huffing like that.”

“You’re too close for comfort.”

“My apologies, I’ll try not to be included in the photo when you’re the one who suggested this in the first place,” he muttered playfully, booping your nose before he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. He was close, too close, that his musky perfume filled the close space. You wanted to lean closer to his warmth and sturdiness of his broad shoulders; his mere presence bringing about a sense of tranquillity despite your words. You told yourself it shouldn’t be too bad to lean into him for just a little while, absentmindedly following him as he cheers, “Smile!”

One photo turned into two, and Satoru ended up inserting a few more bills into the slot to take more. He tried out as many filters as he wanted, acting as if you two had been long time friends from how easy it was for him to be around you like that.

You supposed it came from his heavy experience with women. You were so unlike; while he was open to touch and didn’t care too much about space, you craved it deliriously.

It was obvious none of this meant anything to Satoru. You were probably just another woman in his life, with the exception that you had a kid, but you couldn’t mean something more. If anything, he treated you more like an old friend than a lover. He’d said it himself before that you weren’t his type and you didn’t mind, so why did it hurt the longer you mulled about it? Sure, you may not be as attractive or luxurious as his previous lovers, but did you really not even have charismatic pull? Is it because you weren’t his type that he was so casual with you, while you on the other hand, felt like you would lose your mind at every little thing he did?

You watched as Satoru pulled out his wallet and kept the Polaroid of you both grinning at the camera, forming a silly heart shape with your hands per his request. It was silly and platonic – yet the gesture confused you to no end.

“Why’d you do that?”

Satoru’s hand paused. “Am I not allowed to…?”

“We’re not lovers. You can’t just put a photo of us in your wallet.”

As if to prove a point, Satoru pulled out more photos of his wallet and showed it to you. There were several more wallet-sized photos, mostly of his white cat with black shades, another of him and his best friend, Shoko, and the last photo was of him skiing. They were all placed in his wallet along with a small, faded out photograph of what seemed to be his parents from the younger days. You couldn’t understand why he was showing you this, much less how patient he was as he smiled softly at you. “It’s memorabilia. I keep photos of everyone I care about everywhere with me,” he said, pocketing his wallet back before gazing up at the night sky. “I like to think we’re friends, at least. We’re definitely not just boss and employee anymore.”

Then what are we?

There were so many things you wanted to ask. You always knew he was always this overly friendly and nice, but what did make you? What did a friend mean to him? Other than Shoko, who was his lesbian friend who was also the company’s resident doctor, you’d never seen him be platonic with another female before.

The realization made your mood drop.

Maybe you were right. He probably didn’t even see you as a woman, but what did it matter? You didn’t like him. You shouldn’tlike him. Even if he had no intentions of wooing you, Gojo Satoru was far too appealing for his own good. Being around him was dangerous for your heart.

“Wanna ride the ferris wheel? The night city always looks beautiful.”

He was just your boss...and you were just a friend. Things were going to be alright as long as no feelings were involved. You survived seven years of working with him with not a single moment where your heart fluttered when he spoke your name; a baby made between you shouldn’t change anything now. At the end of the day, you were both only doing this out of responsibility. Satoru was trying his best to become a supportive co-parent to you, and that was all it ever would be. Strictly business – purely professional – as it always had been and always will be.

Foolish girl, you could hear a voice whisper at the back of your head, don’t get too lost in his eyes.

“Y/N, are you tired? Do you want to go home now? We can just order dinner to be delivered if you’re exhausted,” Satoru tugged at your sleeve to get your attention, and you chuckled awkwardly, not meaning to have spaced out the whole time. Worry was written all over his face from the way his brows dipped, stunning blue eyes darkening like the night sky you both made memories under.

Don’t look at me like that...

“Are you okay? Do you wanna go home?”

“Yeah,” you chirped far too brightly than you would’ve liked. Right now, it was more of a mission of fake it til you make it. You would just have to keep exerting the same amount of effort into making this work for the baby’s sake. And if that meant pushing aside any budding desire for this to last any longer to focus on your ‘friendship’, then you would do it. Taking Satoru’s hand for the first time since the baby ordeal, you flashed him a genuine smile. “The ferris wheel sounds nice. Let’s do some sightseeing before the night ends.”

Neither of you speak inside the cab. Beautiful the night was as the city shone into awakening illumination beneath you, comforting you with the thought that in the grand scheme of it all, you were small. Insignificant. That somehow everything you worried about wouldn’t matter when there was a much bigger world out there, and you were but a fickle dot in the middle of its entirety. But that was you, and Gojo lived in a much different world than you did. For somewhere in the city, you could recognize several of the sky towers, buildings, and establishments owned by his family. He mattered in the grand scheme; you were a small factor in his world.

Glancing back at the man who’d been silent the whole ride, you smiled upon seeing that he was doing the same. Satoru was practically bouncing in his seat as he snapped several photos of the city, mumbling something about he’d never seen this view before.

He was so innocent yet so out there, igniting within you an urge to take care of him and wanting to be taken care of by him.

You’d already accepted that you may just never have him that way. That small, fleeting crush was like a butterfly – pretty look at, but damn near impossible to catch. You’d already stopped crying yourself to sleep over the new changes brought about in your body, that in a few months’ time, you’d look back into everything and see that everything had changed. The mistakes you made that night were still something you regretted because you wished you could’ve done better, but seeing him right in front of you now, there was only gratefulness blooming within. Grateful that he was right by your side, grateful that at least the father of your child was more than capable of giving them a comfortable life, grateful that he didn’t push you away like you expected.

Acting more on impulse than logic, you leaned over to press your lips on his cheek.“Thank you,” you mumbled, eyes closed as you let your lips stay there for a few more seconds.

His skin was warm underneath your touch, and when you opened your eyes, Satoru was gazing up at you with stars twinkling in the vast galaxy he called his eyes. You smiled at his reaction, watching as he reached a palm out to caress that spot your lips had landed.“For what?”

“For everything,” you crumbled,“You’re not a bad person, Satoru, I know that,” with shuddered breaths, tears sprung at the back of your eyes again. “I’m sorry for being so difficult. I just need time to adjust to…well, all of this.” Your voice cracked at the last sentence and you were crying before you knew it, face hidden behind your palms in fear he’d look at you differently. In his eyes, you were always his stoic secretary who didn’t even bat an eye when people gave you backlash after Satoru hired you despite the lack of a college degree.

This all felt new – to cry, to trust, to rely on someone – and there was a flurry of emotions you couldn’t quite place yet.

Scooping you into his arms, Satoru patted your back as your cries grew louder. “Take all the time you need. We don’t have to rush into anything at all.”

In the harsh world of conglomerates where the laws of business blurred thinner and thinner with each day, it was hard to believe that not rushing into anything would be possible. It was always a flurry of hurried phone calls, frantic preparations for emergency meetings, anxiety over presenting new proposals and hoping that your superiors would sign your documents so you could go about your way. Time was as imperative as money was to them, but Satoru had proved he could be beyond that.

From the moment you met him, he never treated time as if it was something that slipped through his fingertips. He enjoyed every second he had of his life, and perhaps that was why you hated him so much in the first place.

You thought he took everything for granted, when in reality, all he did was bask in the little things life offered.

This much, at least, you trusted him with. If he said there would be no need to rush and you could both take it slow, he meant it. Around him, time felt more like a secret whisper than a treasure you both had to seize to protect. The night drifted off until it was already midnight and the crew was ushering all visitors out. You and Satoru made it home safely and quietly, hands linked together as if it was the most natural thing ever. No rush, you kept telling yourself, and you plopped down on the couch heavily as you let your muscles relax from such a long, eventful day.

You stayed there for a solid minute or so when you felt warm hands take your heels off. Opening your eyes, Satoru kneeled before you, his fingers expertly rubbing and pushing against the sore muscles of your feet. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Your feet must be tired from all that walking,” he mumbled, looking up briefly to meet your eyes and tease your shoulder back. “Lean back for me. I’ll take care of you.”

Judging by the sentiment behind his smile, you figured it wouldn’t be harmful to enjoy this at least once. You’ve never gotten foot massages before but his hands kneading yours felt heavenly. You knew from experience beforehand that Satoru was quite godly when it came to the skills and magic his fingers brought, though this one was on a different level, and you were sinking deeper into the couch from the bliss. He was right; you were tired, and if having your boss massage you like this every night after dragging you wherever he pleased, then you wouldn’t complain.

The ringing of your phone made you sit up abruptly, surprising Satoru whose head you almost knocked into. “Sorry,” you croaked out sheepishly, “It’s my dad. I need to take this.”

“Do you need me to leave you alone?”

“Uh, no, you’re fine.”

Satoru gestured to your foot as you took the call, mouthing, “Should I continue?”

“Yes, please,” you answered back, palm pressed over the mic before you answered. “Hey, Dad!” Your father greeted you back with much enthusiasm, his energy heard even by Satoru who sent you small smiles and curious glances every now and then. A part of you wanted to ask if he was fine kneeling on the floor like that, but his knees were on the fur carpet anyway that it shouldn’t hurt him. He extended your leg and trailed up your calves, pulling a soft moan from you when he kneaded the flesh and rid it of its knots. His ministrations distracted you until you were nodding absentmindedly to your Dad every now and then, not really paying attention to what he was saying.

Then the call ended, and his last words kept ringing back into your head ominously. Satoru took quick notice of this as he tapped your knee, bringing your attention back to him. “Is something wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I...” you started, helplessly fumbling around Satoru. “My dad is in Tokyo. He said he wants to have dinner with me.”

“You don’t look particularly happy about that. Do you not want to meet your father?”

“I do but...”

“But?”

“I have to tell him about this,” you shivered, refracting your legs back to the couch until his touch disappeared from your skin. For a moment, you had the urge to crawl back to his heat, but you were restless, agitated. “About us. He’s going to want to meet you and I don’t want to hide the pregnancy from him either,” Satoru remained unmoving as you rambled, and you hid your face behind your arms again as you remembered the rules you asked him to follow. “Listen, I’m sorry if I sound unfair right now, I know I said I didn’t want anyone else knowing—”

Warm lips brushed over your knuckles, large hands peeling your wrists to reveal your face. “Hey, it’s fine. He’s family and you can tell him. It’s not like your Dad would ruin your image or something like you expected to happen.”

“He won’t but...” you frowned, “My dad isn’t going to like this. I can’t guarantee he’ll be civil the whole time, especially towards you.”

“You told him about me?”

“A few years ago, yeah, when I still couldn’t tolerate you.”

“So you can tolerate me now?”

“Only a little bit,” you corrected, pushing his hands away as you opened your phone to check your schedule. It was mostly Satoru’s schedule, truth be told, but you were free for the most part tomorrow. Satoru could just longue back in his office while you clocked out early to meet your dad. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. On second thought, he doesn’t have to know at all. I’m only a few weeks in and it’s not like he’ll notice—”

“Y/N,” Satoru interrupted you, rudely snatching his phone from your shaking fingers. You would’ve scolded him had he not sounded so worried. “I did promise I would take responsibility for you, right? I want to meet your dad and introduce myself properly. As a father-to-be, I think I can somewhat understand that he might react strongly to this, but I also need to reassure him you’re in safe hands,” taking your hand in his, Satoru leaned into your palm, the smile he wore way too charming than what your heart could handle. “As long as you’re okay with it, I would like to meet him.”

“I’m sorry if he does something stupid.”

“Don’t be,” he reassured with a chuckle. “I’m sure everything will go well.”

It didn’t go well. Your father wasn’t throwing a fit or causing a scene like you originally feared, but the current situation wasn’t any better either. He looked like he was on the verge of tearing Satoru’s head apart, his grip on the bread knife so tight his knuckles flashed white. Your father was the literal definition of unpredictable and out of nervousness, you held Satoru’s hand under the table for comfort.

In complete opposition of yours, Satoru handled it with class and composure. His head was ducked down in respect, making sure to be curt and precise in counters to your father’s harsh accusations.

“I’m really sorry for everything, Sir.”

“Did you ruin my daughter’s life?”

Satoru finally tilted his head back up to look your father in the eye, both your hands turning cold and sweaty in between the seats. “Pardon?”

“I asked if you ruined my daughter’s life by getting her pregnant.”

“I would never intend for that to happen, Sir,” Satoru straightened up. From your perspective, he looked every bit the man parents would want their children to be with – handsome, elegant, educated, polite, respectful and well-off – but your father was no ordinary parent. He sized Satoru up like a predator hunting his prey even as the latter acted cool about it. “Granted, it was an accident and neither of us are prepared for this, but I promise I’ll take care of her. I take responsibility as the father and you have nothing to worry about.”

Your dad slammed his palms down on the table, the loud smack catching the attention of nearby tables. “How dare you tell me I have nothing to worry about?”

“Dad, please don’t do this.”

“No, he needs to know,” he snapped. Unable to help it, you groaned inwardly and scooted closer to Satoru, knowing where this was leading. “I lost her mother right after she was born; raised her by myself when I was barely out from high school. Rich men like you may never understand the struggles of taking care of a baby all by yourself, but I did everything I could to make sure she grew up well. My daughter had a happy, comfortable life. When she told me she wanted to follow her dreams in Tokyo, I supported her, and then you go take everything away from her because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself? You dare defile her like that?”

“Dad!” you roared, clutching Satoru’s hand who’d gone limp. “It was equally my responsibility as it is his! I wanted this; we both got carried away but we’re doing our best, so please stop being difficult to us.”

“You wanted this?” he laughed dryly, “A child with this man you kept moaning to me about; the same man who went to clubs every night while he left you all by yourself to work, to clean up his mess from him? You wanted him?”

“Dad,” you gritted your teeth, nails sinking down onto your thigh. Satoru remained silent between you both, although you could feel his burning gaze penetrating through the back of your skull. “It’s both our mistake. But this child...we don’t see it as that. We like to view it as a blessing. It may be true we harbour no affection for one another, but we want to be good parents. That’s all you need to know and I find no reason to explain myself to you. If you have nothing else to say, you can go back home. I’ll pay for your ride,” slamming down a few bills his way, you glared at your father, who shrunk back at the anger radiating off of you. “You’re not welcome here, Dad. Just go back home.”

“I’m just worried for you.”

“You don’t have to. I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“I never said you were,” he sighed, rubbing the sides of his temples. “But he just took all your opportunities away from you! What about your dreams? What about your plan of having your own career once you have enough experience? What about—”

“Are you implying that because I’m pregnant, suddenly I’m not qualified to fulfil my goals?”

“Sir,” Satoru cut you off, releasing your hands as he leaned forwards on the table, becoming more and more like the CEO he was trained to be – all authority and gentle command that won the hearts of multiple investors. “I assure you that I won’t be holding your daughter back from the things she wants to achieve. As her co-parent, I’m perfectly capable of supporting her in the dreams she wishes to achieve. I’ve worked with her for years; I know she can reach for the stars if she wanted.”

Your mind blanked.

“Young man, don’t talk to me as if you know my daughter better than I do,” your father scorned, “I’m not questioning your capability to support her, but what about your credibility? How can you assure me you’ll really be there for her? How can you assure me you won’t leave my daughter stranded in the middle of nowhere? How can you assure me you can protect her from the harsh criticism of society? Money can’t provide nor does it solve anything,” your father copied his gesture by leaning forward, but it was to poke Satoru’s chest. “From what I’ve heard about you, I suppose you understand perfectly well why I don’t trust you.”

“Sir, I do plan on marrying your daughter and to give her the life she deserves,” Satoru confessed, effectively stealing from you the ability to speak as he glimpsed your way. “If she lets me.”

“You’ll marry her? Be faithful to her as your wife and have a family? Are you sure you can do that?”

“Yes, Sir, I’m highly confident I can. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Then that’s all I need to know,” your father leaned back in your seat, arms crossed against his chest and a stern expression on his face. “And if I find out you hurt or make my daughter cry in any way, I’ll beat up that pretty face of yours. I have two more sons that’re willing to do the same, if you don’t watch your actions.”

Satoru beamed at your father’s ‘approval.’ “I’ll face any consequence if I fall short on my duties, Sir, but I assure you, it will never have come to that.”

“So we’ve come to an agreement?”

The two men linked and shook hands across the table, completely disregarding the fact you were right beside him. You were beyond appalled, but mostly hurt that you’d been reduced to this way. And they were unaware of it, too, sickening and satisfied yet tense smiles were masked on their faces as they decided your future.

You stood up and left the restaurant.

You kept walking as fast as you could in the cold night, hands shoved into the coat of your pockets. Thousands of pin needles pricked at your heart and your skin the more you replayed the memory in your head. How stupid were you to think that Satoru would be different? And marriage? Was he serious? It all made you sick to the core to the point you wanted to throw up and disappear, until a heavy set of footsteps echoed behind you and tugged your wrist.

“Y/N, wait!” Satoru panted, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. “What’s wrong with you? You just up and left—”

“Seriously, Satoru, you’re asking me that?” your face fell flat at his cluelessness, “What’s wrong with you? You men are sickening; planning my entire future like that right in front of me as if I don’t have a say in what I want. None of you asked if I’m okay with this. You really went ahead deciding we’ll get married when I told you already, I don’t want to marry you and I never will!”

Satoru brushed a hand over his hair, a hand on his hip. You could tell his patience was being tested – after being verbally harassed by your father and now with you pushing back in the same heat, it was only a matter of time before he lost his cool. Surprisingly enough, however, his voice remained levelled as he sighed. “What did you expect me to do back there? Tell your father that we’re just going to be roommates and raise a child together as if we’re not already family?” he defended, words slow and pronounced with a hint of hurt behind them. “I respect you and I truly do want to be with you, that’s why I wanted us to get married.”

“You respect me?” you laughed incredulously, “Are you hearing yourself right now? No person respects another by deciding what happens to my life without my consent!”

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask, okay? I apologize for it and I acknowledge my mistake that I didn’t give you much of a choice. Me being cornered and pressured isn’t a good excuse, but I wasn’t lying when I said I want to take care of you and—”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why do you want to be with me?” you demanded, “Why do you want to take care of me so badly? How did you even take this so well? You weren’t even that angry when I told you I was pregnant.”

Satoru paled. “Was I supposed to be? Should I have pushed you away and kicked you out my life? Is that what you wanted me to do, or is that what you expected from me, considering you’ve made it extremely clear I’m nothing but your airheaded boss and a man who always wants his dick wet, right?” the sting of his words pricked you both – you with your guilt, and him with his pride crushed. But he didn’t let on, didn’t waver and didn’t match your anger as his chest shook with impatience. “I’m trying to be good to you; I want to be good for you and the baby because despite what you think of me, I’m not the devil the tabloids make me out to be. I sleep around, yeah, but I wouldn’t go so far to turn someone away especially when I know I’m supposed to be there.”

“Satoru, if you’re only doing this out of obligation, you can be a good father without marrying me. Marriage is not a requirement; I don’t care what people say that I got pregnant without getting married. That’s the least of my concern, I just want the baby to grow up healthy but I don’t want to be involved with you.”

With how stunned Satoru looked, one would’ve thought you slapped him right in the face. That mere sight of seeing your boss tear his walls down in front of you almost made you feel bad, but you had to be strong.

You had to be firm with what you stood for.

“I really don’t want to be with you, Satoru. I’m so sorry.”

“What do you want me to do?” his voice cracked, begging and pleading as he stood before you, looking every bit of a man lost in uncharted territory. “I don’t know what you want me to do, Y/N. One moment, you’re telling me you want me to be a good father, and then the next you’re pushing me away. People are so sure that I’m a man who can never settle down because they believe I have commitment issues, but I’m telling you I can commit to you right now,” he held your hand, rubbing some of his warmth at your comparably cold ones. You didn’t fail to notice that he was trembling, but what about what you couldn’t decipher. “Are you really sure I’m the one here who isn’t capable of that? What are you so scared of that you can’t trust me?”

“Because you’re you! Because you’re a fucking asshole who’s been treating me like I’m an overworking machine and always expects me to undo your shit for you! Because you make me sick and I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t know what love means!” Exploded. You exploded. “I regret everything that happened between us that night. No, in fact, I regret ever meeting you at all.”

Satoru took a step back.

All the light and joy that fit so perfectly with him had now disappeared.

“I’m sorry,” he demurred, “I’m sorry that I’d been so repulsive that you’ve felt miserable for all this time. I’m sorry I haven’t been a decent boss and I’m sorry I’m not good enough for you.”

“Gojo, stop. Stop doing that; stop apologizing!”

“Then tell me what you want me to do,” he barked desperately. “Because I can’t read your mind and I just want to be good for you.”

“What if I don’t want you to? I don’t want you to be good to me, I don’t want you to care about me. Be there for the baby, but don’t involve yourself too much in my personal life. Stop asking me to marry you because you and I would never work out. We’re impossible, okay?”

“How do you know we’ll never work out when we haven’t even tried?” he pushed, “You never even gave me a chance.”

“You’re not worth that chance.”

If someone could receive an award for effortlessly trampling over someone repeatedly, you would’ve been crowned winner a long time ago. You had no idea what came over you as you spat all those hurtful words to Satoru, but did your words bear no truth? The fact that he no longer defended himself meant he also knew that he wasn’t worth it – that he wasn’t someone to be trusted. It wasn’t that you were completely unfair too; of course you considered it. Weeks of living under the same roof as him and you most definitely considered it. Say you did get married and became a real family – what then? It wasn’t a marriage out of love, but rather out of responsibility and obligation.

As much as you loved your child, you couldn’t imagine throwing away your future and living miserable for the rest of your life like that.

A life built on lies wasn’t a life worth living.

“I would never hurt you.”

Your heart cracked. After everything you said, after all your efforts to keep him away from your own safety, after all the hurtful things you’ve done to him, and he was still apologizing? Why did he have to make it so hard to let go? You were tired, so tired that you could no longer refrain your lip from quivering as tears caked your face.

“Gojo, please, don’t—”

“So if me stepping away from your life is what would really make you happy, then I’ll respect it. But there’s one thing I have to ask,” Satoru swiped a thumb under your eye to catch the tear. His smile was forlorn, his touch cold and words melancholic. “Do you want the baby? Do you...want to keep the baby and be a mother? You don’t have to do anything for me, I just want to know if the mother of my child even wants to be one. And please be honest, because everything you say right now are words that I’ll mark seriously.”

The word left your mouth before you could stop it.

“No.”

“No what?”

“I don’t want to be a mother,” you admitted, hands trailing over your belly. It felt like you were betraying your own child, but you hadn’t planned this. “I’m too young, Satoru, I-I’m not ready for this. With you there beside me or not, I really don’t want this.”

“Then,” he cleared his throat, turning his head to the side to catch a moment. You swore you saw his eyes shine under the city lights with tears, but it was gone so soon that you might’ve just fooled yourself with it. Once he deemed himself ready to talk, Satoru took a deep breath. “Do I have your consent that once the baby is born...it’ll be under my care? Would you prefer to reach your own dreams, then? You’ll never have to be a part of the Gojo family if it’s really not what you want, even though I could support you as much as you need me to.”

Your eyes widened at his proposition. “You’ll take care of our baby?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Can I...can I visit them, at least, once in a while?” It was more than just your heart that broke that night. There was no telling whether you’d hurt yourself in the long run with this decision. It was no easy choice to make – to actively pursue your dreams somewhere else more than being a mother. You wanted to do your best, of course you did, but it wasn’t that easy. Gojo didn’t have to tell you for you to understand that once you married him, you’d be expected to run the business with him and be involved in his family and their dramas. Now that wasn’t a life you wanted.

“You’re free to visit them whenever,” he promised, voice fading even lower into the background. “So is this it? We’ll just be living under the same roof until the baby is born and once they’re here...”

“We’ll part ways.”

“We’ll part ways,” he nodded in agreement, sniffling for a brief second before fixing his tie. The Gojo Satoru you got to know for a few weeks had now disappeared. Not even the goofy boss you spent seven years with could be found in the coldness of his eyes, almost as if he’d put up such impenetrable walls around him and nothing could pass through. The sudden shift in aura made your heart clench as he offered his hand to shake. “Okay. Let’s stay professional until then?”

“Yeah, Sir, I can do that,” your hands shook as you enclosed it around his, but now all the warmth had disappeared – from his eyes, his touch, his soul. It hurt, but this was necessary. It was what felt right. “Thank you – for everything.”

“You’re welcome. Anything for you and the baby,” Satoru proclaimed, perplexing you both when he suddenly pulled you in his arms. Just like that, the dam broke, and you were staining his precious suit before you could stop it. His arms rubbed up and down your back the longer he held you there, almost like a final moment to lean on one another before you had to say goodbye eventually. Beneath your palm, his heart beat exuberantly loud, so much so that you might’ve heard the prayers it whispered. “Stop crying now. The baby might feel sad too. We’ll both be alright – we just have to get through this.”

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striveattemptfail · 2 years

Text

Better and Brighter | Timber, PG, 3k

Summary: A look at everything that happened between Tim and Bernard from Bernard’s perspective. Posted for Bernard Week 2022: Fill The Blanks. Warning: Discusses school shooting + canon death of a character, as well as canon cult activities, but is not overly descriptive for any of these. Contains spoilers for Robin (1993), Batman: Urban Legends #4-6, and “Special Delivery” by Travis Moore in DC Pride 2022. Read on Ao3

A/N: Listen y'all, I tried to get this out for the end of this past pride, and when I missed that I aimed for Timberversary, and when I missed that I tried shooting for Day 7 of @bernarddowdweek. Alas, Bernard did not wanna shut up and took what should’ve been a 700-word fic to 3k, so now I am posting this a week after the anniversary /o\

Thank you to @saturniiids for the exceptionally quick beta~! Shout out to the Lightbulb Moment server for listening to my bitching as I tried to finish this fic lol. All other mistakes are mine.

————————————————————

In hindsight, Bernard maybe should’ve been tipped off that he was at least a little bit queer when, on the dude’s first day of school, he checked out Tim Drake from head-to-toe.

“Your eyes are clear and you lack the telltale hemp-ish smell that would place you with the Heads.”

Dark blue eyes. Not quite as striking as the clear sky above us, but notable nonetheless. He smells like shampoo and fresh laundry—and maybe a little bit of sweat.

“You could be a jock—you look ripped enough—but then again there’s all those books to consider.”

Well-fitted tee over muscles that are clearly stretching the fabric. Perhaps an athlete with a secret?

“You are an enigma, grasshopper.”

This is a guy I want to know better, he thought.

“Name’s Bernard Dowd, by the way. Bernard, got it? Call me Bernie and I’ll have to punish you.” Bernard handed back the newbie’s schedule with a small grin.

He was met with an obliging smile and a flash of amusement in the newbie’s gaze.

“Tim Drake.”

“Glad to meet you, Timmy.”

“Tim.”

His grin widened.

“See? We’re getting along already.”

And in less than five minutes of meeting him, Bernard had his arm around Tim’s shoulders.

It was a full assessment and glowing review—he should have probably picked up that this wasn’t exactly something a straight man would do to anyone, unless they were completely obnoxious.

(To be fair, Bernard knew he was pretty presumptuous back in high school. He wasn’t a jerk about it though.)

Time went on, and days at Louis E. Grieve blurred from one into the next. Classes and teachers and crushing on Darla from afar was his normal. Sometimes the only thing worth remembering about his days was Tim and the tall tales he came up with. Frequent absences and constantly marred skin was totally different from what Bernard was used to. Tim’s lies about being on the gymnastics team with friends from his old boarding school were easy to see through, but Bernard was a patient man and figured Tim would tell him what was going on eventually.

Patience was how he finally got the chance to speak to Darla, after all. (Well, aside from Tim’s crazy stunt confronting the giant jocks surrounding her.) Bernard knew she wasn’t into him, but he could be patient and wait for her crush on Tim to wane. Tim was smart and cool, sure, and objectively attractive to top it off (how did he find the time to work out?), but Bernard knew he still had a chance because Tim apparently had a girlfriend.

He was genuinely curious about the elusive “Stephanie” Tim so often talked about. She sounded almost too good to be true, and Bernard remembered calling him out on it.

“I’m happily involved with someone else,” Tim had reminded him.

Bernard resisted rolling his eyes. “So you keep saying, but where is this mysterious Stephanie Whatshername? Why have I never met her?”

It’s because she’s not real, he thought knowingly, or because “Stephanie” is actually a “Stephen”.

Bernard was a conspiracy theorist—he knew how to deduce things. But he was also a pretty chill dude, and he figured he’d let Tim know that the poor guy didn’t have to keep lying about a fake relationship just to cover up his sexuality.

He had patted Tim’s shoulder reassuringly. “If you got something you wanna tell me, then speak up. We’re buds. I’ll understand.” He gestured to himself. “We’re two modern, enlightened men in the new millennium, Drake. No need to make up imaginary girlfriends.”

This should’ve been another (rainbow) flag. He had always considered himself an ally—he was never a homophobic asshole—but maaaybe he could have picked up on why he was so adamant that he was really cool with it if Tim ever came out to him.

And, okay, he also had a thing for hot women. He could cut himself a little slack. Darla Aquista was the hottest girl at school; he would’ve admitted that even after his feelings about her changed from a crush to something more platonic. If he was being honest, she was still just as attractive once she got mystical powers and became Laura Fell. He also wasn’t lying when he said that Tim’s stepmom was hot—indeed, the Drake men were very lucky guys—and he still won’t apologize for sort-of ogling her when he had dinner at Tim’s place.

“Bernard, take my advice,” Tim had warned in a low voice. “You really need to stop talking, right now.”

He did, and he and Tim played the new Batman and Robin game Bernard got his hands on.

It probably should have tipped him off when he thought Tim’s angry pout was cute though.

————————————————————

Bernard lost himself when Darla died.

One moment he was walking the halls and the next he was in the nurse’s office because Darla had been shot.

He had never felt so helpless in his life.

When Tim left the room, armed with nothing but a bloody t-shirt and a wooden baseball bat, Bernard couldn’t even bring himself to stop him. It was obviously a suicide mission, but Bernard could do nothing but lock the door as asked once Tim left.

He found out later that Tim was the reason Darla even made it to the school. Someone (Tyrone?) said that Tim had acted heroically despite the madness around them. Bernard almost wished he could have seen it, seen Tim apparently kicking ass in action, but it wouldn’t have changed the fact that he lost a friend.

He saw Tim at Darla’s funeral, but he didn’t look like he wanted to see anyone.

And neither did Bernard.

He was transferred to a private school by the next week, and for a long while it was the last time he saw Tim.

————————————————————

It was after what happened at Louis Grieve that Robin—his Robin, the one before the girl Robin—was back in action. By that point, he’d never actually met Robin before, and he still vehemently believed that Batman replaced Robins with new orphans, but somehow Bernard recognized him. Something about the way this Robin moved, the way he immediately slunk away before anyone could even get a clear picture of him, that made Bernard sure it was the Robin he was most familiar with. The forums he frequented disagreed, but Bernard knew better.

He started to obsess over Robin—his Robin, not the new one, the smaller, younger one with a sword that showed up later—and the way he worked with the urban legend that was the Batfamily. He learned what made this Robin different, his quick movements and fighting style. He didn’t quite have the grace of one of the previous Robins, or the acrobatic strength of another Robin, or even the ruthlessness of the latest Robin. But there was an efficiency that was distinguishable to Bernard. He could think fast and follow through even when things went sideways.

This fixation filled his days. It distracted him from the pain of losing Darla, the shock of getting her back (sort of), the whirlwind of her leaving him again (though at least not dead this time), the blur that was his new life at a different school.

And it helped keep his mind off how much he really missed Tim.

Bernard missed messing around and playing games with him. He missed being able to talk for hours on end about the latest conspiracy theory he came across, even if Tim mostly just laughed at most of them. Bernard missed the easy way he could throw an arm around him or bump their shoulders together.

Again, in hindsight, all of this probably spoke volumes about his own sexuality. It was one thing to be inspired by Robin’s heroics and take self-defense classes; it was another to study Robin’s specific fighting style. It was one thing to miss a close friend like Tim after he switched schools; it was another to think about him all the time.

And Bernard did think about Tim. He thought about Tim a lot.

And because he was already familiar with forums and the vast wide world of the web, he took to the boards once more to figure out what the hell he was feeling.

It didn’t take long for him to realize he was bi. Girls were still plenty attractive to him, but there was no mistaking that he had affection for guys too.

(Or, at least, one specific guy.)

He came out not long after his revelation because, after everything that happened at Louis Grieve, he didn’t want to hold back anymore. Besides, if Robin(s) could fight every night against some of the most horrific rogues around, he figured being openly queer was a cake walk.

He was a man of the new millennium, after all.

He changed up his wardrobe and style, swapping his biker shades for ear cuffs; trimmed his hair down to a shorter, messy mop. He dated around for a bit, men and women alike. He even went to his school’s pride celebration.

Nothing stopped him from missing Tim and Darla (Laura, he had to remind himself, it’s Laura now) and how things used to be, but the changes helped. Investigating new theories (Robin-related or not), training in self-defense classes, discovering himself, meeting new people—it was his new normal.

Despite how busy he now was, it still took probably longer than it should have to get back in touch with Tim. Between the big adoption announcement into the Wayne family and becoming a shareholder in Wayne Enterprises, Tim Wayne definitely had public profiles online, but Bernard knew that his attempts to contact Tim through those accounts would’ve probably gone into a spam inbox before Tim could even see it.

Tim Drake was a little harder to track down.

Bernard was nervous about his search—so much time had already passed and the event that separated them was so traumatic. Would Tim remember him? Would he even give Bernard the time of day? What if things became too awkward between them? Would he look Bernard in the eye and only remember what happened at Louis Grieve? The answers left Bernard anxious with every page he swiped through, made him slow down as he scrolled past different accounts.

But Bernard wasn’t about to quit, and despite his worries, he still really missed his friend.

After some sleuthing around and hopping between social media profiles, he eventually managed to DM Tim on Pixtagraph. Bernard wasn’t even 100% sure if the account was active seeing as its last post was a few years ago, but it was the best lead he had, so he took a shot.

By some stroke of luck, Tim responded in less than a day, and the two of them decided to meet up for a casual dinner by the next week.

————————————————————

Reconnecting with Tim was—

—kinda amazing.

He was as smart and dorky as Bernard remembered him. He was still easy to tease and poke fun at, and still took Bernard’s jokes in stride. A little less sure of himself unlike when they were in high school together, but still just as driven.

(Just as cute too, if Bernard was being honest, but that would’ve been jumping the gun.)

Then the Chaos Monsters crashed their date, and more than anything Bernard wished he had contacted Tim earlier, if only so they could have spent a little more time together.

————————————————————

It was a combination of reading through discussion boards and talking to new friends that he learned about the Children of Dionysus. He might have made some peace with his sexuality and what happened in the past, but that didn’t mean he was set for the rest of his life.

It turned out a lot of other people felt the same way too.

It was—exhilarating. Letting everything go, having the pain focus his mind, being able to heighten his own pain tolerance during fights. It was called a “cult”, but Bernard only ever thought of it like a BDSM club, just less sexual and open to people his age. He thought that, while the leaders were a bit cold, they were still charismatic and persuasive, and he eagerly wanted to soak up their promises. He thought the “Chaos Monsters” were only overdramatic bodyguards who made sure everyone kept quiet about their little gatherings.

Stupid, he knew now.

And he was proven exactly how stupid that was when he was publicly kidnapped. The cult leaders decided he was going to be a sacrifice, and the Chaos Monsters were ready to oblige. He was incredibly lucky that Robin came in the nick of time, and Bernard very much learned his lesson about the slippery slope that was joining a cult.

————————————————————

After the whole ordeal with the Children of Dionysus, things got easier.

It wasn’t perfect. Missed dates happened more often than both he and Tim liked, but Bernard figured being a son of The Bruce Wayne was a lot to deal with. It was also clear that Tim was still hiding things from him, but just like back in high school when he spotted Tim’s scars and bruises, just like at Darla’s funeral, Bernard didn’t push. Tim was planning to stick around, and so was Bernard—he’d talk to Bernard eventually, or Bernard would coax it out of him.

He was patient with Darla (Laura); he could be patient with Tim too.

Bernard loved whatever time he did get with him. Between movie dates and diner visits, he enjoyed every moment he spent with Tim.

It was a bit weird, but in a good way, in the best way. They were getting to know each other again, but it also felt like they were falling right back into how things used to be.

Now with more handholding.

There was never a dull moment, and Bernard never knew he could be this happy, this comfortable with someone. He spent so long trying to make up for everything he lost since Louis Grieve, having someone—having Tim—to enjoy his time with...

He didn’t have the words to describe how lucky he felt.

————————————————————

Tim was late. Again. Bernard was very used to this. He would be more worried, if only because the reason why his boyfriend was late again was because of some rogue criminals blocking the streets by the Narrows.

Macro and micro robbery cutting the roads off from the parade. Will be late. Sorry. Sad face.

(Tim used text-to-speech to send his messages, Bernard had learned. Tim said it was because he usually got around on his motorcycle—which Bernard had conveniently never seen—but the written out emojis were kinda endearing nonetheless.)

Bernard typed out a quick response:

It’s okay. I’ll meet you at the park. Thumbs up. LOL. ;P

Tim sent back a middle finger (the actual emoji this time) and Bernard couldn’t help but laugh.

When Tim finally caught up to where Bernard was watching Gotham’s pride parade, the little speech he opened with was really sweet. He started recalling their dates, even the disaster that was Bernard getting kidnapped by Chaos Monsters; he talked about how their relationship had been a journey of discovery, not unlike Bernard’s own; and for as rehearsed as it sounded, Bernard could tell that Tim meant every word he was saying.

“—know how my life is, how hectic it can be. I was afraid I’d let you down. And I have. Repeatedly. And I’m sorry—”

He had half a mind to slap a hand over Tim’s mouth because he was rambling, but honestly Bernard was charmed by how nervous Tim was, and he wanted to know where his little speech was going.

“—want you to know I’m so happy to have you—”

Bernard was suddenly filled with warmth, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t because of the summer sun shining down on them. Between Tim’s words and the earnestness in his voice, all Bernard could feel how happy he really was, same as Tim.

“—which is why I’m giving you this.”

Tim held his hands out to present a white box, which Bernard took from him before flipping the top open with excited curiosity.

It was a cake, or at least three-quarters of one. The right side was pretty ruined. The text written in different coloured frosting was now cut off with the crumbled corner, and the rainbow sprinkles mushed together in the mess.

It was adorable.

“How did you know it was my ‘Fir Pri’?” Bernard smirked down at his gift, his heartbeat fluttering despite the mistakes. Sure, the cake was a bit destroyed, and, yeah, he’d already been to pride before.

But he loved it all the same.

He thought about going to his school’s pride celebration, really confronting the fact that his feelings for Tim and admiration for Robin wasn’t just friendly affection. He thought about his time in the Dionysus cult, and how close he got to losing everything, again.

As he examined the cake, Tim—of course—started babbling again. “It’s supposed to say ‘Happy First Pride,’ but it had a rough journey getting here.”

Bernard thought about how the years have passed for him, how they were once filled with loss and regret, then eventually enlightenment and discovery. He thought about how it all led to finding his way back to Laura, and Tim.

“And I baked it myself, so it wasn’t all that pretty to begin with, to be honest.”

Bernard shifted his gaze from the cake to his boyfriend, who looked sheepish and a little apologetic.

“It’s perfect and I love it,” he said with certainty, “flaws and all.”

He meant it too. Even though this wasn’t technically his first pride celebration, it was his first pride with someone he really liked.

It was his first pride with Tim.

And that was still pretty special all on its own.

He pulled Tim close, pressing his forehead against Tim’s, their noses almost brushing from the closeness. His smile twisted from amused to fond.

“It was definitely worth the wait.”

#bernard dowd week 2022 #bernarddowdweek2022 #red robin #dc robin #robin #tim drake #bernard dowd #timber #timbern #fanfic #jercy attempts words #happy fir pri and one year timberversary everybody (ಥ‿ಥ)

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roniscloud · 3 years

Text

psh - love affair

park sunghoon [f. 8516 words] love affair

so when i’m gonna know what to feel inside, baby?

maybe it’s just all in my head, so

don’t overthink, this is love

maybe it’s just a crush

baby, is this your love affair, your love affair?

synopsis: what happens when two childhood best friends make a deal to help each other’s reputations? an unforeseen circumstance prompts sunghoon to approach you, intriguing not just you but practically every other student at your college. you believe your reunion with him can only end in one of two ways: you resort back to being friends and go on with your lives, or you use each other and once you’re both done, you fall out and never talk again. how will you two navigate your companionship? is it just the nostalgia coming up? a revival of feelings? a new crush? could it possibly be actual love?

genre + tropes : fluff. comedy. the slightest angst. childhoodbestfriends!au. enemiestolovers!au. college!au. fakedating!au.

warnings: fem reader. a little swearing. slightly suggestive themes, sorta. a few cliches. mentions of underage drinking. the american collegiate school calendar. does them geeking out over fantasy/sci-fi sagas need a warning? unknown mutual pining. they’re so helplessly clueless of their feelings. also appearances of the rest of enha plus txt.

i. prologue

if someone told you that you would reconnect with your childhood best friend—let alone date him, you would’ve laughed in their face and told them to fuck off. park sunghoon is bad news. well, at least to you he is. one of the infamous campus playboys, you can spot him around the quad flirting with a different girl practically every day.

but to you, he couldn’t have been anymore unlike the sunghoon you grew up with. you grew up with the sunghoon who couldn’t stand being around others, mind always focused on his own interests. you knew him as the little shy boy who would hide behind his mom whenever new people came around. the first person he opened up to was you. you can blame your mom for that. you can vaguely remember her words, something along the lines of mrs. park and i have been friends for longer than you have been alive. when we found out we were both expecting, we knew you two were destined to be besties.

she was right. everyone thought you were two peas in a pod. wherever one of you went, the other followed. always stuck together, like true partners in crime. your close bond stuck for years. if anyone needed you, you’d most likely be found in the seats of sunghoon’s ice skating practices and competitions, cheering him on and being obnoxiously loud. likewise, he always attended your showcases, spending hours complimenting your artwork.

but then the villain of everyone’s lifetime eventually appeared. puberty.

alas, your friendship did what anyone could predict of a couple of preteens entering high school. the usual “no matter what we’re gonna stick together!” leading to “sorry for blowing you off, got really busy,” to the imminent “what happened to us? we used to be so close,” and eventually the end of it all. senior year, the two of you attempted to leave on a good note. by that, you mean your parents made both of you apply to the same colleges to have a chance at sticking together. well, it worked, you got into the same university. funny how the universe does things.

back to present day, you’re now in your second year at hybe university. let’s just say, sunghoon isn’t the only one who went through a personality change. sunghoon traded his late night practices on the ice to one-night stands at frat parties. you, on the other hand, traded your once outgoing and fun-loving persona for a more… cold grunge meets artsy introvert. overall, let’s just say you both have reputations for not being the most approachable people. well at least you still have one thing in common.

ii. the cafe

the busy campus cafe was roaring with study groups filling every table. the aroma of fresh coffee and tea being brewed filling the air, creating a warm atmosphere—contrast to the cold winter weather just outside the walls. the college students scattered around, just like their minds scattered as they prepare for finals. not immune to the dreaded time of year, a group of four boys enter, immediately grabbing the attention of those already nestled inside.

a quick roll call of the four known by the student body as en-4, a combination of the dance crew name enhypen and the notorious f4. lee heeseung—the campus heartthrob, captain of the dance crew, center of the basketball team, and an unknown hopeless romantic. park jongseong, although everyone calls him jay—the resident bad boy and party animal, but those close to him know that he’s actually the responsible one. sim jaeyun, otherwise referred to as jake—the friendly and flirty frat boy who you can catch playing soccer in the quad almost every day. finally, park sunghoon—the handsome heartbreaker. he doesn’t need more of an introduction.

the four of them make their way to the counter, placing their orders. of course jake doesn’t miss his chance to sound extra sweet and send a quick wink to the barista, getting elbowed by heeseung in the process. after getting their drinks, they look around to see almost no where to sit. not a single table to fit all of them was available.

in one of the tucked away areas, sunghoon spots an empty seat at a smaller table. the only catch was there was someone sitting across from it, hunched forward over her laptop. he can’t see much of her figure but he immediately recognizes her features. it’s you. well, a more mature and grown up you, but he couldn’t forget that face for the life of him.

sunghoon’s feet drag himself across the crowded room, catching the attention from the neighboring groups he passed but sneaking away quiet enough to not alarm his own friends. the three are too caught up arguing about what to do. sunghoon can hear the faint voice of jay suggesting going somewhere else while the other two shoot him down as he walks further away. he makes his way all the way up to your side. you look up, scanning him, confused but unamused. “this seat taken?” the first words he said in a year and half to you. still not not giving him any emotion, you hesitantly shake your head once, immediately bringing your focus back to your essay.

ignoring him only works for so long, his gaze not leaving the top of your head. you can feel his stare piercing into you, finally meeting his eyes. “what’s your deal?” the irritation and bluntness in your tone is all too evident.

he shrugs and answers nonchalantly, “nothing, just go along with it.” his answer is hushed, almost as if he’s a bit embarrassed.

“what are you trying to pull here, park?”

“can i not just sit here and peacefully drink my latte? am i that disturbing to you?”

“considering that the second you started walking in this direction, everyone had their eyes on us, then yes, you are that disturbing.”

“they’re not looking at us.” he pauses before continuing with his rant, “they’re looking at you.”

“and why the hell do you think that is?”

“they’re all trying to figure out what could possibly be so interesting about you that i would choose this seat.” he says it like it’s the most obvious answer.

you scoff and turn to see the lingering stares of the others in the cafe. “well, if it isn’t the god park sunghoon being as humble as ever, gracing me with his presence and having mercy on a peasant like me.” the sarcasm dripping off your tongue like venom.

he smiles warmly at your animosity and chuckles. “i’ve always loved your sense of humor.”

“funny cause i’ve always despised yours. i’m gonna ask one more time. what do you want, park?”

he only shrugs. hesitating before responding again, “i like it here. i like talking to you. it’s familiar… comfortable.” he sees your expression change subtly. it’s only for a second before you regain the prior look. he tries to read you. he caught you off guard and his pride brings a smirk to his face.

by now, he finally tunes back into the situation around him and can feel his phone going off in his jean pocket. he pulls out the phone to see dozens of notifications, quickly stealing a glance back up at you to see that you’re already back to typing away on the previously forgotten assignment. he laughs as he sees the boys blowing up their group chat asking what he was doing. he looks up, finding the three sitting at a cramped booth with shock and confusion written all over them.

“enjoying the attention?” your turn to break the silence. when he turns back to you, you continue, “you’re no stranger to it but you’ve always loved it.” he gives you a slow nod, turning the question back to you. you answer him, “you know that it’s not my forte.”

“and why is that? scared people will get to know the real you?”

“oh please, like you aren’t afraid of me exposing all the dirt i have on you. imagine the buzz i could create with all of your old baby pics.”

he jolts up from his relaxed position, eyebrows raised, and completely on edge, “you wouldn’t dare.”

you lean forward in your seat, elbow resting on the table, cheek resting in your palm, and chuckle, “try me.” the words leaving your mouth quickly and a smile immediately replacing it.

“you’re finally smiling at me. good to know you still have emotions.” he gets you to laugh again. you spend the next 20 minutes catching up. looks like you two kept more in common than you thought. things run smoothly between the two of you, some of your old memories and inside jokes being brought up. “why didn’t this happen sooner?”

“what, us talking? i mean, you and i stopped running in the same crowd and school got the best of us. i will admit, though, freshman year sucked without you.”

he sighs when he hears your admission. “how about this? a proposition. i’m sure you’re aware that i don’t have the best reputation.”

you cut him off, “you can say that again.”

“haha, very funny,” he throws in another sarcastic comment. “you know you’re not exactly the most approachable either. hate to be the one to break it to you but you’re pretty intimidating.” he notices the expression on your face turned into one of annoyance at his last statement, “don’t look at me like that, you know it’s true.”

you dismiss the slight jab, telling him to continue. what you don’t expect is the next four words to come out of his mouth. “go out with me.” he sees your face drop, “oh come on, stop looking at me like that.”

“so i see, a little bit of time without me and you go insane.”

“look, i don’t mean actually date me, i mean… pretend to.”

again, you stare at him like he grew another head. “you want me to fake-date you? what are we, in a k-drama now? sorry hoon, you’re attractive but i would’ve preferred hwang in-youp or song kang.”

now he’s a bit annoyed, answering cockily, “i am so much better looking than them.”

“you wish.”

his jaw drops for a few seconds and then he chuckles. “i’m serious, think about it. we go out and spend time with each other like old times. i don’t look like i’m so incapable of being in a committed relationship and you don’t look like such a loner. no offense.”

“offense taken… but i see your point.”

“see, look at you using that smart brain of yours. this would be no strings attached. just two friends helping each other out while simultaneously deceiving everyone else. i know how much you love tricking others.”

you sit quietly, weighing the pros and cons in your head. “deal.”

iii. bro code

a few days later, sunghoon sits in his shared apartment with the boys, slumped on the couch as they eat dinner. “why are you guys so against it? i thought you wanted to see me in a relationship and now that i’m in one, you guys don’t approve. make it make sense. i should be free to date whoever i want.”

“yeah dude,” pausing to take a bite of his burger, “we get that.” jay answers, seeing how defensive his friend is getting.

jake interejects, “we respect your choices, but like… her? of all the girls that are falling at your feet, you chose her? the one that has no interest in you at all? i know you’re powerful but i don’t get how you managed to pull that off.”

“i feel like you could’ve consulted us about it first. bro code, man.” heeseung says as he shrugs his shoulders and sips on his soda.

“that’s kinda why i like her, because she isn’t all over me like the others. she’s cute and fun to hang out with. just give her a chance. honestly, what’s the worst that could happen? we go out and it doesn’t work. no harm in trying….”

that seems to do the trick as the boys lay off from the topic, going back to their own dinners and watching the latest episode of the penthouse.

later that night, sunghoon leaves their dorm to meet up with you. you agreed earlier that if you needed to meet up and talk that you’d go to the art department. perks of being an art major allows you a studio to spend your time in, secluded from the outside world. in this case, you and sunghoon don’t have to worry about nosy roommates.

when he arrives, he makes sure to take the back entrance like you mentioned. he makes his way through the deserted halls, glancing at each room he passes, and taking note of the various pieces framed along the corridor walls. he gets to the end of the building, finding a studio decorated with your name on the door. he silently enters. you don’t notice him at first with your back against the entrance and the music playing too loud through your airpods, focused on molding the clay on the pottery wheel. he grabs an empty stool, propping it beside you and taking a seat. he takes off one of your airpods, putting it in his own ear.

you finally turn your head towards him, “how long ago did you get here?”

“just now. how long were you waiting?”

you sit up, facing his direction. “i had a couple of classes today and came here to finish some stuff, been here for… what time is it?”

“um… almost 11.”

“then like four hours.”

“you’ve been working on that for four hours? what even is it, and when did you start doing pottery?” he points at the unfinished ceramic.

“not just that. i had some paintings that i needed to finish for my portfolio and those are in a separate room to dry. this,” you refer to the clay, “is just something i’m working on for fun. i got into it cause one of my profs suggested i try another medium.”

he nods along while you explain. “you can keep working on it while we talk.”

you hum in confirmation and turn back to the wheel, rewetting your wands. “so how do we make this believable? seems like people already know. word spreads quick when it comes to you.”

“we just need to act like a couple. so hanging out, going on dates, posting each other here and there, and being affectionate.”

“wow you finally found an excuse to kiss me,” you laugh as you joke with him, him following suit. “sounds reasonable, not much different from how we were as kids, just now we have to call them dates.”

“shouldn’t cause too many problems. just don’t fall in love with me, babe.”

you smile at the new nickname, “likewise, hoon.” you continue throwing the clay, molding it to your desired shape. you hyperfocus on the sculpture, tuning out the boy sitting next to you as he watches—he catches on that you still have the habit of pouting whenever you work on your art. you hunch forward, letting some of your hair fall in front of your face. too caught up, you don’t notice that sunghoon left his seat to stand behind you. he takes your locks and ties it into a messy ponytail. you snap out of your tunnel vision to ask, “why do you just have a hair tie handy?”

“i always had to carry some around for you because you always lost them. i never grew out of it, i guess.” he grins warmly, “do you remember how many times you had complained when you would get paint in your hair and i would have to clean it up for you?”

“how could i forget?” the night ends with more laughs and reminiscing on your childhood. time really does fly faster than you think.

iv. rated pg

the bell rings as you and sunghoon enter the convenience store. you two are discussing the movie you two just watched as you walk through the aisles.

you split up agreeing to meet back at the register. you make your way to the drinks in the back while sunghoon goes to get snacks. you grab an iced jasmine tea for yourself and an iced vanilla latte for hoon. sunghoon yells over the stands as he browses, “hey, what should i caption for my insta post?”

you respond loudly, “i don’t know, something related to movies.”

sunghoon looks at the picture on his phone: a photo of you two snuggled up in the theater, most of your face hidden in his hoodie. he types in quickly “rated pg for park’s girl <3”, hits post, and goes back to browsing. he goes to grab bento boxes, honey butter chips, candy jellies, and practically everything his eyes landed on.

when you make it to the cashier, you see sunghoon with his arms full. “you good there, park?”

a muffled “yup” is heard behind all the food.

you look around, walking away when you find what you needed. going closer to him, “why didn’t you just grab a basket?” you start to take some things from his arms, lightening his load.

“i… uh… didn’t think of it.” he pauses in between, an embarrassed expression adorning his face. you giggle as you take everything to be rung up, missing how his ears turned red. you catch the worker’s name on his tag, jungwon. before you can take out your wallet to pay, sunghoon’s already entering his card into the machine. you whip your head around, ready to tell him off. “nope, do not look at me like that.” you roll your eyes at him as you grab the bag with what you just bought.

“oh come on… you can’t seriously be mad at me.” no response from you. “really? the silent treatment?” he scoffs jokingly when you cross your arms against your chest. he comes closer to bend down and wrap his arms around your waist. “it’s snacks. it’s not that big of a deal.”

you release yourself from his grasp and walk out of the store, still faking being mad. you mumble, “whatever,” under your beath but still loud enough for him to hear.

he bids jungwon a quick “have a nice night”, not missing him calling the two of you a cute couple. sunghoon meets up with you outside, already sitting on the curb of the parking lot.

v. pretty boy

the start of a new semester. en-4 are sitting out on the grass of the quad. surrounding them are various groups of students, typical for the buzzing campus on a crisp spring day.

“you need to cook the noodles first. end of discussion.” jake says sternly. he and heeseung are in a heated argument over the proper order of cooking ramen.

heeseung defends himself, “you are so wrong. you make the broth first to build the flavor.”

jay brings his attention up from his phone, “neither of you should be allowed anywhere near a kitchen.”

out of nowhere, a loud car horn is heard, drawing the attention of every student in the area. sunghoon looks up to find you leaning against the passenger door of your car and yelling, “hey, pretty boy! get in.” he chuckles at both the label and how bossy you sound, turning to his friends to grab his things. the three of them are stunned at him.

jake breaks first, “wait, what?”

heeseung lets go of his argument with the australian, “dude, are you seriously leaving?”

sunghoon only nods as he walks away, not letting them ask any more questions. he notices all the watching eyes and decides why not put on a show? he shouts out to you, “thought i was picking you up later, babe.” he makes sure to emphasize the nickname as his infamous smirk tells you exactly what his intentions are.

“lecture ended early, love. prof had some emergency. thought why not surprise you…” you wrap your arms around his shoulders as he reaches you and let him lay a quick peck on your cheek. “now come on, i’m taking you out on a date so either hop in or lose your chance. your choice but i don’t have that much patience so hurry up.”

“yes, ma’am,” he leans in closer and guides his hands lower from your waist. “but i’m driving,” he says as he sneakily takes your keys from your back pocket,

“you sly fox.” he laughs at the new nickname as he opens the door, letting you sit down before closing it. he makes his way around the hood, noting that all attention is still on you two. he meets eyes with his friends again, the three looking much like the faces he saw in the cafe almost six weeks ago. as he buckles in and starts the car, you rest your hand on top of his on the gear shift. he raises his eyebrows and gives you a charming smile. “by the way, why’s your friend looking at me like that?”

he looks back up to face the boys, “which one?”

“jay. since we started doing this, he keeps looking at me weird—like weirder than the others.”

he tilts his head to the side when he realizes that jay is indeed looking in your direction, but his eyes are focused solely on you. “jay is… how should i put this? you know what i’ll tell you later. for now, tell me where to?”

vi. jukebox

the hazy red glow of the neon lights and checkered tiled floors welcomed you as you led sunghoon into the local diner. this place was a staple in your childhood, your go-to hangout spot with the aforementioned boy when you were still in your youth.

“i will say, this is a nice surprise.”

you look up to sunghoon as he sits across from you in the vinyl booth seat, “i knew you would love it.” you laugh with each other as you get situated, seeing a young but tall—why is he so tall? he looks like he’s only a teenager—server coming towards your table.

“hey, i’m niki and i’ll be taking care of you guys today,” the giant says cheerfully. “anything i can start you guys with?”

sunghoon looks up at the boy to take your order swiftly, “two strawberry milkshakes, please.” you watch as niki nods and walks back to the counter.

“well, well, well, park… you remembered?” you question teasingly with a cocked eyebrow.

“you’ve always had a sweet tooth. no wonder you loved me so much,” his turn to turn up the typical park sunghoon charm.

you scrunch your face in annoyance, “you should become a comedian.”

“i will never get tired of your sarcasm. it really just… keeps me going.” his way of joking back. “stay here. i’ll be right back,” he says quickly as he looks behind you and gets out of his seat.

you wait patiently for him, assuming he’s just going to the restroom. unbeknownst to you, sunghoon is making his way to the jukebox on the other side of the restaurant. he flips through the song list, finally finding the one he wants. he quickly puts in the coins and sets it in the queue. as he turns to go back to you, he sees an engraving on the side. he runs his fingers along it as he inspects the writing. property of sunghoon and y/n. he thinks back to your last day of eighth grade when you two etched the label onto the wood. he joyfully walks back to your table, ready to let you know about the memory. he sits next to you now, resting his arm behind you and around your back,

“what took you so long, park?”

right as he’s about to explain, niki comes to your table, “two strawberry milkshakes. anything else i can get you two?”

you turn your head quickly to the boy sitting next to you, seeing his eyes are already focused on yours. “um… no, i, uh, think we’re good.” you stumble and stutter a bit. you watch him as he nods his head and walks away. regaining your composure, you ask sunghoon again, “so what did take you so long?”

once again, he gets interrupted. the sound of “purpose” by justin bieber playing over the speakers makes him stop. he gives you a second to register the song, “that’s why.”

you tilt your head down and look at him quizzically, “really? this is why?” you reach to your drink, sipping on the straw as you wait for his answer.

he mirrors your movement, nodding his head in confirmation. he too drinks from the tall glass, contrary to your use of a straw, he opts to drink straight from the rim. he pulls the milkshake away, leaving some on his upper lip.

you burst into quiet laughter, turning your gaze away to not spit out your own shake.

sunghoon furrows his eyebrows in confusion, “what’s so funny?”

you turn back to him, “you got a little something there, park.” you wipe away the liquid from his face with your thumb, popping into your own mouth to clean it up.”there, all good now.”

sunghoon freezes in his spot, trying to comprehend what just happened. it’s quick but he feels something. trying to shake off the foreign feeling, he turns to face forward again. he feels you lean into him, head resting on his chest. a small grin appears on his face, humming along to the justin bieber tune still playing.

“i missed hearing you sing.”

sunghoon looks down at the crown of your head, “really? you used to always tease me about it, though.”

you shake your head with a light laugh, “i never meant it. whenever you sang, it always calmed me. i used to think… if you didn’t pursue skating, you could’ve been a singer.”

“and then what? i would bring you around on tour everywhere and sneak you in backstage?”

“that could’ve been fun.” you now laugh louder than before, him along with you.

there it is again. sunghoon’s not sure what it is, trying to suppress the odd emotion. he sits there, cuddling up to you in the booth, finishing the strawberry milkshakes, just hoping you can’t hear the way his heart starts to beat faster.

sitting at the bar, snacking on fries, and trying to not be seen by you two are heeseung, jay, and jake. they ask themselves would they really be considered sunghoon’s friends if they didn’t follow them and stake out their date.

vii. nerds

sunghoon picked you up from the art department today. he showed up about ten minutes too early, and he got permission from your instructor to monitor your class from the back. he waited outside the door while you cleaned up, earning a few prying looks from your peers as they exited. as you drove back to his place, you agreed to have a movie marathon.

opening the door to his dorm, you say “we are watching star wars. luke, leia, and han solo are a way better trio than three child magicians.”

sunghoon defends his choice, “first of all, they’re wizards. second, i’m offended. harry, ron, and hermione use magic with their wands. all star wars has is weird weapons and robots.”

“they’re literally in space and excuse you, but does something called—oh, i don’t know—the force ring any bells? they’re jedis, duh.” you rolls your eyes, making your annoyance clear.

sunghoon stops in the hall, “harry potter has spells and potions.”

“star wars has chewbacca.” you stand next to him with your arms crossed.

definitively and matter-of-factly, sunghoon says, “quidditch.”

“you can’t seriously believe quidditch is praiseworthy?” you look at him crazily.

“you two are such nerds.”

you both freeze, turning to see the rest of en-4 sitting in the living room. in the midst of your argument, you both failed to notice the others were home. you realize that jay was the one to stop you two. you also realize it’s the dreaded time for the best friends to finally meet the “girlfriend”. sunghoon seems to realize it as well, reaching to intertwine your hands to both sell the act to his roomates and to calm you down.

he leads you into the living room, meeting eyes with the boys. “so… guys, this is y/n, my girlfriend.”

“it’s so nice to finally meet you! i’m jake. sunghoon here has been holding out on us. i mean, come on, it’s been like two months and he still hasn’t introduced you to us.” the australian continues on with his energetic and positive ramble, asking you questions about your relationship.

heeseung butts in to tell jake to slow down. “i’m heeseung. jake’s right though, you two started dating before winter break and we’re barely meeting you now. sunghoon is always hanging out with you and telling us everything about it. honestly, all i can tell you is to run while you still can.” the others all laugh at his antics.

sunghoon scoffs, “hey, i’m not that bad.”

you excuse yourself to get a drink from the kitchen. you can hear jake spitting out more questions like rapid fire to sunghoon as you walk away. you reach into the fridge, fishing out a water bottle.

behind you, jay enters quietly. “you two are cute together.”

you flinch at his voice, “geez, dude. almost gave me a heart attack.”

he chuckles under his breath and leans against the counter, “sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. i met sunghoon at freshman orientation and we immediately became friends, but i’ve never seen him like this.”

“really hoping you mean that in a good way.”

“don’t worry, it is. you know… he only has a soft spot for you. the three of us are his best friends but he only ever smiles like that with you.” he sways his head back and forth as he rambles, taking a pause between his words. “stay with him. it’ll be good for everyone.”

you smile at his approval, “you wanna know something? he actually said you would be the hardest to win over. he said something about you being super protective over your friends… yet, at the same time you trust their judgement. he told me that when he and i got together, he wasn’t scared to tell you but more worried as to if you would like me.”

he smiles with you now, “that all he said about me?” he asks while raising his eyebrows in curiosity.

“he also mentioned that you’re a good cook.”

viii. proud

a professor of yours is holding their annual spring showcase for contemporary art. every year, a handful of students are chosen to join and display their art amongst other renowned artists. you happen to be one of the few, a top contender chosen for your abilities.

you’ve invited your friends, including en-4 to come by the studio and see your work—albeit a bit nervous for their reactions. you stand on watch by your section, greeting the patrons and waiting for the boys to arrive.

thankfully, they show up within the first hour of the gallery opening. they each show up looking professional and chic, sporting all-black fits—most likely at the hands of jay. sunghoon immediately finding you and leading the way for the rest. you welcome them in, explaining your collection, the concentration being “vulnerability.” the works are a mix of several mediums, majority being oil paint, each displaying a closeup of various people. the paintings show their bare faces, imperfections and blemishes with nothing to hide.

the night continues with more and more passing by, complimenting your collection. by the time the exhibition ends, you and sunghoon are the only ones left in the studio. he’s stayed in the same spot, eyeing one piece incredibly closely. throughout the entire showcase, he had kept going back to the one canvas. you join his side, linking your arm with his. “this one is my favorite,” you hear him say.

you look up to meet his eyes, “why this one?”

“because… it’s you.” you takes your arm out and moves to stand behind you, now wrapping himself around you and resting his chin in the crook of your neck. he holds your hands in his, “i am so proud of you. times like this, i am proud to call you my best friend.” he turns his head, kissing you once on your jaw, and then pulling slightly back to kiss you again on the cheek.

you turn around, hugging him closer with your arms around his shoulders, “thank you.” you hold each other for a few minutes. when you pull away, you lock eyes. you feel your heart beating against your chest and your breathing getting faster. you snap back to reality when you feel sunghoon’s lips on yours. you’re not sure why you tangle your fingers in his hair and kiss him back or why he grabs onto your waist while backing you into the wall. he continues placing pecks on the corner of you lips, creating a trail down to your neck. when you let out a sigh and say his name, he stops. there he stands, a few feet in front of you, awkward and unsure of what to do next.

he breaks the silence, “it’s late. i should drive you back home.” he watches as you slowly nod your head. the drive back to your apartment was dead silent. you tried to occupy yourself by looking out the window.

when he drops you off, he bids you a quick goodnight. “um… text me when you get back home.” sunghoon just looks forward, muttering “ok” before leaving.

in the elevator, you look at your reflection on the metal doors. you make your way inside your place and take a seat on your bed. your mind is too busy reliving the moments with sunghoon before. you try to comprehend what you should do but find yourself too tired, instead falling asleep and missing his text.

ix. spring break

it’s currently the middle of april and the boys have made you an honorary member of en-4. you and sunghoon have been pretending to be a couple and successfully tricking everyone for the last four months.

everyone has the week off for spring break. jay, being the generous guy he is, rented out a cabin in the mountains for the now five members of your friend group. you all rode in one car on the way up, and you totally didn’t fall asleep in the middle seat while cuddling into sunghoon’s side.

you all decide to settle into your rooms once you arrive. “so there are four rooms, two downstairs and two upstairs.” jay pauses, looking towards you and sunghoon, “i assume that you’ll be fine sharing one.”

you immediately answer, “yeah, for sure.” you look to see sunghoon avoiding your gaze, sensing knowing looks from the others. sunghoon and you already guessed that they would make the two of you share a room and truthfully, neither of you minded. growing up together meant a lot of sleepovers and sharing beds so this was no problem.

he continues on, “great, you guys can take the master bedroom on the second floor cause it has the most space. i’ll take the room next to you, heeseung and jake can take the two down here.”

everyone agrees and sets off to their assigned rooms. you and sunghoon drop your bags onto the mattress, starting to unpack. the interior is spacious, the tall glass sliding doors allow lots of natural light to come in. the room itself is cozy, king size bed with matching bedside tables, and a big fluffy area rug. you’re too distracted to notice that sunghoon has gone outside to the balcony. he leans against the railing, taking in the scenic views and the breeze, basking in the setting rust-colored sun. when you finally realize that he’s not next to you anymore, you silently make you way onto the balcony, wrapping your arms around sunghoon from behind.

he tenses up at the sudden contact, relaxing when he realizes it’s you. there it is again, his heart is acting up like at the diner. he’s noticed it more often—the way that whenever he sees you, his heart beats differently. this weird feeling in his chest, this warmth that only shows up around you. he gets lost in his thoughts, envisioning what could become of your situation.

“what’s got you so lost?”

your voice snaps him back to reality. he turns around to face you, “uh… nothing, just thinking.”

just when you want to question him further and talk about what happened at the showcase, a knock is heard on the door. sunghoon walks away, going to open the door. both of you can feel the awkward tension when he leaves his spot.

“hey, we’re kinda hungry so we’re gonna order some food and watch a movie downstairs,” jake informs you two when the door opens. “feel free to come down and join whenever.”

“yeah, we’ll be down in a bit,” sunghoon tells him as heeseung nods before leaving you two alone again. you both finish getting settled before heading downstairs. you gather around the couch as ponyo plays on the tv and you reach for a tray of sushi.

the night continues, the moon sitting high amongst the stars. after the movie, dinner, and some drinking games, everyone retires to their respective rooms. you plop yourself onto the bed, tired after the day’s activities. you hear sunghoon getting something from his bag along with the rustling of some plastic. you crane your head up to see him approaching you. he sits on the edge of the bed, now with fluffy headbands and face masks in hand.

you scoot back a bit, “nope. no way you are getting me to do that.”

he laughs lightly at your antics, “oh come on… let me take care of you, at least just for tonight. please.” he gives you a pleading look with pursed lips, dragging out the “please” to show how desperate he is.

that was the deciding point that led to a spa night. you both changed into comfier clothes, you borrowed one of his hoodies and sweatpants. sunghoon got settled in closer to you and you reached for his wrist to grab one of the elastic bands. you adjusted your position to sit on your knees, reaching up to tie his hair back. he, on the other hand, took one of the headbands to bring your hair back and away from your face.

by the time midnight rolled around, you two were snuggled under the comforter with face masks, surrounded by junk food, and on the fourth episode of some random netflix show. as the night continues, a wave of sleep starts to overtake both of you. you help each other take off the masks and clean up, getting distracted every few minutes because one of you would start messing around. the boys had stopped by to say goodnight, catching you two in the middle of a mild pillow fight. after sending them off, you fall asleep in each other’s arms, basking in the warmth of your shared embrace. heeseung had snuck in at one point and stole a few quick pictures to tease you two with.

the dawn breaking through the sheer curtains causes you to stir in bed. you turn to see the alarm clock on the nightstand say 6:02. untangling yourself from sunghoon’s grasp, you sneak outside. you climb up to sit on the rooftop, feeling the cool chill of the dewy morning. the time alone gives you a sense of serenity.

meanwhile, sunghoon moves under the covers, confused why he can’t feel you. his eyes open and he doesn’t find a trace of you in the room. worried, he gets up and quietly searches the house, making sure to not wake the others. he goes into the backyard, seeing a shadow on the ground with an unusual shape. he looks up to find you perched on the roof, facing the opposite direction. he eventually climbs up to sit next to you. he hesitates before getting closer and putting his arm around you. you sigh as you lean into him. there you both stay, watching the sun come over the horizon in a comfortable silence.

x. disaster averted

the following week, you all return to campus. needless to say, the break was well used—the days at the cabin mostly being spent at the lake or around the campfire. another day spent hanging out at en-4’s dorm after classes. sunghoon went out to pick up food for everyone. you are in his room, trying to cram for an upcoming test and failing miserably because the other three are all playing fifa way too loud.

while the boys are playing, the doorbell rings. jay gets up to check who it is, seeing a young girl and immediately recognizing her. he lets in yeji, sunghoon’s little sister. she casually joins the boys around the tv, catching up on whatever has been happening in their lives. sunghoon arrives back home within twenty minutes.

“i’m back with the food,” he shouts out loud enough for everyone to hear including you behind his closed bedroom door. he places the plastic bags on the table, looking up to see another face. “yeji? what are you doing here?”

she gets up to greet her brother, giving him a hug, “it’s my spring break and i wanted to stop by.” sunghoon then realizes that his family doesn’t know about him becoming friends with you again or about your current situation. he drags her into the kitchen hurriedly, “ok so here’s the thing… you remember y/n?”

“of course! she’s like my big sister.”

his breath gets caught in his throat for a second, “yeah, don’t call her that. anyways, her and i are friends again,” he sees yeji’s eyes widen with excitement and continues with his explanation before she can cut him off, “and she’s my girlfriend.”

“what?!”

sunghoon panics and covers her mouth with his palm, “fake girlfriend!” he rushes out the whisper. “the guys don’t know that our relationship isn’t real and i’d like to keep it that way. they don’t even know that we were friends beforehand. yeji, i’m begging you to go along with it. please do this for me.” he clasps his hands together in front of him with a pleading expression.

the young girl crosses her arms in front of her and pretends to think about it, “hmm… fine.”

sunghoon blurts out a chant of “thank you’s” not knowing that his sister only agreed cause she always thought that you and sunghoon would’ve been a good couple. he tells her to help the others set the table while he goes to you. he quickly explains what’s happening and you’re just excited that you get to see yeji again. you both leave his room and you make your own way to the living room, spotting the other girl and exchanging glances.

yeji stops what she’s doing to turn and face you, “who’s this?”

you answer back casually, “y/n. i’m a friend of the boys, and you are?”

“yeji, sunghoon’s younger sister.” she says it proudly, bringing a grin to the aforementioned boy.

“oh, you’re yeji? hoon was right… you are pretty.”

she tilts her head and cocks an eyebrow, questioning you “why would he tell you about me?”

jake chimes in like it’s second nature, “i mean, why wouldn’t he tell his girlfriend about his sister?” he states like it’s so obvious. “they’ve been together since december.”

“girlfriend?” she takes a step back in false shock, “since december? why didn’t i know about this?”

“what? i don’t seem like your brother’s type?”

“it’s not that. i’m just surprised he managed to get and keep a girlfriend. you’re like, way out of his league and he’s a loser.” one thing to know about yeji is that as much as she loves him, she will never miss a chance to tease her brother.

with a scoff, you finally hear sunghoon join in beside you, “not gonna lie, that one hurt a little.”

“i’m so telling mom,” she says with a mischievous smirk.

you laugh at sunghoon’s shocked face and smile at the younger park, “i like you, i think we’ll get along just fine.”

“i like you, too.” she looks at sunghoon, “keep her.”

everyone laughs at the interaction as they settle in to eat. sunghoon sits to your right while yeji sits on your left, wondering how his two favorite girls learned to be such good actresses.

xi. returning the favor

fast forward another month, the end of the semester means the dreaded finals week again. sunghoon has been, for lack of a better word, slacking on some of his classes and is now juggling to prepare for exams and revisions. couple that with yeji telling his mom about your “relationship” and her nonstop questions, all of this stress has been piled on. this all amounting to him getting sick.

now, sunghoon being sunghoon means that he pushed everyone away and hasn’t told you about his condition. luckily for him, you’ve been cooped up in your studio trying to finish your portfolio and also prepare for your exams. unluckily for him, the boys have gotten worried and heeseung called you.

which brings us to the present, sunghoon stuck in bed with a fever, congestion, and neglected notes. a knock on his door does nothing to help his headache but seeing your face meekly peek in makes him relax. “what are you doing here?” he asks hoarsely.

“did you really think i wouldn’t find out?”

he avoids your glare, “i didn’t want you to worry.”

“honestly i’m not upset that you’re sick, but that i had to hear it from your roommates.” you come closer to him, clearing out the scattered papers and textbooks from atop his bed. you sit on the edge, taking out some medicine and cooling packs that you picked up from the convenience store.

“you really don’t have to do this,” he twiddles his fingers in embarrassment.

you tie back his hair and place one of the packs on his forehead, “you’ve always been the one taking care of me, so i might as well return the favor.”

you busy yourself with getting the cough medicine ready and sunghoon takes an actual look at you. he notices that you’re wearing his old skating jacket, the same one he gave you at your high school graduation. he makes more room under the covers, allowing you to come closer and lay next to him. he drapes one arm over you and holds onto the end of the jacket sleeve, “i can’t believe you kept this.”

“we stopped hanging out and we weren’t in each other’s lives for a year and a half after being together basically since birth,” you pause, a little saddened thinking back. “this was the last thing i ever got from you. it’s all i had left.”

he brings you closer, neither of you caring if you got sick. “well… now you have me again. for good.”

xii. the party

the end of the school year has finally arrived. some seniors from the txt frat are hosting a big party to celebrate. of course, en-4 was invited—mostly thanks to heeseung being close with them. although you have made more friends and now have a more active social life, parties are still not your thing.

yet, much to your dismay, being friends with designated party people means that you’re getting bombarded with pleas to go regardless. sunghoon took the lead on convincing you, “please, i promise that it’ll be fun.” the boys join in, their voices overlapping. sunghoon practically tackles you onto your couch while pouting and furrowing his eyebrows in desperation.

“stop looking at me like that. i can’t think properly when you do that.”

right on cue, the boys start to tease you. jay clears his throat and jake makes kissing noises, meanwhile heeseung starts singing y/n and sunghoon sitting in a tree… while you just glare at them.

“if i say i’ll go, will you all leave me alone?”

they all shout “yes” in unison. which is how you ended up at the crowded frat house. although they had begged you to come, they practically abandon you and sunghoon when you get there. jake had yelled back to you that his friend sunoo from his econ class called them over for beer pong.

you and sunghoon find a big bean bag in the corner and stay there for a bit. he offers to get you both some drinks and leaves to the kitchen. you’re not sure how long he’s gone but you eventually get uncomfortable. you start wandering the house for some space to get some air. you find an empty room and make your way into the connected bathroom to wash your face. you take some deep breaths, then realizing that you didn’t tell sunghoon. as you’re about to step out, he enters the room.

“i figured you would want some space.”

“how’d you know where i was?”

he comes up closer to you, “in the sea of people, in this mess, in this frenzy… i will always find you. no matter what happens or who comes into my life, i always find my way back to you.”

“what the hell is that even supposed to mean, park?”

“i mean…” he stops to compose himself, “oh for fucks sake, i’m tired of this being pretend. i’m tired of being allowed to call you my girlfriend in public but not treat you like it in private. when i kissed you at the showcase, i had wanted to do that for so long, and i’ve been wanting to do even more.”

“sunghoon, look-”

“wait, i’m not done. what i’m trying to say is that i want you to be my girlfriend, for real this time—not as a joke, not as a trick. i want us to be together as an actual couple because i like you, a lot more than you could believe-”

you cut him off this time, kissing him like he did all those weeks ago. you kissed him in the way that you weren’t sure what words to say other than, “i would love to be your girlfriend.”

sunghoon shines with the biggest smile, picking you up and spinning around. when he lets you down, he incessantly leaves pecks all over your face. he holds you close, “now, how about we go enjoy the party?”

you nod and lead him hand in hand towards the door. you turn the nob, only to have the three remaining members of your friend group fall at your feet. heeseung landing on top, shouting out, “i fucking knew it!”

#sunghoon #park sunghoon #sunghoon fluff #park sunghoon fluff #sunghoon imagine #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon fic #sunghoon fics #enhypen #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen imagine #enhypen imagines #enhypen fic #enhypen fics #enhypen fluff #enhypen sunghoon imagines #enhypen sunghoon fics #enhypen sunghoon fluff

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wackywritings · 3 years

Text

Rafe Cameron - Stare into my eyes

Summary: Y/N and Rafe have a complicated relationship. One minute they're on the brink of kissing, the next they're fighting because he's wanting to get high again.

Warnings: cursing, mentions of drugs, fighting.

If it wasn't for the loud music at Barry's and the chatter of people under the influence of god knows what concoction of substances, perhaps she would've heard him arrive on his bike. But alas, she didn't. She was blisfully oblivious as he stumbled up the few steps leading to the trailer, his eyes searching the crowd for her.

"Country club! What you doin' here bro?" It was Barry's voice that made her blood run cold, the conversation she was previously engaging in long forgotten. He was here.

She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping over the wooden floor making an awfully high-pitched sound, piercing the ringing in her ears. She passed by him on her way to Barry's bathroom, not even having to spare him a glance to know he was trailing close behind as soon as he tracked her movement, only to leave a confused Barry behind. He never quite understood the relationship between the two. It's a good thing she didn't look up at him, because she would've no doubt seen the change in his eyes upon meeting hers; hard eyes void of emotion, fleeting around the room anxiously turning into a soft gaze that didn't focus on anything but her. If it wasn't him, now, it would've been almost endearing.

But it was.

He followed her into the bathroom, locking the door behind him as soon as they were both in the cramped space. It was quieter here, but instead of bringing some peace, it only made their thoughts louder. She wasn't looking at him yet, her back to him as he pondered over how to break the silence. How to address this wrack-up of a matter he'd gotten himself into.

"So. I'm a bit high." He cringed immediately after the words left his mouth, internally cursing at himself.

"Yeah, I figured that much, Cameron." She held up her hands in exasperation, but her frustation soon turned into worry as she finally took in the boy's appearance. His right eye sported a new bruise, green and purple and red mixing together on his sunkissed skin.

"You're hurt."

"Clearly. Why else would I get high?"

"Because you have an addiction?" Her eyebrows raised as she crossed her arms over her chest. She was not afraid of him in the slightest. "C'mon, Y/N." His tone was pleading, no, begging. In any other instance, he would've loved her having an attitude, doing anything in his power to rile her up even more. But right now he just needed someone to take care of him.

Her stance softened considerably as she took in the rest of his appearance: the bags beneath his eyes, the locks of hair - not gelled back like usual - sticking to his forehead that was covered in a sheen of sweat, not unlike his polo.

"Okay." She whispered, ever so slowly nodding her head, before moving past him to unlock the door. He didn't smell like the cologne he normally wore, a mix of alcohol and sweat floating between the small space between them. "Let's get you something to change into, alright?" Though she didn't wait for his answer as she opened the door, moving straight to Barry's room.

"You gonna dress me in a wifebeater or some shit?" He inquired with a chuckle as he followed her, plopping himself down on the bed as he intently watched her rummage through Barry's wardrobe. Most of his high had worn off already, and he could begin to feel it.

"Are you kidding? He'll notice it's his and have your ass for it. I'm sure he has some decent shirts he never wears. It'll be less obvious." She reasoned as she opened multiple drawers to find what she was looking for. A victorious 'aha' left her as she finally found what she was after, turning around with the blue longsleeve held high in her hand, only for her proud expression to change into shock, her mouth hanging open.

He'd taken the liberty of taking his shirt off already, something she hand't noticed him doing. She should've said something- anything, so he wouldn't question her change in demeanor. Joked teasingly with him, or even just asked if he thought it would fit. But she couldn't utter a single word as she looked at him. His shoulders broad, arms more muscular than she imagined them to be under his usual attire. Not to mention his chest, or the muscles in his abdomen that rippled underneath his skin (God it looked so soft. She wondered what it would feel like under her grazing fingertips) as he moved to stand up from the bed. She felt her heart hammer against her chest, flushed cheeks as she tried to look anywhere but his shirtless form.

"Gonna give me that?" He was pointing to the shirt still firm in her hand, an amused look on his face. The smugness made her snap out of it - as if his ego needed any more boasting.

"Don't flatter yourself." She scoffed, though she made no attempt to throw him the shirt. It took three, maybe four quick strides for him to be right up in her personal space. She was trying to stand her ground, straighten her back and keep eye contact to seem less affected by their current predicament. She was sure he could hear the hammering of her heart anyway. "Just took me off guard, 's all." She managed to murmur, bringing her bottom lip between her teeth to keep herself from shyly smiling.

He wasn't one to play with her feelings - he knew the kind of effect he had on her. But he quite enjoyed dancing around the subject with her, flirting and teasing and tender touches shared after spending long days together. It was their thing. He had convinced himself it was all he needed from her. God forbid he was honest about how much she meant to him, how much he craved her presence.

"Hm. Did you rather have me change in the bathroom, doll?" He came incomprehensibly closer to her, a breath too deep would have their chests touch. His eyes were boring into hers, now at eye level with her as he bent down slightly.

"I-" She wanted to say something. Tell him a warning would've been sufficient, adding a wink just to tease him back. Maybe say she wanted to be the one to take his shirt off, if she so dared. But his blue eyes were so mesmerising - specs of light shimmering in the dark blue pools of his irises, his pupils focused on her and only her. She could look away to stop the tight feeling from spreading in her chest, sure, but then she'd have to look at his large shoulders covered in freckles and sweat, or his chest rising with every breath he took. Warm breaths that she could feel hit her lips ever so softly. Getting lost in his eyes really was the only option she had. Inevitably, so was losing her words.

And it made him smile. A real, genuine smile. If he wasn't so close perhaps she wouldn't have noticed the way his eyes twinkled, how creases at the corner of his eyes formed, how that dimple arose on his chin.

As if that wasn't enough to make her weak at the knees and her breath hitch in her throat, the bolt of electricity that she felt when his long fingers touched hers, tracing around them like it was some kind of game to him, would've done her in.

"That's what I thought." His voice was raspy and dangerously low as he whispered it - so close to her mouth she wished he would just close the goddamn gap already. But it's Rafe, so of course he didn't. He just tugged on Barry's shirt held tight between her fingers, grabbing it and putting it on a split second later.

"How do I look?" His questioned as he couldn't find a mirror in the room, hopefully glancing at her.

"Peachy." She nodded as she wiped her hands on her jeans. She was upset at the loss of proximity, so perhaps what was supposed to be a comment of teasing nature came out harsher than she meant. Something that didn't go lost on him. Maybe he did take it too far just now.

"Alright, well. I gotta find Barry." He discarded her previous comment, rubbing his nose. The high had officially worn off completely now, and he was dying for more. Though he wasn't sure if it was because he wanted to forget his earlier fight, or forget her. How he felt about her, and how he wasn't ever gonna be enough for her. How he would never have the guts to do something about it.

"Rafe-" She started sternly, glaring at him. Though she quieted down as he held his hands up.

"No, not this again, okay? You don't have shit to say about this, you hear me?"

"What, that's it?" She let out a dry laugh as she stood in front of him, blocking the door. "You're just gonna get high again. Seriously?"

"Y/N, don't start with me now." His voice was threatening now, glaring on the edge of venomous.

"It always ends the same, Rafe, and you were high just minutes ago. Don't you think that was enough? Don't you ever get bored of this shit?" She was asking too many difficult questions for his liking. Her tone was exasparated, too. Tired of having to deal with him and his stupid issues. Of having to patch him up and take care of his pathetic self that just couldn't get fucking clean. He felt the urge to scream, but bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from acting on it.

"What, you're not even gonna say anything?"

"Stop." He gritted his teeth, jaw clenched as he spat at her.

She threw her hands up, before running them through her hair. How was she supposed to stay calm - or approach this situation when he wouldn't even talk to her?

"I just- you're hurting people with this. You're not you, Rafe. Not anymore. I mean look at you." She gestured towards him.

"You don't know who I am."

"But I do!" She all but screamed at him. He kept his composure and his cold glare, but she noticed the way his shoulders tensed upwards at her outburst. So she closed her eyes and took a deep breath to try and calm herself down. "I know you. You're sweet and gentle and caring and so incredibly smart."

"Y/N." He wasn't used to compliments, or feeling this many emotions, for that matter. He could feel the need for another line coursing through every inch of his body. He just needed a little bit. Just needed to be able to breathe again.

"No, I'm serious. You're a great brother to Wheezie, you're great to me."

"Don't." He twisted his head to the side, his eyes rolling back as he felt his whole body heating up again, Barry's shirt no doubt already showing sweat stains. But she was far too invested in telling him how amazing he was, eyes trained on the ground as her brows furrowed, words flowing from her mouth at such a rate that in any other situation would've made him wonder where she found the time to breathe. So she didn't listen nor notice how he was struggling.

"You're always trying to please your father."

"Y/N, do not-"

"No, Rafe. I know how much he means to you, but you're never gonna be able to please him if you keep using! He's just going to keep abusing you and you're gonna keep being disappointed and running to Barry to stop yourself from feeling it."

He was proper boiling right now. Sweat was trickling down his forehead, jaw shut tight as he balled his fist at his side. They always say anger looks red, but even with his eyes shut tight all he saw was white. Pure, white, blinding rage. Everywhere in his mind - dying to creep out all at once.

"And it's just this vicious cycle that's never gonna end. And I worry for the day that it becomes your death, Rafe!" She all but yelled his name, voice hoarse and filled with unplaceable emotions.

"Shut your fucking mouth!" He bellowed out, two quick steps bringing him right in front of her, his fist making contact with the door behind her before he even knew he moved his fist in the first place. She cowered down at the proximity of the sound. His body was flush against hers now, even closer than they were before. He was breathing hard, his arms on either side of her as he trapped her between him and the door. His skin touching hers felt hot and damp, but it still made her shiver. Not in a good way though, not like before.

The worst of it all wasn't even his anger, or the drugs, or the fact that she knew she wouldn't be able to stop him.

It was his eyes.

The ones that she had so lovingly stared into mere minutes ago. The ones that held so much adoration and passion for her. The ones that twinkled under the light, sparkled with mischief as he playfully teased her. The ones that she could look into and feel safe - no matter what. The ones that she considered to belong to her home.

They were darker now. Harsh and fierce, flaring up with anger as he looked into her frightened eyes. His eyebrows were furrowed hard, a frown between them. The shadows they casted leaving sharp edges prominent on his face. The specs of light weren't not visible anymore, they were simply gone. She couldn't even distinguish the blue from his pupils. She'd never been the subject of his rage before, and she never understood how most people feared him. But now? As he looked down on her with no emotion but anger written on his face, he looked scary to her for the first time. And she wondered if his eyes would ever feel the same again as her own filled with tears.

"Don't talk about my father again." His voice was strained but louder than she expected. He leaned into her even more to give power to the threathening statement, before completely pushing off. Large hands wrapped around her arms, fingers digging into her skin bordering on putting enough pressure to leave a bruise. He forced her away from the door. Perhaps he expected more of a struggle from her, but she was so shocked by his behaviour that she could only take small and hasty steps away from the door, scared to anger him more. He janked the door open, the sound of the loud bass of the music hitting her ears. The sensory stimulation was too much for her to bear, and she looked up both in a prayer for him to leave and to keep the tears from falling.

"And don't talk to me. We're done." He added. She wanted to look into his eyes. As much as they scared her now, she needed to know if they held any more emotion than his completely void voice just did. But he'd already slammed the door shut.

She was left looking at the closed door as she finally allowed the tears to soak her cheeks.

#Rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron imagine

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mrs-gucci · 3 years

Text

Rough Around the Edges {Prince Kylo Ren x Reader}

author’s notes: hello, hello! taking a quick break from all the fourth of july stuff to submit this piece for this week’s writer wednesday :) thanks @autumnleaves1991-blog and @clydesducktape for organizing this wonderful weekly event!

this story takes place in a medieval AU and is lightly inspired by certain elements in “Beauty and the Beast”.

warnings: angst with a hopeful ending. partially unreciprocated feelings. arranged courtship. time period-authentic sexism (women are meant to please men and that’s all). there’s a kiss.

(possible) tw’s: arranged relationship. implied age gap (not specified, but everyone’s above age).

word count: a touch over 2k

my taglist peeps: @frank-and-honey @shygirl268 @icarusinthesea @gildedstarlight @mrs-zimmerman @soldmysoulagain @roseepossee @pascalisfairyy (if you’d like to be added to or removed from my taglist, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist.)

You sit in front of the mirror while Anna pulls your hair into a flattering updo. Your eyes begin to tear up at the painful sting of your hair being manipulated in such a forceful way, scalp throbbing with each of Anna’s harsh, calculated movements.

"Must you be so rough?”

She offers little empathy in her expression as she looks at you through the mirror’s reflection. “The Prince insisted that you wear your hair up tonight, madame. He was absolutely furious when you wore it down the last time, and I’m the one who had to stand there while he threw a tantrum over it.”

Your eyes roll, knowing all too well of your betrothed’s legendary fits of anger. He’s much too old to be doing such childish things, but god forbid you ever say that to him.

Anna finishes up with your hair, much to your relief, but now the real pain begins. You look over at the corset waiting on the bed and already, your ribcage aches.

“What, are you trying to turn it to stone?” She asks, and you shake your head. “Well, you’re certainly staring at it long enough. Come on now, stand up, we don’t have all afternoon.”

You sigh, rising up out of the chair and walking over to the bed where Anna’s standing, corset in-hand. She wraps it around your torso, pulling the laces impossibly tight over your ribs and stomach, caging them both within the garment.

After the corset is very securely tied, Anna grabs your dress and helps you step into the golden yellow skirt. She ties the top part with just as much aggression as she tied the corset, making simply breathing a painful process.

“Try to at least look like you don’t want to jump out of the East tower’s window.” Anna remarks as you scowl at your reflection in the mirror. “Have you ever considered smiling?”

“I have absolutely nothing to smile about.” You reply curtly, unamused by this conversation or her suggestions.

She sighs in defeat. “I’m only trying to help, madame. You need to learn how to be a princess, or at least try and act the part.”

“I’m not interested in being a princess, Anna. But, if you ever asked my opinion on the matter, then you’d already know that. Now please, I wish to be alone.”

Anna’s surprised at the hostile tone of your words, but she keeps her lips pursed, knowing she’s in no place to press the issue any further. She simply nods, backing out of the room, leaving you alone.

Your bottom lip begins to tremble as your vision blurs with tears, abruptly turning away from the mirror so that you don’t have to look at what you’ve been forced to become.

There’s nothing that you wish for more than to be free from this life, free to live the way you want to live instead of the one that was chosen for you to live. You loathe the mask you must wear, the painted face that looks back at you through the mirror.

But, you have no choice...you’ve never had a choice.

The palace is aglow this evening, thousands of candles burning and casting a warmer shade across the normally-bland ivory color. Your shoes clink on the marble flooring as you make your way to the front steps, looking over the railing at the grand room below.

Lords and ladies, princes and princesses are all arm-in-arm, walking through to the ballroom. Some have stopped to converse with each other, fake smiles plastered on their painted faces.

You huff to yourself as you reach the top of the staircase, and at the bottom, stands your betrothed. He looks up as you make your way down the stairs, a pleased smirk tugging at the corners of his lips with each step you take.

Kylo holds his hand out to you when you reach the bottom, guiding you down the final stair before looping his arm through yours. The two of you walk towards the ballroom, smiling and nodding politely at the other guests.

“You look nice.” His voice is flat, emotionless.

You huff in false amusement, physically having to prevent your eyes from rolling. “Am I supposed to thank you for saying that?”

"Ah, you’re learning.” He says, stopping to look down at you, fingers holding your chin and forcing you to look up at him while his eyes linger over your face. “Perhaps there’s hope for you yet, little dove.”

You yank your chin from his grip, snarling softly. “Don’t touch me.”

His hand suddenly comes up to wrap around your throat, teeth bared. “I can touch you however I please, young one. You’re mine, and you ought to learn your place.”

Once he feels you relax, feels you surrender under his touch, he lets go of your neck and continues walking as if nothing’s happened, dragging you along with him.

He wears you on his arm the whole evening as he talks to various noblemen and you just stand there, silent with a small smile, pretending like you don’t exist.

Then, the two of you take a seat at the big table with King Han and Queen Leia, beginning to feast on the royal spread. You barely eat, partially due to the fact that you’re afraid to bust the ties on your corset if your abdomen expands even a little bit too far, and Kylo seems to take notice.

“I promise I didn’t poison it.”

You look over at him with widened eyes. He simply smirks, laughing softly to himself.

“I’m only joking, little dove.”

You’re incredibly surprised, stunned into utter silence at the fact that he’s just joked with you. You'd been convinced up until this point that humor wasn’t a part of his emotional capabilities, that he was only capable of anger, hatred, and inflicting fear.

His hand hesitantly rests on top of yours, which makes you flinch. He looks conflicted in the moment, as if he’s deciding whether or not to be upset that you react this way to his touch.

“Why aren’t you eating? You need to eat.”

You look away, jaw clenching. “I know you don’t actually care why I’m not eating, Kylo. Plus, none of my answers will be good enough to please you, anyway.”

He stiffens, pulling his hand away immediately.

“Perhaps you’re right.”

Your eyebrows furrow at the tone of his voice. He almost sounds...upset. Not upset at you, though, upset at himself.

The rest of the time he’s silent, only glancing over at you occasionally. Dessert comes around and you don’t even touch it, simply sitting up straight with your hands in your lap.

Couples rise from their tables as the musicians begin to play an upbeat tempo, gathering on the ballroom floor. Kylo stands up next to you, holding out his hand without a word.

You rise from your chair and take his extended hand, allowing him to lead you out to the ballroom floor. Dancing was customary in Alderaan and was a very popular practice at gathering’s like this.

Kylo’s large hands drop to your waist as soon as you reach the floor and you reach up to rest your hands on his broad shoulders. The two of you sway in unison and make your way around the dance floor skillfully, gracefully.

After the song comes to an end and another slower one begins, the Prince tilts his head down to look at you. His face is stoic, unchanging, but there’s something different about this look. It’s not as harsh or as emotionless as it normally is; there’s a certain gentleness to it.

Your eyes keep his gaze, looking back up at him with a curious glint in your eyes, drinking in his up-close appearance for truly the first time since you’ve arrived in Alderaan. He’s intoxicatingly handsome, there’s no getting around that, but his personality and temper leave a lot to be desired.

Yet, despite his hostility and distaste for you, you still find yourself temporarily entranced by his presence, melting under his gaze. It’s in this moment that you catch a glimpse into your own psyche, recognizing the true source of your vehement hate and closed-off behavior towards him.

All of it is done out of a desire to hide your attraction to the man that you’ve tried so, so hard to dislike. There’s always been a small part of you that’s known this, but you figured that if you pushed it down long enough and acted otherwise, perhaps you’d eventually convince yourself otherwise. But, alas, those feelings of attraction have only grown and festered beneath the facade of hatred.

It is true, Kylo Ren is a moody, closed-off, hostile and frankly childish being, but you’re somehow able to look past that and see the diamond-in-the-rough quality to the young Prince. You know that somewhere, behind the stone wall he’s so clearly built up around himself, there’s a goodness to him. You’ve seen glimpses of it throughout the time you’ve known him, but he almost immediately shuts it down instead of letting it show further, a fact you find incredibly perplexing.

“Y/N?” His voice pulls you from your thoughts.

You snap from your temporary trance and shake your head. “Sorry, I was deep in thought.”

“I gathered.” He chuckles softly. “If I asked what it is you were thinking about, would you tell me the truth?”

“Probably not.”

He nods. “I appreciate your honesty.”

The two of you continue to move around the floor before the handsome Prince clears his throat, cheeks flushing a delicate shade of pink.

“May I ask you a question, completely unrelated to my previous inquiry?”

You nod, and he swallows harshly.

“What is it about me that you loathe so much?”

Your stomach drops and you suddenly feel a touch of lightheadedness begin to pressurize within your skull. You’re frozen for a moment as you try to decide whether or not to tell him the truth.

“I don’t...why are you asking me such a thing? I know you don’t actually care about the answer.”

His jaw clenches and his grip suddenly tightens on your hips. “Why do you always insist that I don’t care?”

“Because I know you don’t, Kylo. At least, not truly.” You reply, squirming beneath his grip.

“W-Well, what if...” He huffs, looking away. “What if I do care? Or am at least trying to care?”

You’re genuinely surprised by his words, taken aback for a moment. This is a turn you certainly didn’t see coming...

“I find your ever-changing moods and stubbornness often makes you difficult to deal with. You never try, at least up until this point, to understand my feelings or show any sort of interest in getting to know me, which just makes me feel even more unwanted than I already do, and I--”

Before you can continue, you’re cut off by a sudden presence on your lips. It registers in your mind, then, that he’s kissing you. You stiffen, and he pulls away slowly, eyes staring into yours.

“You are not unwanted, Y/N.” He says, voice low. “Never...p-please never think that.”

Did he just say ‘please’? That’s almost the most shocking thing he’s said thus far.

“I don’t think you’re a bad person, Kylo. Just...a little rough around the edges.”

His entire demeanor shifts for a moment, and for a split second, you swear he looks happy; truly, genuinely happy. Perhaps a bit of relief was sprinkled in, too. He wears a small, barely-there smile as he continues to look down at you.

“I would like to try and change. We should at least try to get along, considering the fact that we’ll be wed soon. I know you don’t want to be here, but I’d like to at least try to make things a bit easier, h-however I can.”

You can’t stop the smile that quickly spreads across your face, delightfully pleased to hear these words. Your expression widens his smile ever so slightly.

“I think we can certainly give it a try.”

Kylo nods, a subtly optimistic expression etched on his features.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

#mrs-gucci #writer wednesday #mrs-gucci writes kylo ren #medieval au #medieval kylo #prince kylo ren #kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren angst #adcu #adcu community #adcu fanfiction #adcu fanfic #adam driver #adam driver character #adam driver angst #tw: implied age gap #arranged courtship

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reawritesthings · 4 years

Text

work this out | luke patterson

summary: loving luke was hard, harder than you thought. but, somehow luke felt the same. he just needed an extra push.

words: 1.5k

a/n: kinda proud of this? i kinda changed the prompt a little but yeah! pls reblog and share what u think :)

masterlist | taglist

You didn’t quite understand the relationship that you and luke were in; it was something that you could never explain unless you were there when it happened. It’s been a month since you and Luke had a moment, something that was waiting to happen but, neither of you wanted to act upon it.

It was a simple new years kiss. It was nothing but, for you, it meant something. It wasn’t just a quick peck or a light touch; it was something that clarified that this was supposed to happen. You tried to ignore the feelings that became stronger each day whilst Luke just brushed it off.

It was Julie’s birthday, and you were glazing around the house, watching people grind against each other. Some would describe as stalking but, you never were the person who would freely dance as Flynn or Julie did.They always offered to take you to the dance floor, but you always managed to come up with an excuse.

When Flynn caught your eyes and motioned her hands for you to come, you just lifted your red cup and shook your head. You weren’t really in the mood to party as you were stupidly waiting for Luke to appear. You knew Luke didn’t feel the same way which hurt but, your heart didn’t want to let go of the ‘if’s’.

You checked your watch, hoping it was near to wrapping up but, the frown that invited itself on your face told you that it just barely began. To pass time you decided to wander around trying to see if you could find Luke. Despite your feelings, he was still good company. Alas, you found him with a girl, a blonde to be specific. Usually, when you see your crush kissing another person, that would finalise the if’s, but it didn’t for you which made this more frustrating.

You suddenly dipped yourself down, hiding behind the island as you accidentally catch Luke’s eye. You closed your eyes shut hoping he didn’t notice but the soft touch that radiated your skin, showed your clownery.

“You good?” Luke said, crouching down to your level. You causally made eye contact with the first thing that came to your mind; Dust.

“Yeah. I just... saw some dust.”

“Dust?” Luke questioned, laughing a little.

You gulped, trying to make the reason more realistic. “Hayfever season...”

Luke hummed, shaking his head as he helped you up. “You want another drink?”

You shook your head, wanting to get far away from him as possible. Luke frowned a little, watching you leave his aroma. He wasn't stupid, and neither were you. In fact, he was just slower. He found himself lurking around the room for Alex, as he knew that Alex has the answers to everything.

“Yo, Al. Can I ask you something?”

Alex groaned, excusing himself from the cute quarterback he was talking too. “This better be worth it.”

“I think Y/N saw me kissing Tayla...”

Alex titled his head back, hissing at himself as to why he thought it would be something important. “And?”

“I think she is upset and I don’t like it when she is upset with me.”

Alex wasn’t drunk, but he felt like he needed to be. He was tired of being the messenger of the two of you. He loved you guys but, it was suffocating hearing it again and again.“Can I be real with you? Like, I’m going to tell you the truth and, it is up to you if you want to take the statement and do something.”

Luke wasn’t sure if he was ready. Alex seemed serious and Luke hated serious. “O-Okay..”

“First. I don’t blame her for being upset. You don’t just kiss her on NYE, take her on a date and show up to her house uninvited whenever you have a hissy fit with your parents. - it’s like you are using her, Luke. That’s not even the worst thing - it’s the way she normalised it. She is so infatuated by you that she doesn’t even care if you string her along, and that’s not healthy for her.”

Luke didn’t say anything he just gripped his cup to allow Alex to know that he was listening.

“It’s not fair for her to wait around for you because you are taking away her confidence and freedom to mingle with others. The number of people who asked her to dance, have a drink and even talk is shocking but she turned them down because she is so in love with you. You know she is and you still choose to not address her feelings and be an adult.”

“I didn’t know she loved me... she never told me.” Luke barked but Alex just chortles at Luke’s stupidity.

“She shouldn’t have to tell you. It’s pretty clear that she does.”

Luke allowed Alex to pour into him some more, a stream of tears trickled down his skin as he was now remembering all the times you were there for him, cared for him to only kiss and flirt with other girls. He was taking you for granted and, he hated himself for that. What was worst than all of this was finding out from his best friend.

He thanked Alex with a hug before running to find you. He wasn’t exactly sure where to find you but, he did have faith that you would be somewhere only the both of you would know. As Luke tried to avoided Tayla, which was impossible as she was the clingy type. He quickly divert her attention and dipped, running up the stairs.

He knew Julie’s house quite well, too well for Ray’s liking but Luke assured him that Julie and Luke were friends. On the other hand, the other reason why he knew this house well was due to your little rendezvous whenever the other’s fell asleep or arguing.

He knew where you were, and that only made him realise that maybe he had some feelings too. You were standing on the balcony, with a blanket wrapped around your figure whilst you looked up at the night sky.

He slowly walked towards you, hands getting clammy as he was a few steps behind you. He took a deep breath and waited for you to acknowledge him.

“Hey... I knew you would be here.” Luke whispered, bumping your shoulder.

You didn’t say anything but you didn't refuse his company.

“I just wanted to ask you something....”

You faked a smile, dreading the question about you catching his gaze when he was kissing Tayla.

“Do you love me?”

Your eyes widened as you heard those words. You certainly wasn’t expecting that. You closed your eyes shut, panic was rummaging around your body and your mind was hoping this was just some dream and that you would wake up in any given moment.

“Y/N....” Luke whispered.

“I do. But, it doesn’t matter.”

Luke frowned, hating himself for making you feel this way. “It does matter.”

“It’s honestly fine, Lu. I don’t mind if you don’t feel the same. You can go back to kissing Tayla.”

Luke shook his head. He didn’t want to kiss Tayla, he wanted to fix this. “I don’t want to kiss Tayla. I don’t want to keep kissing strangers and pretending they are you. Fuck, I don’t even know what I was thinking. I just, know that I’ve been a jerk and haven’t treated you fairly.”

You were stunned by his confession, you weren’t sure if Luke was drunk or not. You didn’t want to get your hopes up but you couldn’t deny the small smile that rang across your lips. “I don’t understand, Lu. You can’t just say that. You can’t just confess these feelings to me.”

“I know and I’m sorry. It took me so long to realise that maybe I should be kissing you and not her.”

You frowned, still trying to process the confession. “Did Alex say something? Whatever he said, he was lying...”

“Stop that. Stop trying to find an excuse for me. Don’t make me the good guy. Stop trying to tell yourself that this is normal, okay? You don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve it.”

“What can I say Luke? I’m not going to be that girl who tells you who you can’t or can kiss. I’m not going to stop you from flirting with other girls. It’s okay to not feel the same or want this. I’ll get over it.”

“What if I don’t want you to get over me? What if I want to flirt with you and maybe kiss you?”

“You aren’t makin-” He cut you off with a kiss. It started off small, just an ordinary kiss but, when his hand found your neck, slowly caressing, the kiss was something you only dreamed about having. You closed your eyes and placed your hands over around his neck, pushing yourself closer to him. You allowed him to take charge, as you both knew you weren’t that experienced. As he parted his lips, he met your gaze and kissed your nose.

“Does that answer your question?”, he smirked as he rubbed his thumb across your lower lip. You nodded, as you grinned stupidly at the kiss. He could tell you were shy and allowed you to bury your head in his neck.

“I don’t know what this means but I want to work it out together... only if you want too?”

You looked up at him, brushing the curls out of his face before agreeing with him. “Together.”

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#luke patterson x reader #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson imagines #julie and the phantoms imagine #julie and the phantoms imagines #luke patterson #luke patterson fluff #luke patterson angst #jatp imagine #jatp imagines #jatp luke #jatp alex #charlie gillespie x reader

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bibbykins · 4 years

Text

Penumbric Commitments (M)

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day!! I wrote this up real quick yesterday, so please forgive any lacking in quality, but I had the idea and absolutely sprinted with it! I hope you all enjoy and look forward to the next full length fic I post, which I gave a not so little hint in here to!

Warnings: 18+, unhealthy relationship, manipulation, yelling, rough sex, light bondage, the usage of a belt as wrist restraints (consensual), brief fingering, male cumming inside, talking about not wanting a child, daddy kink, threatening to leave, offering to kill someone, semi-graphic talks of killing someone

Word count: 3.8k

Genre: Soft Yandere, Mafia! Au

Summary: Hindsight says Namjoon so easily complying with not having children was too easy considering his position in the business and the nightmare his parents had readily become. What you didn't realize was how far Namjoon was willing to prove to you he meant what he said that day: all you both ever need is each other.

Note: this is a canon drabble apart of the Silhouetted Bonds fic linked here

It's times like these that you regret getting a traditional clock. The ticking was incessant and daunting. It felt like it was getting closer and closer to your ear with the deafening silence it was slicing through. Analogs had to be the way to go, or better yet, none at all. The last thing you needed right now was a reminder of how much time has been spent at this table. Namjoon had sprinted home the moment his mother called him after your meeting with her.

----

"Mrs. Kim, always a pleasure." You shook the older woman's hand with a tight smile.

She returned yours with an equally fake smile, "Please, you know you can call me mother." She chided, but nevertheless you stayed silent as you sat back down at the table in your home. It used to be mom.

It was 8 a.m. your mother in law wanted to meet, so to be petty, you stated 9 a.m. would be great. It's a shame that your relationship with her came to this, but truthfully, it was far from your fault.

While in the beginning she had been like a mother to you, things quickly took a steep downturn the moment Namjoon reintroduced you into his life. The woman who had once been lively, rebellious, and took charge became a demure, stoic, and merely content wife. She had given you talks about your duty as the wife of the boss and the expectations she expected you to fulfill nowadays as opposed to telling stories of her youth and teaching you how to bake eccentric treats. She had even admonished you for leaving Namjoon, an idea she gave you really. Since then, she had always stated your allegiance to the business and your own husband had yet to be proven in her eyes. The notion struck you to only provide her with business professional talks.

You had always known her and Namjoon's father had been a marriage of convenience, but there seemed to be intense love between them, at least at one point. You're not sure when that collapsed in your absence, and sure you felt bad,but you did not care for her patronizing tones. If Namjoon wouldn't retaliate, she almost definitely would've had you killed the moment you decided to leave her precious son.

"Now, I understand you're a busy woman, so I'll be chaste." She spoke as she took her seat, giving you a pointed look, "Do you feel as though you've made up for your betrayal?" This was obviously a trick question in her eyes, the simple answer being no.

However, you couldn't care less, "I have never betrayed anyone close to me, including Namjoon, if that's what you mean." You met her eyes with valor, "I don't see why you feel the need to ask such a silly question each time I see you."

She laughed humorlessly, "Maybe I'm hoping for the right answer to cross your stubborn mind." Truly, if Namjoon didn't love and cherish his parents so much you would've told her to fuck off and mind her business, maybe focus on her own shitty marriage, by now. Alas, Namjoon was a people pleaser and fiercely intent on being a filial son.

"You mean your answer to the question about how I feel?" You raised a brow, "Even when apart from Namjoon, I took no other man. I've never even lied to Namjoon, I've been nothing but an honest and hardworking wife after forgiving his own shortcoming in honesty." You watch her fist clench in her lap at the suggestion of her precious boy having a shortcoming of any sort, "A shortcoming well remedied, seeing as I'm still here." You chided lightly in spite of the heavy tension. You pitied your staff in this moment for having to watch this battle of wills.

"Sometimes husbands lie to… protect, their wives." She struggled to find the right words as she regurgitated what Namjoon's father undoubtedly told her one too many times. Misery loves company, and goodness, did she want you to be as miserable as her.

You returned her fake smile two fold before speaking, "That's lovely, but I don't need protecting from my husband, I need trust, honesty, respect." The final word made her back straighten, "I'd like to live in reality with him, not be shielded from it, but I respect what you wish for your own marriage, but this is what I like for mine."

She hummed in faux thought, "Very well, I can leave you to reflect on what marriage should be, you're still so young." You fought the urge to roll your eyes, "However, you're not that young…" This was a new addition, "When will I be receiving a grandchild?"

Your brows furrowed. Namjoon told you she took the news of no grandchildren quite well. He told you that she was informed of your no children rule mere days after you spoke the words. The radio silence on the topic of children each time you met with either of his parents confirmed much for you, and you had even found yourself quite proud of him for standing his ground with you. Surely, his parents are not nearly old enough to be so forgetful.

This was the first question in a while that made you falter, and you could see the satisfaction she gained from it, "Grandchildren? I'm unsure what you-"

"Namjoon told me the last time I visited him in prison, you wanted to wait for your fifth wedding anniversary before trying for children, isn't that coming up quite soon?" She raised a brow and you felt your heart shatter.

He lied to you. Again. He lied to you mere moments after you were ready to forgive him for lying to you the first time.

You let out a bitter laugh, "He did now?" She nodded and you shut your eyes for a moment, "It seems I've been made a fool of again." You sighed before looking as confusion crossed your mother-in-law's features, "I told Namjoon the very last time I visited him in prison that I did not want kids, ever."

"You know that's not possible for him, he's a successor." She laughed at your boldness.

"You know that he is an adult man with 6 brothers, biological or not, who will all marry one day, surely one of them will adopt or have a child." She scoffed at this, "I got my tubes tied years ago." This wiped the smile off her face.

"Does Namjoon know about this?" She snapped and you nodded with a bitter smile.

"He accompanied me to the appointment for moral support." You shot back.

"Well, your tubes can be untied and-"

"No." You deadpanned.

"No?" She mimicked in disbelief.

"If Namjoon requires a child, he will also require a new wife." Your voice was cold and you watched shock settle into the woman across from you, "With his habit of lying coming to light, he may have to find a new wife regardless."

She stood, "Don't be-"

"Please, do not waste your breath on orders I will not be following." You held your hand up to silence her.

"I'll call Namjoon, he can talk this out with you, so you can see things our way." She tried to sound reassuring as one of your staff rushed to see her out respectfully when you did not budge from your seat.

You stayed seated at the mahogany table, staring at your wedding ring. You didn't want to get a divorce. You loved Namjoon, more than anything, and yet, did he love you more than anything?

----

You're not sure how long you stayed there, questioning everything, but it was enough time for Namjoon to come home. He ripped the door open, eyes searching frantically, ready to make sure you had not already left him before his eyes landed on your figure. From there, he took his seat across from you at the table and waited until he could no longer take the silence.

"Are you going to say anything?" Your husband's voice was calm, although fear was evident in his timbre.

You sucked your teeth and shrugged, continuing to look at your freshly manicured nails, "What's there to say?" Your voice was short, as if you were already tired of the conversation before it could even start, "You lied to me."

Your husband dropped his head into his hands and sighed, "Junebug, I'm sorry, I-"

"You embarrassed me, again." You look at him for the first time all night with a sharp glare, "Are you trying to find an excuse to divorce or do you just not care about me?"

"Neither!" His head shot up and he met your eyes with deep regret when he realized you were looking at him with the anger and hurt he found you with all this years ago, "I love you, more than anything-"

"Obviously not!" You snapped, "Do you have any idea how it feels to explain to your shitty and judgy mother in law that, in spite of what her precious son said, you had no plans to have children, that you got your fucking tubes tied?!" Namjoon sighed, either in shame or pain, "Were you just hoping that would come around? That I'm such a fickle woman that I don't mean what I say?"

His brows furrowed, "No, if I thought that, why did I let you get your tubes tied?!"

"Let me?" Your voice was mockingly soft, "You let me, huh?" You cocked your head slightly and he closed his eyes in frustration, "How fucking charitable of you, my sweet husband, master of the fucking house, to let your dumb little wife make a choice for her body!" You stood, "How considerate of you to play supportive husband only to fold the moment your mother asks you a question-"

"You know what my duty as the only son is!" It was his turn to raise his voice, but he immediately regretted it as he saw your eye twitch.

"And you knew my stance on kids before you got out of prison." You seethed, "You know why I don't want a fucking kid, nor do I plan to fold on my stance, because I'm all I've got left there." Namjoon's mouth parted slightly before he pressed his lips together.

"It's not my fault you don't want a kid because you'd be a bad mother just like your own." The words left his mouth before he could even begin to consider the repercussions. He was about to open his mouth again to back track wildly, but it was far too late as you took a step back, the weight of his words being too much to take from across the table.

He watched hurt consume your irises for only the second time in his life, the first time being mere hours before you left him for years, before you made him promise to never betray you like that again as a condition for you to come back to him. A condition that he evident did not adhere to in your eyes. "Do you want to know what made my mother such a bad mother?" He watched as the embers of rage within your eyes were only stoked by his reflection in your pupils, although he could see a thin layer of moisture begin to build up, pain, "You know, like I would be?" Your words were almost mocking as he stayed eerily still, "An unsupportive, isolating, and shitty sorry excuse for a fucking husband." Your word hit him like a truck.

Unsupportive. Isolating. Sorry excuse for a husband.

You weren't wrong right now. He felt shitty. He knew he should've just stood his ground. His parents didn't matter if it meant losing you, "I didn't mean that, what I said about-"

"You're right." A tear fell and he felt his heart shatter, "So if you want a kid, it'll have to be with someone else."

"I don't want anyone else, I never have!" He made his way to you as you weakly stepped back, "You're all I need." His voice was soft as he went to grab your hand, but you pulled away.

"You said that last time." Your tears were beyond your control as you wiped at them in vain, "You said that mere days before you told your mom that we were going to have kids and you told me your mom took the news well." You sniffled, "You lied to me, I can't believe that you lied to me and let me just walk around like a fool believing you, again!"

He was stunned silent again. You were right. He had lost his back bone under the strict gaze of his parents and folded under pressure. He betrayed you, and all he could do was hope for your forgiveness.

You shook your head as he remained mute, "I need some time." You went to walk past him and to the door but he engulfed you in a hug, "Namjoon!" You struggled weakly to pull him from you but froze when you heard a sniffle.

"Please, don't go." He begged as he held you close, "I can't lose you again, I'm so sorry, please."

You fought sobs from escaping your mouth, "You lied to me, and your mom-"

"I'll kill her if you want me to." He spoke and your blood ran cold at his tone. He was serious, "My mom and my dad, I'll tell them we're not having children and if they can't handle that, they can leave us alone or die."

Your eyes were wide, tears frozen in time. Namjoon loved his parents. He was always a kid intent on surpassing their expectations, and he had made that clear to you when you started dating in highschool. You were his only sign of rebellion. He was intended to marry a woman from an affluent family, but he met you. You had figured that would be where his rebellion ended, but here he was, handing his parent's hearts in your hands and awaiting orders.

"Joonie, y-you can't mean-" You sputtered to reason but he only held you tighter.

"Or even if you just want me to kill them, I will, with my own hands of course, nobody else can know." His remained headstrong in his resolve, stroking your hair, "I don't care what I have to do to keep you with me." He kissed the top of your head, "You are the only person, the only thing on this Earth that matters to me I cannot live without you."

A sick, and extremely twisted part of you wanted to call your mother-in-law and say, "Hah!" You wanted to rub it in her face that her son, in spite of everything, chose you. Her precious boy has been yours for years now. However, your sanity slipped through the cracks as you shook your head again.

"You love your parents." You shook your head as you cried into his chest, "And if you felt that way, why would you lie to me?"

He sniffled, "I was weakened, not 100% sure you would truly accept me with open arms and I panicked when they asked." He sighed, "I know it's pathetic and I know I seemed like I knew we would make it, but I didn't know that. They never brought it up after that so I naively thought they would forget and when they asked me again, I would tell them the truth and-"

"You're so stupid." You cried harder into his chest and felt him nod, "If you're scared to face your parents, tell me, and we'll do it together." You were surely ruining his dress shirt, but he stroked your hair soothingly, "Your mom has been calling me a shitty wife for years and after today, she must truly believe it, and I-I should take some time-" Namjoon held you, arms sliding down your body as he got down to his needs and you felt your heart drop, and you gasped, "Stop, don't-"

You tried to help him up but he grabbed your wrists as he looked up at you with tear stained cheeks and eyes as wet as yours, shaking his head at your frantic protests as he kissed your hands and your wedding ring tenderly, "I can't lose you again." His voice was weighty with sorrow at the thought of you being away from him, "You matter more to me than my duty as a successor does, than my parents do, even more than this whole fucking business." He rubbed his cheek against your hand in desperation as you stood frozen from the shock of Namjoon begging on his knees with the utmost humility. The most powerful man in the city, undoubtedly the country as well, was on his knees crying and begging you to stay, "If killing my parents is what I have to do to prove it, I will. Name how you want it done, when you want it done, and I'll do it." He was dead serious and he could tell you knew it as tears spilled onto your cheeks even more, "You're a better wife than I deserve, and all I can ever hope is to be even a fraction of the husband you deserve, and I'm sorry I've been missing the mark." This made your face twist in pain, regret. Namjoon, up until today, had been nothing short of perfect, and even now he was making up for it, "Almost losing you nearly killed me, and-and I get that sometimes people need time to calm down but I would just prefer you beat the shit out of me instead-"

"I didn't mean that either!" You cried out as you sunk down to your knees to hug the sobbing man before you, "You aren't a sorry excuse for a husband, you're just a goddamn idiot, and I didn't want time I just didn'twant to see your stupid face because I was so angry." You laughed as he did for a moment, "Above all else, you're an amazing husband. I love you, always have, I just hate when you lie-" Your voice in his ear was like heaven as he felt a weight lift of his shoulders.

He grabbed your legs to wrap around his waist before you could properly settle onto your knees. He held you close and he soothed your cries, "I haven't lied to you since, I can promise you that." He sighed and you scoffed, "You don't have to believe me. I'm just asking you to stay with me so I can prove it over time."

"I'm...I'm not leaving you." You sighed into his neck before he pulled you back to trap your lips between his as he kissed your with a vigorous passion. When you returned his kiss with an equal amount of desperation, he began to stand with you in his arms before promptly laying you on the couch, never detaching his mouth from yours the whole time.

You settled into the velvet cushions as he ground himself into your sex, making you gasp, "I love you, my darling." He murmured into your mouth while one of his hands slid your dress up and your panties to the side before brushing his fingers across your pussy and groaning at your wetness, "Oh fuck, you're so wet, baby." His mouth went to your ear as you moaned, threading your fingers into his hair, "Was it me promising to kill for you or me getting onto my knees that did it, hm?" He rubbed slow circles over your clit and you gasped, "You get off on me spilling blood for you? You get wet by me demeaning myself to keep you right here, where you belong?"

"Yes, daddy, I do- fuck!" You clutched his hair harder as his finger slipped in and your hips wiggled impatienly, "Just fuck me, I don't care about being stretched, fuck me."

Too desperate to even hesitate, Namjoon undid his belt, ripping it from his trousers as he secured your wrists within the leather garment, as he had done many times before. He undid your belt as he pushed your arms up and his pants down with his boxers. He slid into you with a deep groan that you matched with a wanton moan. He fucked himself into you feverishly, wasting no time in chasing your high as his nimble finger went down to stimulate your clit, "I love you so fucking much, y/n." He groaned as he felt you tighten, "I don't care who I have to kill to prove it, I'll even let you watch the light drain from their fucking eyes if it means you'll stay with me."

You moaned out as he whispered gruesome threats to the outside world intermingling with sweet nothings as he held the belt around your wrists,using it as leverage to fuck you harder. If you were sane, you would not be getting closer and closer to orgasm as he cursed the rest of the world into painful deaths just to have you as his wife, but here you were, clenching around him and opening your legs further so he can go deeper, "Shit, I'm gonna cum!" You cried out, arms going over Namjoon's head so you could pull him down to you by the neck and kiss his lips messily.

His hand went from your clit as he wrapped his arm around you to hoist you up and slam himself into you further, "That's right baby, cum for daddy and I'll give you my cum." He cooed in spite of the strain to keep himself from busting you before you get your release. His words only threw you over the edge as you climaxed, hurdling him into his own. He fucked his cum into you like always and you moaned lightly until he was done.

He held himself inside of you as you both gained your breath again, exchanging occasional kisses, "You don't have to kill them, you know." You spoke finally "Although, I won't be so cordial with their bullshit anymore."

He nodded, "I'm by your side, Junebug, forever and always." You smiled before kissing him.

"And I, you." You hummed blissfully.

"We have everything we need between just the two of us, I promise." He smiled against your kiss while you nodded, "You'll be the only one calling me daddy for the rest of out lives- hey!" You smack his chest lightly as you both laughed blissfully, letting the seriously twisted shit that just transpired be a simple part of the past.

"Your mom is a bitch." You giggled tiredly as he chuckled.

"Don't worry about being nice to her if you don't want to, I have my priorities straight." He gave you another kiss that you returned with glee.

As he was cleaning you up, your hazy mind allowed you to feel smug at the fact that you just saved your shitty in-laws from certain death. You were their ticket to life. You were their precious successor's priority. You were his only true love.

Namjoon watched with nothing but love as he tucked your sleeping form into bed. Thinking on it now, he doesn't know if he could even stand the idea of you loving a child as much as you loved him. He enjoyed his monopoly over your affection, and a child would only throw a wrench in that for him. Taehyung liked kids, Jungkook seemed like a family man, maybe even Hoseok if that new girl he's saying is as serious for him as he says. All it took was one kid to carry on the business, so you didn't need to worry your pretty little head about it.

All you had to worry about was staying by his side and all he had to worry about was being a good enough husband to keep you there. He kissed your forehead as he held you closer to him, texting his mom the next time she disrespects you or his marriage, there would be consequences.

You were the only person he needed. He would do anything to make you understand that.

The ticking of the clock was nowhere to be heard as you laid in Namjoon's arms. You snuggled into him as you caught sight of the thinly veiled threat he sent to his own mother on account of your feelings. He was yours just as much yours were his and the victory of it all had never tasted so sweet. His heartbeat was all you could hear, steady, loving, and to the beat of the drum you commanded.

You both wouldn't have it any other way.

Masterlist

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#yandere au #yandere bts au #yandere namjoon #yandere bts #spft yandere bts #soft yandere namjoon #bts mafia au #namjoon smut #kim namjoon #namjoon scenario #namjoon imagine #namjoon drabble #bts smut #yandere bts smut #namjoon mafia au

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deniigi · 3 years

Text

Please take this section from a piece about Baby Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon bonding post Bandomeer.

I’m sure that this isn’t how their master-apprentice relationship was formed but I refuse to read so this is it for me 🙃🙂

Title: platelets

Summary: After the smoke clears on Bandomeer, the Agricorps gathers 12yo Obi-Wan into their ranks and prepares to train him to become one of their own. Qui-Gon thinks they should wait a damn minute here. He’s had a change of heart.

---

Obi-Wan was no longer in the med bay. It took Qui-Gon two hours to find him and two years off his life trying to look casual under the irritated gaze of so many suspicious Agricorps members.

The foreman (forewoman) was the first to crack under Qui-Gon’s very charming smile—and she didn’t so much as crack as tell him that his attempts to be subtle disgusted her to the core.

Obi-Wan had been given over to a young lab manager. A friendly man in need of his first supervisee. He was soft at heart and, according to the foreman, very good with kids.

Qui-Gon understood implicitly and rapidly that this was his new competitor.

He asked the foreman what the knights had done to incur the corps’ ire and she told him to search his fucking feelings.

She closed the door behind him, effectively locking him into one of the Agricorps terrarium-lab bubbles.

Qui didn’t like to snoop. He loved to snoop.

Nothing was more satisfying then having a poke through the lines upon lines of glasses and test pockets that covered the tables. He had a sniff around the experimental cuttings taking root in their glasses and then took cover when he heard a voice break out into a laugh.

He peered over the edge of the counter and spotted the familiar green smock-tunic of the corps. Its owner had tan skin and narrow eyes and his back stooped into an arc. Qui-Gon craned his neck and found that the arc came over the tuft-y red hair of his future apprentice (because there was no real question here, regardless of the corps’ agitation; the knights would always get first choice over the initiates).

The lab manager, however, gave no sign of trepidation. He held in front of Obi-Wan a handful of seeds that sprouted and curled under his smile. Obi-Wan watched them with wide eyes. The manager turned his gentle face down towards Obi-Wan and nudged his hands until Obi-Wan was holding the mass as it grew.

“Look, you’re a natural,” the man said.

Obi-Wan sucked in a lip and focused hard. One of the plants’ first adult leaves began to unfurl.

“Well done. Fantastic,” the manager said. “Look at you already. Great job and for that, a reward.”

“A reward?” Obi-Wan asked, handing the tangle of roots off as the manager held out his hands for them.

“A reward,” the manager agreed, plucking one of the fat stems from the bunch and holding it out to Obi-Wan, “A snack.”

Damn. This guy was good.

The foreman was smug as a dungbeetle in shit when Qui-Gon skulked out of the lab. She asked him how his proposal had gone. He scowled at her and made off back to his quarters.

Normally, he would call someone to lament the traitorous actions of these supposed-allies, but no one was going to be sympathetic right now—not even Tahl. She was going to say what everyone else was going to say which was “Man, you had how many chances to get this right?”

He smashed his face into the pillow of his bunk, then flung it off and flattened his cheek against the mattress.

There had to be some way to turn these tides back in his favor. He wasn’t losing to the Agricorps. Master Dooku would have a heart attack. Qui’s failure in this—more than Xanatos—would kill him and then he’d have to live with that guilt for the rest of his life.

UGH.

Alright, Jinn. Think.

He had a brilliant plan. It involved a lightsaber. Obi-Wan loved lightsabers. Qui-Gon had witnessed him loving them many a time.

He scrounged up some tools and squeaked past the Agricorps security for a quick bounce off to acquire a crystal. A blue one. Obi-Wan looked like a blue saber sort of kid. It took a while to find one because everyone, everywhere, was conspiring against Qui-Gon on this. Even the Force seemed to be telling him that he was too late.

But for once, he didn’t care. There were only so many times you could fuck up before you started fucking up at least in the right direction.

He got the crystal. He brought it back to the corps headquarters and went on the hunt yet again for his (his damnit) future apprentice.

This time, Obi-Wan was in the dormitories. Qui-Gon almost gasped in horror to find him outfitted in an over-large green smock-tunic. He flapped the too-long sleeves with a goofy smile while his lab manager reached around him and tightened the belt at his waist as far as it would go.

“You’re so scrawny,” the lab manager told him. “We’ll fix that.”

Obi-Wan beamed up at him and held up his sleeve-covered hands.

“I like green,” he said.

A small piece of Qui-Gon screamed internally.

“I think you’re more of a blue, actually,” the lab manager said. “But this is what we’ve got for now. When you get bigger, we can see if there’s a blue that fits you.”

“There are so many colors,” Obi-Wan said as the manager trapped his arm and started rolling up one of the sleeves. He tried to do the same with the other on his own, which just made the manager’s job harder.

“There are,” the manager said.

“Do you get to pick?”

“You sure do.”

“How do you pick?”

The manager patted Obi-Wan’s head and turned around to hunt down something else from the spare clothing supply.

“It comes to you,” he said, muffled.

There was a long silence. Qui-Gon had just decided to step out of hiding, when Obi-Wan, looking at the rolled edges of his sleeves said,

“I think I want to leave.”

Qui-Gon’s heart stopped. The manager’s rummaging did, too. He pulled himself carefully out of the cupboard.

“Leave?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Obi-Wan said to his sleeves. “I think I want to leave.”

No.

“You’re a little young to leave, aren’t you?” the manager said awkwardly.

“Maybe,” Obi-Wan said. “But I’ll figure it out. If I can survive those people in the mines, then I can figure it out, can’t I? And then I can pick my colors out there. You get to pick, right? Maybe I’ll do blue after all.”

Fuck. No. Qui-Gon was gonna—

“Hey, why don’t we do this?” the manager said, setting aside a set of gaiters to kneel down in front of Obi-Wan. “Let’s give us a trial run, huh? Two months, max. I know we didn’t make the best first impression, but give us two months—eight weeks—and after that, if you don’t like it, we’ll make sure you’ve got somewhere to go when you’re ready to leave. Does that sound okay?”

Qui-Gon held his breath. Obi-Wan studied the knuckles of the hands holding his. He rubbed his split lips together.

“Eight weeks?” he asked.

“That’s all, no more and if you really, really can’t stand it, then even less,” the manager said.

“And you’ll help me? Even if I say I don’t want to stay?”

“Even if you don’t want to stay.”

Maybe Qui was operating on another, less child-friendly level here, but why in kark’s name you’d even give the boy the illusion of choice was beyond him. The answer was, truly, that the second Obi-Wan set foot away from the jedi, he’d be signing his own death sentence.

Xanatos wouldn’t care if he wasn’t Qui-Gon’s true apprentice. He wouldn’t ask those kinds of questions. He’d just seize the opportunity the moment Obi-Wan no longer had someone standing behind him, and when he was through, he’d bring the body to the Temple and lay it out cold and open-eyed on the front steps.

There were no other options for the child now. Qui-Gon was being kind with this process of trust-building. In reality, if he really needed to, he could contact Yoda and acquiesce to his previous wisdom and arguments for Qui-Gon to take the kid on. Yoda would then change the boy’s assignment and orders; he would return to the temple and thereafter again go through the selection process. But this time, Qui-Gon would select him without hesitation.

That wasn’t how Qui-Gon wanted to do this, but if the boy thought that he was going to leave, to step out into the cold of space, then to spare him a cruel, meaningless death, Qui-Gon would.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said quietly to the manager.

“Anytime, hon,” the manager said. “Who knows, anyways. You might even like it here.”

The trouble with the damn Agricorps was that they were phenomenal talkers. They talked to people about their problems and all these insecurities and they gave them food and drinks and told jokes and laughed and hefted their littlest supervisees up onto their shoulders and all that served to make their members loyal to each other to a fault.

In short, Obi-Wan’s lab manager was winning this battle more every day.

This was not helped at all by the fact that Qui-Gon had discovered through a surprise meeting that Obi-Wan was afraid of him.

They’d bumped into each other in the hallway as Obi-Wan came from the mess hall and Qui-Gon went to drop off some documents, and the kid scrambled away from him and flattened himself against the corridor’s wall.

Some serious meditation (and agitating Mace, great tower of sleep-deprived wisdom) had brought Qui-Gon to the conclusion that yeah, a month in forced labor, being banished to a mine, food deprivation, physical assault, and so on really did a number on a twelve-year-old’s trust in people and their associates.

Further, Mace pointed out that Qui-Gon was approximately ‘half a mile tall and covered in overgrowth.’

He did not appear to be a soothing presence to children. Mace said that if he’d deigned to join him and the other masters in chatting and cuddling the younglings in the crèche, this wouldn’t have been a problem, but alas, Qui, you stuck-up nerfherder. You reap what you sow.

Mace’s hind and foresight was, as per usual, invaluable.

Qui-Gon decided that he was going to be the nice version of himself. He was going to smile at Obi-Wan. That would do it.

It didn’t do it.

The foreman came to Qui-Gon’s quarters to gleefully tell him not to approach the corps’ young supervisees unprompted. He was giving the children hives.

He explained to her outright that he intended to take Obi-Wan on as his apprentice.

She told him good luck. Obi-Wan, she claimed, was already settling in with the others. He was making friends. And Qui-Gon wasn’t so cruel as to separate such a traumatized boy from such comfort, now was he?

But there, she was mistaken.

He definitely was that cruel.

The foreman told him to die miserable and slammed his door.

It took another two tries, but eventually, he managed to find Obi-Wan tucked away on one of his breaks from his training in the lab. He appeared to be at a loss for what to do with himself. He’d settled against a window and had splayed both hands on it as he stared out into the cracked soil of Bandomeer.

Qui-Gon watched him for a little while and then cleared his throat.

Obi-Wan jumped. His eyes came up for the briefest second and then his head went down.

“Master,” he greeted.

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon replied. “You seem bored.”

Guilt colored the boy’s cheeks in a flush.

“I’m not bored, Master,” he said, fidgeting with his rolled sleeves.

“May I sit?” Qui-Gon asked, gesturing next to where Obi-Wan knelt. He nodded and arranged himself in a more dignified posture. Qui-Gon let him; he sat down next to him, grumbling and creaking and popping.

His bones weren’t what they used to be.

Once he was finally more or less comfortable, he turned to notice Obi-Wan staring at him with eyes like a cat’s.

“What? You never seen an old man sit?” he asked.

“What happened to your hair?” Obi-Wan asked.

Oh.

“It’s in a bun,” Qui-Gon explained, reaching up to release the mane. It tumbled down over his shoulders and cheered for fresh air.

Obi-Wan’s gaze became even more cat-like. Qui-Gon fought off a smirk.

“You want to touch it?” he asked.

The kid looked away abruptly.

“It’s okay. You can touch it,” Qui told him. “It looks better than it feels, I must say. Needs a trim—look at these ends, little one. I ought to be arrested for crimes against decency.”

Aha. Gotcha. Look at that wobble in those lips. Trying not to smile. They’d see how long that worked, now wouldn’t they?

He badgered Obi-Wan until he finally broke and reached up to brush his fingers against the hair Qui-Gon put within his reach. His attention snapped into place.

“It’s soft,” he said, amazed.

His fingers started combing without permission. Qui-Gon let it happen.

“Very useful for cold climates—have you ever felt a snow-yak, Obi-Wan?” he asked.

The boy shook his head. Of course, he hadn’t.

“Do you know what they look like?”

Another shake.

“Well, perhaps one day, you will see them,” Qui-Gon said indulgently. “When I was a boy, my master told me not to try to pet them—he told me at every step of the way, he knew me well. But you know what I did?”

There was that smile now.

“You pet them?” Obi-Wan asked.

“I sure did,” Qui-Gon told him. “And you know that they did?”

“Kicked you?”

“Me? No. I was too small a target. They charged my master—Master Dooku; you may have heard of him.”

Obi-Wan shoved his giggles into his palms.

“I want to pet one,” he said.

“Yes, you do look like the type,” Qui-Gon said. “Tell me, Obi-Wan, what are your feelings on pathetic lifeforms?”

“What’s that?”

“You tell me. What’s a pathetic lifeform to you?”

Obi-Wan settled in and thought about it as he gazed out the window’s thick glass.

“Me,” he decided.

Bless him.

“You?” Qui-Gon said incredulously. “No, no. You saved a jedi master. I said ‘pathetic.’”

“Me,” Obi-Wan insisted again.

Qui-Gon held a finger out between them.

“If you are a pathetic life form, then I am in grave danger,” he said.

The giggle this time wasn’t hidden. It make Qui-Gon’s own grin grow.

“I was thinking a lothcat,” he admitted. “Or a dragon—love a dragon. Of course, the yak—perhaps not pathetic to my master, but to others yes. They’re not smart, Obi-Wan, poor things.”

“You like animals,” Obi-Wan said.

Qui-Gon weighed this statement with his head.

“’Animals’ isn’t quite broad enough, but yes, they fall into the category,” he said. “I’m also a big fan of rescuing the plants that no one can keep alive.”

Obi-Wan brought up his knees and wrapped his arms around them. He settled a soft cheek onto the top of the right one.

“That’s what I’ll be doing here,” he said.

“Indeed,” Qui-Gon said.

There was a long pause. The boy sniffed softly.

“You will be happy here,” Qui-Gon told him gently. “They will take care of you.”

Another sniff. An eye scrubbed with a too-long sleeve.

“I’m sorry I’m not good enough,” Obi-Wan whispered.

Well, this was a conversation Qui-Gon hadn’t wanted to walk into. There were, from his vantage point, a few ways out of it, but at the end of each of those paths was a set of brown eyes framed by intense, wispy green brows.

“You are good enough,” Qui-Gon said. “I am just a foolish master. You deserve someone better than me, Obi-Wan.”

“There is no one else,” Obi-Wan said.

“There will be,” Qui-Gon said.

“No, there won’t. I’m out of time. All that’s left for me is...this,” Obi-Wan said, gesturing to the landscape beyond the window.

Qui-Gon studied it; the cracks in the soil, the piles of broken stones.

“It is a little bleak,” he admitted.

“What is it like for non-jedi people?” Obi-Wan asked. “Do they go to school? How do they find somewhere to sleep?”

“You will not be a non-jedi person,” Qui-Gon said.

There was a long pause.

“What?”

Qui-Gon sucked in a breath and let his shoulders fall.

“Unless you really want to be one,” he added. “Apologies, I spoke without thinking.”

Those blue eyes were the same color as the crystal in Qui-Gon’s pocket. He put his hand inside of it and pulled the carefully wrapped parcel out so that Obi-Wan could see it. He rolled it slowly until only the crystal sat in his palm.

“There is greatness in you, Obi-Wan,” he said. “And I am not a good enough Master, but you are more than a deserving padawan.”

The eyes flicked from the crystal to Qui-Gon’s face once, then twice.

“Do you mean it?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Are you okay with having a silly master?” Qui-Gon asked. “I will not sugar-coat it—one of my students has already fallen. I am the type of person who Master Windu has been dreaming of the unfortunate demise for since we were children.”

“Why?” Obi-Wan asked with eyes only for the crystal.

“Excellent question. I am told that my brain is fundamentally ill-suited for human interaction,” Qui-Gon said with a smile.

Obi-Wan huffed.

“Does Master Windu really dislike you so much?” he asked.

“He speaks to me in such ways only out of love. My other friends say that I am dedicated intensely to the flight of fancy.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Obi-Wan said.

“You know, funny thing,” Qui-Gon told him, reaching over to take his hand and press the crystal into it, “Neither do I.”

#Obi-Wan Kenobi #qui-gon jinn #I think Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon should be the kind of apprentice and master who deserve each other #and by that I mean that they both do shit that make the other's teeth grind but they bear it with a smile #fic #ficlet

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